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GRACE DARLING

BY JAMES BALDWIN

T WAS a dark September morning. There was a storm at sea. A ship had been driven on a low rock off the shores of the Farne Islands. It had been broken in two by the waves, and half of it had been washed away. The other half lay yet on the rock and s those of the crew who were still alive were clinging to it. But the waves were dashing over it and in a little while it too would be carried to the bottom.

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Could anyone save the poor, half-drowned sailors? On one of the islands was a lighthouse; and there, 10 all through that stormy night, Grace Darling had listened to the storm. Grace was the daughter of the lighthouse keeper and she had lived by the sea as long as she could remember.

In the darkness of the night, above the noise of the 15 winds and waves, she heard screams and wild cries. When daylight came she could see the wreck, a mile away, with the angry waters all around it. She could see the men clinging to the masts.

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"We must try to save them!" she cried. “Let us

go out in the boat at once!"

"It is of no use, Grace," said her father. cannot reach them."

"We

5 He was an old man and he knew the force of the

mighty waves.

"We cannot stay here and see them die," said Grace. "We must at least try to save them."

Her father could not say, "No."

In a few minutes they were ready. They set off in the heavy lighthouse boat. Grace pulled one oar and her father the other and they made straight toward the wreck. But it was hard rowing against such a sea, and it seemed as though they would never reach Is the place.

At last they were close to the rock and now they were in greater danger than before. The fierce waves broke against the boat, and it would have been dashed in pieces had it not been for the strength and skill of 20 the brave girl.

But after many trials Grace's father climbed upon the wreck, while Grace herself held the boat. Then one by one the worn-out crew were helped on board. It was all that the girl could do to keep the frail boat 25 from being drifted away, or broken upon the sharp edges of the rock.

Then her father clambered back into his place. Strong hands grasped the oars and by and by all were

safe in the lighthouse. There Grace proved to be no less tender as a nurse than she had been brave as a sailor. She cared most kindly for the shipwrecked men until the storm had died away and they were strong enough to go to their own homes.

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All this happened a long time ago, but the name of Grace Darling will never be forgotten. She lies buried now in a little churchyard by the sea, not far from her old home. Every year many people go there to see her grave; and there a monument has 10 been placed in honor of the brave girl. It is not a large monument, but it is one that speaks of the noble deed which made Grace Darling famous. It is a figure carved in stone of a woman lying at rest, with a boat's oar held fast in her right hand.

1. This is a true story of one of the heroines of the sea. What is a heroine? Where did she live? You may be able to locate the islands off the coast of Northumberland, England, in your geography.

2. What did Grace Darling do that caused her to be one of the figures in history and story? You will be interested to know that she was loaded with all kinds of presents for her bravery. But unfortunately she took consumption (tuberculosis of the lungs) not long after her heroic act, and died at the age of 27 years, in 1842.

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BY GUY WETMORE CARRYL

O EASTWARD ringing, to westward winging, o'er mapless miles of sea,

On winds and tides the gospel rides that the furthermost isles are free,

And the furthermost isles make answer, harbor and height and hill,

Breaker and beach cry each to each, ""Tis the Mother who calls! Be still!"

Mother! new-found, beloved, and strong to hold from harm,

Stretching to these across the seas the shield of her sovereign arm,

Who summoned the guns of her sailor sons, who bade her navies roam,

15 Who calls again to the leagues of main, and who calls them this time home!

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And the great gray ships are silent, and the weary watchers rest,

The black cloud dies in the August skies, and deep in the golden west

Invisible hands are limning a glory of crimson bars, And far above is the wonder of a myriad wakened stars! Peace! As the tidings silence the strenuous cannonade, Peace at last! is the bugle blast, the length of the long blockade,

And eyes of vigil weary are lit with the glad release, From ship to ship and from lip to lip it is "Peace! Thank God for peace."

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Ah, in the sweet hereafter Columbia still shall show The sons of these who swept the seas how she bade 10 them rise and go, —

How, when the stirring summons smote on her chil

dren's ear,

South and North at the call stood forth, and the whole

land answered, "Here!"

For the soul of the soldier's story and the heart of the

sailor's song

Are all of those who meet their foes as right should meet with wrong,

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Who fight their guns till the foeman runs, and then, 20 on the decks they trod,

Brave faces raise, and give the praise to the grace of their country's God!

Yes, it is good to battle, and good to be strong and

free,

To carry the hearts of a people to the uttermost ends

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of the sea,