“Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.
“She girdeth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth her arms.
“She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth
her hands to the needy.
“Strength and honour are her clothing, and she shall rejoice in time
to come.
“She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the
law of kindness.
“Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.
“Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman that feareth
the Lord, she shall be praised.
“Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise
her in the gates.” Solomon.

It was not possible for Grace to carry out the Scriptural injunction, and not let her right hand know what her left hand did, for no sooner was the account of the wreck published in the newspapers, than the most intense excitement was created, and a whole stream of admiration and praise set in the direction of the lighthouse-girl. Such an occurrence would naturally arouse the enthusiasm of our countrymen and countrywomen, who would consider that they could not too strongly express their feelings of delight.

All thoughts were immediately turned to the wreck, and great interest was felt in the survivors. Inquiries were at once made, in order to ascertain the number of those who were lost in the “Forfarshire.” It was not possible to do so, however, for no entries had been made at the time of embarkation, so that it was never certainly known how many had perished. It was supposed that the passengers numbered more than fifty, and the crew about twenty. Many of the sufferers were Scotch, and some came from a long distance. One gentleman lost his wife, son and grandson; another his mother and brother. The captain, and his wife, as has been already stated, were both drowned.

Many people visited the wreck, some from curiosity and some because they had a good purpose in view. The wreck consisted of the forecastle, part of the engine, paddle-wheels, anchor, cable, foremast, and rigging. Two of the boilers were broken on the rock, and the others were washed out to sea. Search was made for the missing bodies, with partial success; but the cargo, which was of great value, could not be restored. Parts of the wreck were brought by the waves to different places, such as Hauxley, Amble, Hartley, and other parts of Northumberland. The fishermen and revenue officers made every effort, and rendered all possible assistance, but nothing of much value could be recovered.

While this was going on, the Longstone lighthouse became the centre of a marvellous fascination to thousands of people. The story of the girl going out in the boat over a stormy sea, and succeeding in saving a number of lives that were in jeopardy, thrilled the hearts of all who read, and made them eager to know more of the wonder. Nor was simple curiosity all that was excited. It was felt that such a deed deserved most substantial reward, and a public subscription was at once set on foot. To this the bank-notes and gold of the wealthy, the silver of the middle classes, and the coppers of the poor, were willingly given; and in a short space of time Grace was presented with the splendid sum of 700 pounds.

“The Royal Humane Society” could not allow such an act to pass by without notice, but forwarded a very expressive and flattering vote of thanks to her. As if this were not enough, the President of the Society presented her with a very handsome silver teapot, in generous acknowledgment of her service. Money, indeed, flowed in as well as congratulation and praises. From Sunderland a cheque was sent by Mr. Kidson; and we are able to give Grace’s reply:

“To Mr. Kidson, Sutherland.

“Kind Sir I acknowledge the receipt of yours of yesterday, with the cheque for 15 pounds, 2 shillings, for which I trust you will return my sincere thanks to the subscribers. At the same time, I should feel much additional gratification if you could, without much trouble, send me the names of the same, which I wish to preserve.

“I remain, Sir,
“Your very obliged servant,
“G. H. DARLING.

“Longstone Light,
January 22nd, 1839.”

At Newcastle, as was only to be expected, the greatest enthusiasm prevailed, and in that town alone the sum subscribed reached the amount of 280 pounds, 10 shillings, 3 pence. Of this Grace herself received 160 pounds, while a present of 58 pounds was made to her father, and 35 pounds to the North Sunderland boatmen.

A statement of the amount of subscriptions having been forwarded to her in a letter, Grace was so affected by the perusal of its contents, that, as she noted the sympathising language in which it was couched, she shed tears of pleasure so exquisite as are rarely shed by mortals. In the reply, after expressing, in natural and unstudied language, the grateful sense entertained by her of the kindness of her friends in that town, she solicited the names of the subscribers. It was only natural she should wish to know and preserve them, for they were those of her really warm friends and admirers. This request was unhesitatingly complied with, and the sheet has been carefully preserved in the lighthouse, where we suppose it may still be seen. Amongst the list occur the Trinity House, the Corporation, T. E. Headlam, Esq., (that year mayor), Richard Clayton, Matthew Bell, M.P., George Hawks, Joseph Cowen, and a great many others.

An additional pleasure, as gratifying as any previously received, was the following letter, addressed by the hero of Navarino to the Editor of the “Sun":

“SIR As I do not know where to send the enclosed subscription for Grace Darling, I shall feel obliged by your forwarding it to the committee.

“I earnestly hope that the amount collected may be commensurate with the extraordinary deserts of that heroic girl, whose conduct in such a perilous and almost hopeless undertaking, does honour to humanity. I remain, &c.

“E. CODRINGTON.”

“The Royal National Institution for the Preservation of Life from Shipwreck” voted the silver medal of the Institution to Mr. Darling and his daughter, and also subscribed the sum of 10 pounds in aid of the Darling Fund.

The Directors of the “Glasgow Humane Society” sent to Grace their honorary medal, to mark the high sense entertained by them of her meritorious conduct. It bears the following inscription:

“Presented by the Glasgow Humane Society to Miss Grace Horsley Darling, in admiration of her dauntless and heroic conduct in saving (along with her father) the lives of nine persons from the wreck of the ‘Forfarshire’ Steamer, 7th September, 1838.”

The money was most freely and lavishly contributed, every one appearing to feel it an honour to testify their appreciation of the heroism and simple courage of Grace Darling in every conceivable way. His Grace, the Duke of Northumberland, exhibited a very kindly interest in all that was being done, not only giving a handsome subscription towards the testimonial himself, but taking charge of the moneys that were collected. Nor did his kindness end even here; for with a sincere desire that the greatest possible advantage should be gained from the contributions of the public to the maiden for whom they were sent, he advised her as to the best means of disposing of the sums.

If she had chosen, Grace might have made very considerable profit out of the deed. Of course, her portrait was taken, and copies of it sold with astonishing rapidity. Pictures were painted and printed, and the members of every household appeared to wish to possess one. Seeing the furore which the girl had excited, one enterprising manager of a theatre conceived the idea of having the occurrence represented on the stage, and offered her 800 pounds for merely sitting in a boat, so that all eyes might see her. She, however, was too modest a girl to take delight in anything of the kind. “She was glad to have saved lives at the risk of her own,” she declared, “and would most willingly do it again if opportunity should occur, but she could not feel that she had done anything great; and certainly she did not wish for the praise that was bestowed upon her. As to going to the theatre to receive the plaudits of a curious crowd, that was the last thing she desired!”

She was very nearly being caught in a trap however, which was rather cleverly laid for her. When receiving congratulations and being interviewed was the order of the day, and therefore excited no suspicion, a stranger came to the lighthouse, who announced himself as a friend of Mr. Batty, the proprietor of an equestrian circus, which was then exhibiting at Edinburgh. Mr. Batty had given an entertainment for the benefit of Grace, and had thereby brought an overflowing audience to his theatre. The stranger who came was welcomed as usual by the Darlings, who gave him all the hospitable attentions that were in their power, as indeed was their custom. They could not help being pleased with him, for his manners were courteous, his conversation lively, and he evidently had a great desire to ingratiate himself into their favour. He held frequent talks with Grace, whom he flattered warmly, though so respectfully that he did not give offence, and after a time he contrived to insinuate a hint of his plan.

“The people of Edinburgh admire you exceedingly, Miss Darling. I cannot imagine anything that would give them greater pleasure than to see you, if you would visit their beautiful city.”

“I should like to see it very much, but I do not care to be looked at by the curious eyes of strangers,” said Grace.

“Indeed, if the people are strangers, they would be more friendly than curious, and you know how sincere is their admiration of your heroic act,” said the man.

“I know they are much more kind than I deserve; and really I am not sure but that it would make me happy to shake the hands of some of them who are, though I have never seen them, my friends.”

“I wish you would come while Mr. Batty’s company is there, Miss Darling. It would give me great pleasure to show you any of the lions of Edinburgh, or indeed to serve you in any way I could.”

“You are very kind; I will think about it.”

“Cannot you decide while I am here? Mr. Batty would himself be most delighted to see you! May I not say that we shall have the pleasure?

“Perhaps you may. I almost think I will accept the kind invitation.”

“Thank you. It will give me the most intense satisfaction, you may be quite sure of that.”

Before the gentleman went away, he said something which Grace seemed to consider in the light of a joke about her presenting herself in Mr. Batty’s circus. But the young woman did not of course seriously consider such a thing, nor even look at it in the light of a proposition.

Before he left the visitor handed a paper to Grace, requesting her to sign it. She ought to have read it, but not being well versed in the ways of the world, did not consider it necessary to do so; and only glanced at a word or two before writing her name, imagining that she was simply sending an acknowledgment of the money that Mr. Batty had forwarded.

Then the man left; but if he had only honestly declared his true errand, his reception would have been very different.

What this really was came to light a few days later, when an old and valued friend of the family visited the lighthouse. Grace went forward to greet him with a smile of warm welcome, when she was suddenly chilled by his very grave and cold manner.

“You are not pleased with me? What is the matter?” cried Grace.

But the friend turned to William Darling, and began to expostulate with him.

“I am not surprised that you should be carried away by the stream of admiration which has been lately pouring in upon you,” he said, “but I never expected that you would consent to such a thing as this in connection with Batty. Grace might not know better, perhaps, but I cannot think how her father could ever give his consent to her submitting to the degradation of exposing herself in the area of a circus for any idle eyes that please to gaze upon her.”

“What do you mean?” cried Mr. Darling, in horror. “I cannot understand you! I have given my consent to nothing of the kind!”

“Have you really done it without your father’s permission?” said the friend, turning to Grace.

“I wish you would explain yourself,” said she. “I do nothing without first consulting my father, and I am conscious of no wrong now.”

“Yes, explain yourself,” said Mr. Darling. “No man can be more anxious than I to protect his daughter. Grace never has, and never shall do anything that would compromise her fair fame. I will watch jealously over that.”

William Darling felt warmly, and spoke as he felt, and the visitor hastened to explain.

“I am told on good authority, and indeed I know it to be true, that Mr. Batty holds an agreement, signed by Grace, in which she pledges herself to appear in his circus!”

“Oh, Grace, you surely never did such a thing!” cried her father.

“No, father; indeed, I did not,” said Grace, upon whom, however, a light flashed which caused her to suspect the urbane visitor of a few days before. “But, father, I did sign a paper, which I believed was nothing but an acknowledgment of the money that Mr. Batty sent me.”

“Did you put your name at the bottom of the document without first reading it?”

“Yes, I did.”

“A most foolish thing to do,” remarked their friend; “but the conduct of the man who secured a promise in such a way, was most abominable.”

“Certainly it was,” replied Mr. Darling; “and such an agreement cannot be binding. Indeed, I will at once compel Mr. Batty to contradict the report which is afloat. What a shame it was!”

Grace coloured with vexation, and there was an indignant ring in her voice, which told how deeply the insult had hurt her.

“I could not help being flattered by the attentions he paid me,” said Grace; “but now, that I see what they were for, I feel completely humiliated.”

“I will write a letter to this Batty at once,” said Mr. Darling, “and let him know what we think of his conduct.”

“Do,” replied his friend, “you cannot be too decided in such a matter.”

Mr. Darling wrote, expressing, in strong terms, the indignation which they all felt at the deception which had been practised upon them, and insisted that Mr. Batty should at once contradict the false report which he had published.

The friend who had cared so much for the family as to come to the islands to expostulate with the Darlings on this subject, received the warmest thanks, both of Grace and her father, for his kindness and solicitude. Grace felt that she could scarcely forgive Mr. Batty; and never afterwards alluded to the circumstance, without giving expression to her feelings of mortification. She had been really humiliated; and the occurrence caused her to feel what every woman does feel in similar circumstances, that although good deeds draw the attention of the world upon herself, yet there is very much that is repugnant connected with publicity. The little glimpse that is here given of the character of Grace Darling’s father is interesting. He was a member of the Church of England, and a good man. He was upright, honourable, and courageous, as we have already seen several times; and he was very particular with regard to the habits of the children. He did not allow cards nor dice in his household, nor believe that people could go to theatres without receiving some contamination. He wanted the young men and women of his family to be content with simple pleasures, and find their joy in doing their duty, and in the companionships of their home. He had a special wish that the girls should be modest and retiring; and although Grace had been forced to the front, he was still anxious that she should not lose any of her maidenly reserve. It can, therefore, be imagined how she was shocked and pained at the idea of her appearing in the circus.

Grace become more and more famous as the time went on. She paid a visit to the Duchess of Northumberland, who sent for her, but such an event deserves a special chapter. She did not see the Queen, but Her Majesty was well acquainted with the heroic deed, and the following ballad is said to have been sung in the presence of our royal and beloved Lady:

“The winds blew hard, the day looked dark,
The clouds shot light’ning forth,
But still the bold and vent’rous bark
Sailed from the black’ning north.
To foam was dashed each threat’ning wave,
As o’er the vessel flew;
The sea yawned like a hungry grave
Around the gallant crew.

“When night closed in the storm grew worse,
The boldest heart did quail;
The pious prayer the wicked curse
Were mingled with the gale.
On, on they flew, with fated force;
They struck the deadly reef:
They sank! and through the wind so hoarse
Was heard the shriek of grief.

“While many a manly spirit quenched
Its life beneath the wave,
A few from death a moment wrenched,
Clung o’er an awful grave.
Their cries were heard from lonely tower,
Unseen amidst the gloom;
A simple girl was sent, with power
To snatch them from the tomb.

“She urged her aged sire to ply,
With her, the frail boat’s oar;
A father’s love had mastery,
He dared not leave the shore.
Her prayers prevailed they forth were led
By God’s own helping hand;
And those who were accounted dead
Sang praises on the land.

“’Tis sad to think the ocean cave
May hide a gem so pure
But joy to feel ’tis ours to save
Such worth from fate obscure.
Then let us sing ‘The boatie rows,’
To tell of her fair fame,
Who honour on the race bestows
Grace Darling is her name.

“‘The boatie rows, the boatie rows,’
In safety through the deep;
For Grace on Mercy’s mission goes,
And angels watch shall keep.”

Numerous songs in honour of the lighthouse-maiden were written and sung, some of which we shall give in these pages. Among the rest was the following, which both Grace and her father highly esteemed, as it was from the pen of Wordsworth:

“Among the dwellers in the silent fields
The natural heart was touched, and public way,
And crowded street, resound with ballad strains,
Inspired by one, whose very name bespeaks
Favour divine, exalting human love,
Whom, since her birth on bleak Northumbria’s coast,
Known but to few, but prized as far as known,
A single act endears to high and low
Through the whole land to manhood, moved in spite
Of the world’s freezing cares to generous youth
To infancy, that lisps her praise and age,
Whose eye reflects it, glistering through a tear
Of tremulous admiration. Such true fame
Awaits her now; but, verily, good deeds
Do not imperishable record find
Save in the rolls of heaven, where her’s may live,
A theme for angels, when they celebrate
The high-soul’d virtues which forgetful earth
Has witnessed. Oh! that winds and waves could speak
Of things which their united power call’d forth
From the pure depths of her humanity!
A maiden gentle, yet, at duty’s call,
Firm and unflinching as the lighthouse reared.
On the island rock, her lonely dwelling place,
Or like the invincible rock itself that braves,
Age after age, the hostile elements,
As when it guarded holy Cuthbert’s cell.

“All night the storm had raged, nor ceased nor paused,
When, as day broke, the maid, through misty air,
Espies far off a wreck, amid the surf,
Beating on one of those disastrous isles.
Half of a vessel! half no more! The rest
Had vanished, swallowed up with all that there
Had for the common safety striven in vain,
Or thither thronged for refuge. With quick glance
Daughter and sire through optic glass discern,
Clinging about the remnant of this ship,
Creatures how precious in the maiden’s sight!
For whom, belike, the old man grieves still more
Than for their fellow-sufferers engulphed
Where every parting agony is hushed,
And hope and fear mix not in further strife.
’But courage, father! let us out to sea
A few may yet be saved.’ The daughter’s words,
Her earnest tone and look, beaming with faith,
Dispel the father’s doubts; nor do they lack
The noble-minded mother’s helping hand
To launch the boat; and with her blessing cheer’d,
And inwardly sustained by silent prayer,
Together they put forth, father and child!
Each grasps an oar, and, struggling, on they go
Rivals in effort; and, alike intent
Here to elude and there to surmount, they watch
The billows lengthening, mutually cross’d
And shattered, and regathering their might,
As if the wrath and troubles of the sea
Were by the Almighty’s sufferance prolong’d
That woman’s fortitude so tried, so proved
May brighten more and more!

“True to that mark,
They stem the current of that perilous gorge,
Their arms still strengthening with the strengthening heart,
Though danger, as the wreck is neared, becomes
More imminent. Nor unseen do they approach;
And rapture, with varieties of fear
Incessantly conflicting, thrills the frame
Of those who, in that dauntless energy,
Foretaste deliverance; but the least perturb’d
Can scarcely trust his eyes, when he perceives
That of the pair tossed on the waves to bring
Hope to the hopeless, to the dying, life
One is a woman, a poor earthly sister;
Or, be the visitant other than she seems!
A guardian spirit sent from pitying heaven,
In woman’s shape! But why prolong the tale,
Casting weak words amid a host of thoughts
Arm’d to repel them? Every hazard faced,
And difficulty mastered, with resolve
That no one breathing should be left to perish,
This last remainder of the crew were all
Placed in the little boat, then o’er the deep
Are safely borne, landed upon the beach,
And in fulfilment of God’s mercy, lodged
Within the sheltering lighthouse. Shout, ye waves!
Pipe a glad song of triumph, ye fierce winds!
Ye screaming sea mews in the concert join!
And would that some immortal voice,
Fitly attuned to all that gratitude
Breathes out from flock or couch through pallid lips
Of the survivors, to the clouds might bear
(Blended with praise of that parental love,
Pious and pure, modest and yet so brave,
Though young so wise, though meek so resolute)
Might carry to the clouds, and to the stars,
Yea, to celestial choirs, GRACE DARLING’S name.”

By a less-known writer, but one who was evidently a keen admirer of
Grace, the following lines were also written:

“’Over the wave, the stormy wave,
Hasten, dear father, with me,
The crew to save from the wat’ry grave,
Deep in the merciless sea.
Hear ye the shriek, the piercing shriek,
Hear ye the cry of despair?
With courage quick the wreck we’ll seek,
Danger united we’ll dare.

“’Out with the boat, the gallant boat;
Not a moment to be lost.
See! she’s afloat, proudly afloat,
And high on the waves we’re tossed;
Mother, adieu, a short adieu;
Your prayers will rise to heaven.
Father, to you your child and you
Power to save is given.

“’I have no fear, no maiden fear;
My heart is firm to the deed,
I shed no tear, no coward tear;
I’ve strength in the time of need.
Heard ye the crash, the horrid crash?
Their mast over the side is gone;
Yet on we dash, ’mid lightning flash,
Safe, through the pelting storm.

“’The wreck we near, the wreck we near;
Our bonny boat seems to fly;
List to the cheer their welcome cheer
They know that succour is nigh.’
And on that night, that dreadful night,
The father and daughter brave,
With strengthened might they both unite,
And many dear lives they save.

“Hail to the maid, the fearless maid,
The maid of matchless worth,
She’ll e’er abide the cherished pride
Of the land that gave her birth.
They send her gold, her name high uphold,
Honour and praise to impart;
But, with true regard, the loved reward
Is the joy of her own brave heart.”

Very beautiful are the following lines, which appeared in the
“Newcastle Chronicle,” and were written by Miss Eleanor Louise
Montague:

“Sweet spirit of the merciful,
That smoothed the watery way!
From the true throb of heart to heart
Thou wilt not turn away;
Oh! softly, wilt thou lend thine ear,
When ’mid the tempest’s war,
The feeble voice of woman’s praise
Shall greet thee from afar.

“I see thee in thy rock-built home,
Swept by the dashing seas,
I hear thy voice as on that night
It stilled the rushing breeze.
When stirred by heavenly visions,
Thou didst burst the bonds of sleep,
To take thy place in peril’s path
The angel of the deep!

“Oh, where was then the tender form
That quailed to every blast!
Like the bread-gift to the famished,
‘Upon the waters cast!’
True to thy woman’s nature still,
While scorning woman’s fears,
Oh, strongest in her gentleness,
And mightiest in her tears!

“Fair as thine own heroic deed
Thou risest on my dream,
A halo is around thee,
’Tis the tempest’s lightning gleam
Upborne by every billow,
And o’erswept by every gale,
One sound hath nerved thy noble heart
The dying seaman’s wail!

“Thine eye onto the wreck is turned
Thy hand is on the oar
Where is that death-prolonging shriek?
It thrills the seas no more!
A human soul to life hath risen
Where’er thy wing hath waved:
The wail is hushed the storm is past
The perishing are saved!

“Thou standest, like thy native home,
A beacon lit on high;
Thy name comes o’er the waters
Like a nation’s gathering cry;
And England’s sons shall hail thee,
Where’er that name shall thrill,
A glory upon every wave
A light on every hill!”

So much praise was enough to turn the head of any less sensible girl than our heroine; but one who knew wrote of her after this time, in the “Berwick and Kelso Warder:” “It is indeed gratifying to state, that amidst all the tumults of applause, Grace Darling never for a moment forgot the modest dignity of conduct which became her sex and station. The flattering testimonials of all kinds which were showered upon her, never produced in her mind any feeling but a sense of wonder and pleasure. She continued, notwithstanding the improvement of her circumstances, to reside at the Longstone lighthouse with her father and mother, finding, in her limited sphere of domestic duty on the sea-girt islet, a more honourable and more lasting enjoyment than could be found in the more crowded haunts of the mainland, and thus afforded, by her conduct, the best proof that the liberality of the public had not been unworthily bestowed.”

A paper written in the “Scotsman” on the subject is exceedingly good, and no doubt amazed and delighted Grace as much as those that were more apparently eulogistic; for to a sensible, modest girl, too much praise is more disagreeable than none at all.

“The Grace Darling Mania. Never was poor girl in so fair a way of being spoiled as Grace Darling. We were amongst the first to acknowledge the credit due to this young damsel for her exertions at the wreck of the ‘Forfarshire;’ but really we begin to have serious apprehensions lest she herself should be whirled away by the tide of public favour which has set in so strongly towards her. Truly, the storm which roared and whistled over the Fern rocks on the night of her achievement has awakened a pretty echo in the mainland. Not only have large sums of money been collected throughout the country to reward the little heroine, but various silver cups and medals have been presented to her, both from private individuals and humane societies. Five pounds, it is said, have been given by one person (though not to her) for a lock of her hair, while the painter, the sculptor, and the poet, have caught the mania, and endeavoured to give permanence to her celebrity. She has even been represented on the London stage in the person of Mrs. Yates, and some whispers were lately afloat of her appearing in Batty’s arena in propria persona. She is also, we perceive, made the subject of a tale now in course of publication; while a vessel lately launched at Sunderland has been called after her name. In short, Grace Darling is the fashion. Dukes and Duchesses have entertained her as their guest, and she has even been honoured and rewarded by Royalty itself. What mortal girl could bear up against such rewards such flatteries? Without detracting from her really praiseworthy conduct, there is, we think, in the sensation she has created, a little touch of the romantic. Had Grace Darling been a married woman, dwelling in some poor alley in an ordinary town, and with no rarer or prettier an appellation than Smith, Brown, M’Tavish, or Higginbottom, a greater deed would, perhaps, have won her less favour. But a young woman a sea-nymph inhabiting a rock in the ocean, and coming to the few survivors of the wreck, like a bird of calm over the troubled waters who, that has a beating pulse, could resist! Grace Darling, too, is a name to take one’s heart and one’s memory; and although ‘a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,’ we cannot for all the pretty pleading of Juliet, read or speak about roses without feeling something of their fragrance. If, previous to that deed which has gilded her humble name, any honest fisher-lad ever saw in Grace Darling more to admire than even the world has seen since, he will win a true heart if he contrive to keep her affections. Those who have accidentally risen are, in general, the least inclined to stoop; and if she do not number suitors with Miss Burdett Coutts or Queen Victoria herself, Malthus or Martineau, one, or both of them, must answer for it. Meanwhile with Grace Darling we have no quarrel; and if her modesty only outlive the honours heaped upon her, we shall be the first to acknowledge that her courage has deserved them.”

Many a laugh, we may be sure, had the lighthouse-family over such articles, though there can be no doubt that the good sense of Grace caused her to take advantage of every lesson taught to her, whether by words of praise or blame. We cannot, perhaps, exalt her deed too highly, but it should always be borne in mind, that she would have been just as good a girl if the “Forfarshire” had never been wrecked on the coast of the Farne Islands. Grace was heroic already, but the catastrophe brought her qualities of courage, endurance, and humanity, to the front. One feels glad to know that all the praise did not make her other than the humble British girl, though few, perhaps, could pass through such an ordeal of adulation unscathed. The flatteries had, however, a ludicrous as well as a touching side, as may be seen from the following extract. Hero-worship leads to the hoarding of many things, including bark of trees, stones, mortar, old rags, and hair; and it is little wonder if Grace found the latter tendency rather inconvenient.

“Grace Darling’s name is now as well known throughout the island as Queen Anne’s; and to tell people of the decease of the one is about as necessary as to warn them of the living glory of the other. Grace is the admired of all admirers, and far is it from us to wish her grace diminished in men’s eyes, or herself less a darling than she is at present. But the enthusiasm of gratitude and idolatry is becoming somewhat alarming. We know not how the persons who, principally by her intrepidity, were saved from the wreck of the ‘Forfarshire,’ may feel towards their ‘good angel in the hour of fate,’ but every body else seems to think of her as one to whom they owe the life of some being related to themselves by blood, and inestimably prized by affection. The universal feeling in this case shows us how truly

‘One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.’

“All feel individually grateful to Grace Darling; and not a stranger that talks of her but knows her intimately. But, as we have said, the expression of this feeling of love and reverence is assuming an awkward character. It has taken, it appears, the shape or shapes of infinite demands upon her generosity in a minor way of countless and incalculable requests addressed to her by admirers of heroism, whenever stirred out of their arm chairs but to accommodate themselves, and trumpeters of intrepidity who have fainted at the bare idea of getting wet-footed, that she will be so exceedingly self-devoted and munificent as to clip from her head a curl just one as a token by which her name and nature may be identified and treasured up; just one ringlet one apiece, for upwards of ten thousand applicants scattered over various parts of the kingdom, but all linked together by a common sentiment. The last report is (we quote the newspapers) that Grace is nearly bald; that lock after lock has gone, each finding its way into ring, brooch, or locket, until

‘The Darling of life’s crew’

discovers, like Caesar, that a laurel crown may be worn for use as well as ornament may hide as well as adorn. Really, a lock at a time is an extravagance a hair should suffice; for if ever it could be said that

‘Beauty draws us by a single hair,’

it may be said of the moral beauty of Grace Darling.

“It is impossible to guard ourselves against the tendencies to enthusiastic devotion for the living life preserver, because the very name is a provocative. Were two such words ever before combined to form a name? the one expressing the natural quality of the bearer of it, and the other defining what her deeds have made her in the regard of others.”

Not only was Grace Darling herself likely to be made bald by the request of her loving admirers, but those who belonged to her shared the same inconvenience. One of her younger brothers was away at sea, and did not know of his sister’s fame until he came into the Thames. No sooner, however, was his name heard than he had to answer a number of questions. Did he know anything of the Longstone lighthouse? Had he a sister? Was the great Grace Darling any relation to him? As soon as it was known that he really belonged to the same family, he was himself exalted into a hero of the second class, and people thronged round to look at, admire, and cross-question him. The young fellow bore it all very good-humouredly in fact, he rather liked it. But after a time his numerous and newly-found friends conceived the idea of possessing a lock of the Darling hair, and the young man could not well refuse so flattering a request. So one helped herself, and told her friend, who told his friend, and so it went on; and the end was, that young Darling, who possessed a curly head of hair, became completely, and rather irregularly shorn.

We give two other extracts from papers that appeared at the time, or soon after. The following is from the “Spectator:”

“It is not often that heroines of real life possess the adventitious attractions of a pretty name, or a charming person; but Grace Darling has both. She would unquestionably have been loved and admired as heartily had she been Dorothy Dobbs, with a wide mouth, snub nose, and a squint; but it is pleasant to find coupled with a fine and generous nature, a lovely face, and a name at once euphonious and cherishable. Grace Darling! Poet or novelist need not desire one better fitted to bestow on a paragon of womanhood; we would see it embalmed in a sonnet by Wordsworth, or a lyric by Campbell; but it will live in our land’s language, even if not immortalised in song.”

The “Sunderland Herald,” of November 22nd, contained the following interesting article on the Darlings:

“Grace Darling, the heroine of the day, was born on the 24th of November, 1815; consequently she will be twenty-three on Saturday, the 24th inst. She is rather short in stature, being only five feet two and a half inches in height, but well proportioned. Her features are admirably adapted for the skill of the painter, and equally so for the chisel of the sculptor. She is modest and remarkably pleasant in her manners, and perfectly free from the shy awkward gait of country girls in general. And you will be surprised when I inform you, that there is excellent accommodation to be met with at the Longstone lighthouse, although it stands alone, upon a barren rock, five miles from the mainland. The tower is very ingeniously constructed, and contains a well-furnished sitting room, in which is a capital collection of popular works, and three or four comfortable bedrooms. These, with an abundance of good, wholesome, homely fare, together with the very cheerful service of Grace and her parents, render a visit to the Farne Islands a treat of no ordinary description. Grace was taught to read and write by her father, together with seven of her brothers and sisters; and their school-room was the lantern of the lighthouse.

“William Darling, the father of Grace, is only in the fifty-fourth year of his age, though he looks much older His face reminds me of the late Thomas Stothard, R.A., the painter of the Canterbury Pilgrimage, and his person, of the venerable Earl Grey. He reads much, and is most passionately fond of natural history.

“Mrs. Darling is a hale, comely old lady, bordering on threescore, and may be found engaged three parts of the day at her spinning wheel. It is true she assisted to make ready the boat at day-break, on the morning of the melancholy wreck of the ‘Forfarshire,’ but her heart failed when her husband and child pushed off; and, as the wave receded from the rock on which she stood trembling, with tears she exclaimed, ‘Oh, Grace, if your father is lost, I’ll blame a’ you for this morning’s work?’ And who would censure the mother under such circumstances, especially when the fact is known, that she was left alone on the island to witness their struggles as they crossed a pass between the Longstone rocks and those on which the surviving sufferers of the ill-fated ‘Forfarshire’ were anxiously looking out for help? The particulars of that noble deed have already been published, but I happen to have a newspaper account of another heroic action by the same family, which took place in the month of December, 1834, and was thus noticed in the ’Berwick Advertiser’:

“On Saturday night, December 27th, about eleven o’clock, the sloop ‘Autumn,’ of Peterhead, coal-laden, ran upon the Naestone rock, outside the Farne Islands, and immediately sunk; the master, in endeavouring to get the boat launched, unfortunately went down with the sloop! The other two men (being the whole of the crew), clung to the mast and topmast, and as the tide receded, descended the ship’s deck, and finally, about four o’clock in the morning, the rock appeared, which they got upon, and remained there till about eight o’clock, when they were discovered by the lighthouse-keeper, Darling, who most providentially, having his three sons with him spending their Christmas, got out their boat, and got alongside the rock about nine o’clock (half an hour before it was covered by the returning tide), and with great exertion succeeded in getting a rope thrown to one of the men, who, having lashed himself, was dragged through the sea to the boat; the other poor fellow, having previously died upon the fatal rock, was left there. With very great exertions Darling and his sons gained the lighthouse, having broken two of their oars whilst attempting to approach the rock; and thus crippled, they got a small sail set, but the wind being against them, they had much difficulty in regaining the island. Very great praise is due to Darling and his sons for their great exertions having run a considerable risk in approaching the rock with a heavy sea. A signal gun upon each island where the lighthouses are, would be of very great use in cases of accidents of this sort, when assistance could be immediately had from North Sunderland, Bamborough, or Holy Island for had it not been for the circumstance of Darling’s sons being there, this poor fellow must inevitably have perished.”

We are sure that the birthday of the heroine referred to in the above extracts was celebrated in many a home, and that hundreds of thousands of people wished her many happy returns of the day, a wish which, however, was not to be realised. But there can be no doubt that the day was a most happy one to her; for it is not many who, looking back upon a past year, can think of any good deed that deserves to stand side by side with that of Grace Darling.

The following birthday lines were written for her by Mr. J. G. Grant, of Sunderland:

“Maid of the Isle, heroic Grace!
’Midst desert rocks and tempests thrown,
As though in sternest clime and place,
Where life and man have scarce a trace,
Maternal Nature would embrace
A heroine of her own!

“Methinks, while yet in cradled sleep,
She loved and destined thee to be
A dweller of the craggy steep,
A watcher of the stormy deep,
And bade its wild waves nurse and keep
Thy heart as strong and free.

“She bade thee draw a deep delight
An influence kind an impulse brave,
From every season in its flight,
From gentle Spring and Summer bright,
From golden Autumn, and the might
Of winter’s wind and wave.

“By every aspect she could show,
In heaven above and earth below,
She bade thy spirit statelier grow,
And ‘champion human fears!’
Courage and love she bade thee know,
And with the noblest passions glow,
And melt with noblest tears!

“Like Ocean’s daughter Peril’s bride
She nurs’d thee by the roaring tide,
The playmate of its storms,
And bade thee be in soul allied
With moral grandeur, strength and pride,
To her thy monitress and guide
In all her moods and forms.

“To thee she said, in accents bland,
’These desert rocks and wild sea-land
Shall be as dear a father-land
As ever yet was dearest;
’Midst all of lone, and stern, and grand,
Thy heart shall burn, thy soul expand,
And thou shall know and understand
My voice in all thou hearest

“’Day’s radiant arch night’s cloudy dome,
Alike shall see thee fearless roam,
And life to thee shall dear become,
And thou its humblest forms shall blend
With the sweet charities of home,
S’en the poor sea-bird on the foam
Shalt be to thee a friend!’

“This nature wills; her will avails,
Thy matchless deed may show.
Thy lofty heart that did not quail
When raged on high the stormy gale,
And ocean rag’d below.
A meed of glory shall not fail!
Grace Darling’s is the noblest tale
That e’er made woman’s cheeks look pale,
Or man’s with envy glow!

“Heroic girl! these volumes take,
For proudest admiration’s sake;
Proud volumes so possess’d!
And may my own brave Constance make
A kindred admiration wake
In thy congenial breast!

“And wouldst thou know, ’heart-honoured maid!
How thrice a thousand-fold repaid
My humble gift may be?
With cheerful hand and heart unbraid
The band thy modest brow that shades,
And send, with three kind words convey’d,
One little tress to me!

“Be this a birthday doubly bless’d!
Joy to thine aged mother’s breast!
And long, caressing and caress’d,
May her maternal kiss,
While peaceful years melt calm away,
Make to thy heart each natal day
As joyous e’en as this!

“Brave daughter of a sire as brave
As ever risked a surging grave,
In tides of stormiest swell!
Thou that didst share that fearful strife,
All joy be to thee, maid or wife!
And may’st thou brave the storms of life
As fearlessly and well.”

It may be interesting to the reader to know that the boat which carried Grace Darling and her father to the “Forfarshire,” is probably in existence at the present day, It came into the possession of Mr. George Darling, of North Sunderland, who was the brother of Grace; and he took great care of it this boat, with a history of which so many people had thought with tears in their eyes! He had often been solicited to sell it, and at last did so, to Major Joicey, of Stocksfield-on-Tyne. Pieces of this boat have come in for the affection usually bestowed on interesting relics, for some planks that were taken out for repairs have been preserved as great treasures, and snuff-boxes and other articles have been made from them. But nothing is needed to keep in the hearts of the people of our own and other lands the memory of the gallant deed. Grace Darling is loved still, and we do not forget our beloved ones.

These records give some idea of the enthusiasm which had been awakened by the splendid deed which has been related. Cold-hearted critics there were, no doubt, who, never having done an unselfish action in their lives, would not believe in Grace Darling’s disinterestedness, and buttoned their pockets closely when asked to contribute towards the testimonial which was presented to her. But these were very few. The greater number who heard of the heroine’s name were generous in their praise, so that her name became a household word among them, and they were right, for they learned the blessedness of giving.