Grace Darling by Eva Hope (people reading books .txt) 📕

the case of Grace Darling—"Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates." No true, and kindly person will begrudge her the praise she received, since she really earned it. She sowed the seeds, and it was only right that she should reap the fruit. And of all the praises that were heaped upon her none equalled the simple unvarnished story of her own deed. To describe her exploit, with no word of comment, was to load her with commendation of the highest kind. And it is well indeed when that can be said of any woman—which is always the case when her life is right. On the whole, even now people get pretty much what they deserve. For a little time an individual may be misunderstood and maligned; but in the long run it will be found that

"Ever the right comes uppermost,
And ever is justice done."

The world is not so unfair as it seems. It is not very quick to read people, but it gets to comprehend them at last, and no one who is really good has to confess that he gets no praise.

These seem to be the teachings of Grace Darling's life. If the women of these times will take them to their hearts, and profit by them, the noble lighthouse-girl will do a better and more enduring work now, than when she went out with her father to the wreck of the "Forfarshire."

CHAPTER XVIII. CONCLUSION.

"Where no shadow shall bewilder,
Where life's vain parade is o'er,
Where the sleep of sin is broken,
And the dreamer dreams no more;
Where no bond is ever sundered;
Partings, claspings, sob, and moan,
Midnight waking, twilight weeping,
Heavy noontide—all are done;
Where the child has found its mother,
Where the mother finds the child,
Where dear families are gathered
That were scattered on the wild,
Brother, we shall meet and rest,
'Mid the holy and the blest."—Bonar.

Very little remains to be told, either of Grace Darling or her family. The grief of the latter was of the most poignant kind, when their famous and beloved daughter had really left them. Death creates great desolation for those who are left behind; and the more excellent the deceased has been, the greater is the loss which is felt. But when this world has but been exchanged for a better, there are consolations for the mourners, who feel that the parting is for a little while only, and who look forward to a joyful re-union.

"A few more years shall roll,
A few more seasons come;
And we shall be with those that rest
Asleep within the tomb.

"Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that great day;
O wash me in thy precious blood,
And take my sins away.

"A few more suns shall set
O'er these dark hills of time;
And we shall be where suns are not,
A far serener clime.

"A few more storms shall beat
On this wild rocky shore;
And we shall be where tempests cease,
And surges swell no more.

"A few more struggles here,
A few more partings o'er,
A few more toils, a few more tears,
And we shall weep no more.

"A few more Sabbaths here
Shall cheer us on our way;
And we shall reach the endless rest,
The eternal Sabbath day."

In this case the absence was a short one, for in four years the mother and daughter were together again. Mrs. Darling died on October 18th, 1848, and at the time of her death was seventy-four years old. The money which had been collected for Grace had been invested, and at her death the interest was paid to her father and mother, which greatly added to their peace and comfort during their declining years. Mr. Darling, the father of the heroine, and companion of her perils, lived until the year 1865. He was fourteen years younger than his wife; and when he died, on the 28th May, he was seventy-nine years old. After the death of his wife he left the lighthouse, and went to reside at Bamborough with his daughter.

Some thrilling and interesting stories are told of his youthful years.

When he was a little child, his father kept the Staple Island lighthouse. It was built on the south, that being the highest part, and it shared the fate of many other lighthouses, being carried away by the sea. One day the grandfather of Grace, who was looking out, saw an immense wave coming toward that part of the island where the house stood, which he felt sure must overwhelm it. With great presence of mind he rushed to his home, and hastily dragged his wife and child to a safe place. A few moments afterward, the wave swept over the spot, and completely carried away the lighthouse, and the home in which the Darlings lived. Had this happened in the night, or had the wave come unperceived, they must all have perished. As it was, they were without shelter or food until they were seen from the shore, when relief was sent to them.

William Darling had another narrow escape when he was about fourteen years old. At that time his father kept the light on the Brownsman, and the lighthouse was eighty feet high. The lad once went to the top and fell, but, fortunately, was caught about half-way by a projecting piece of wood. His father, having missed him, went to look for him, and was startled to find him apparently dead. He was taken into the house, however, and means were used for his restoration, which, after a few hours, were successful.

"My times are in thy hand,
Whatever they may be;
Pleasing or painful, dark or bright,
As best may seem to thee."

"My times are in thy hand,
Why should I doubt or fear?
A father's hand will never cause
His child a needless tear."

William Darling afterwards became a strong, fine fellow; and at the age of eighteen, was six feet two inches high. In his latter years he was very greatly respected by his numerous friends around Bamborough, who admired him, not only for the gallant deed which he achieved with his daughter, but for the sterling qualities of his life and character. He was buried with his wife and daughter, and a younger son, who had been the first to die, in Bamborough Churchyard, and the following is a copy of the inscription on their tomb:—

IN MEMORY OF
THOMASIN DARLING,
WIFE OF WILLIAM DARLING OF THE FARNE ISLES,
WHO DIED OCTOBER 16, 1848,
AGED 74 YEARS,

ALSO OF
GRACE HORSELEY DARLING,
THEIR DAUGHTER,
WHO DIED OCTOBER 20, 1842,
AGED 26 YEARS,

ALSO OF
JOB HORSELEY DARLING,
THEIR SON,
WHO DIED DECEMBER 6, 1830,
AGED 20 YEARS,

THE ABOVE
WILLIAM DARLING,
LATE OF THE LONGSTONE LIGHT, AND THE BELOVED
HUSBAND OF THOMASIN DARLING,
WHO DIED AT BAMBOROUGH, MAY 28, 1866,
AGED 79 YEARS.

There are at present, we believe, three of the surviving members of the family—one Thomasin, who lives in Bamborough, and who, as her sister's nurse and attendant in her last illness, deserves the respect of all who feel interested in Grace; Robert, who resides at Alnwick, and George, at North Sunderland.

The following acrostic will be interesting, because it was printed in gold letters on a beautiful silk cover, which enclosed the Pictorial Bible which was presented by the ladies of Swinton to Grace Darling:—

"Great was thy deed, O fair, heroic maid!
Rich in the beauteous grace of Christian love,
A noble act thy generous soul displayed;
Compassion nerved thy arm its strength to prove.
Exalted female! Virtues grace thy name.

Daring, as thou hast done, the billows' rage;
A nation's praise attests thy well-earned fame,
Records thy valour on historic page;
Lovely and brave, Britannia's daughters show,
In active life, benevolence and zeal;
Nobly they seek to stem the tide of woe,
Giving kind aid life's numerous cares to heal."

There have since been two worthy memorials of Grace Darling and her heroic deed, erected—the one in Bamborough Churchyard, and the other in St. Cuthbert's Chapel, on the Farne Island. The former contains a recumbent figure of Grace; and the other, which was put up on the 9th September, 1844, bears this inscription—

TO THE MEMORY OF
GRACE HORSELEY DARLING,
A NATIVE OF BAMBOROUGH, AND AN INHABITANT OF THESE ISLANDS,
WHO DIED OCTOBER 20, 1842,
AGED 26 YEARS.

But the best memorial is in the hearts of the people, who love and revere her still. The name of Grace Darling will not be allowed to sink into oblivion. Mothers will utter it to their daughters, sisters to their sisters, and friends to their friends. No excursionist will take a seaside holiday in the north without wishing to see the Farne Islands for the sake of her who has done so much to make them famous. There will always be boats named after the heroine, and children, too, who know her name. And God grant that there may always be many imitators of her courage, unselfishness, and humanity, and that, though their deeds be of a humble kind, they may still be remembered for them.

"Needs there the praise of the love-written record,
The name and the epitaph graved on the stone!
The things we have lived for, let them be our story,
We ourselves but remembered by what we have done.

"Not myself, but the truth which in life I have spoken,
Not myself, but the seed that in life I have sown,
Shall pass on to ages—all about me forgotten,
Save the truth I have spoken, the things I have done.

"So let my living be, so be my dying;
So let my name lie, unblazoned, unknown;
Unpraised, and unmissed, I shall still be remembered—
Yes, but remembered by what I have done."—Dr. Bonar.

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