Grace Darling

Eva Hope

Description

Read the extraordinary tale of Grace Darling, the Victorian heroine who, with her father, saved the lives of 13 people when the SS Forfarshire was wrecked on a small island near her father's lighthouse.

Sujets

• Lettres et linguistique

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 15 juin 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781781665220
• Langue: English

Extrait

Grace Darling
Heroine of the Farne Islands
BY
EVA HOPE
This edited version, including layout, typography, additions to text, cover artwork and other unique factors is copyright © 2012 Andrews UK Limited
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
THIS VOLUME
IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO
MISS THOMASIN DARLING,
THE BELOVED SISTER OF THE HEROIC GRACE DARLING,
IN RECOGNITION OF HER CHRISTIAN CHARACTER
AND AMIABLE DISPOSITION, BY
THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER I.
WOMAN'S WORK.
"The rights of woman, what are they?
The right to labour and to pray;
The right to succour in distress;
The right, when others curse; to bless;
The right to lead the soul to God,
Along the path the Saviour trod."
What is woman's work? This is one of the vexed questions of to-day, and it is one which, doubtless, sometimes troubled the unwilling brains of our forefathers, though to a less extent. They settled it more rapidly and satisfactorily than we are able to do, for, "in the long ago," women were less ambitious than they are now. In our times, they have so forced themselves to the front, that a number of questions have necessarily to be considered; and what woman ought to do, what she can do, and what she must do, are subjects which afford interesting and useful topics of conversation in all circles. As might have been expected, the opinions of even wise men vary with regard to this matter. "A woman is good as a house-wife, and a mother," say some. "But as there are not homes enough for them all, something else must be thought of," say others. "A woman has neither strength enough, nor brains enough, for most occupations," say her detractors. "A woman is capable of doing almost anything a man can do, especially those things which are the most honourable and remunerative," say the most enthusiastic advocates of woman's rights. There are some, indeed, who would gladly aid her to mount the very highest pinnacles of fame and social distinction. There are others who are jealous if she succeed in getting her foot, even upon the lowest step of the ladder, and who would be glad, like the Friend of Mrs. Stowe, to give the intruder a push, with the words, "Thou art not wanted here."
In the midst of this clamour of inharmonious voices, it is a little amusing to see how quietly and effectively some women settle the matter for themselves. If, indeed, they are among the best of their sex, they are surely qualified to judge, not only of their own ability, but also as to that which is proper. And they have no difficulty in finding this reply to the puzzling question - A WOMAN'S WORK IS THAT WHICH SHE SEES NEEDS DOING. It is her duty to put her hand to any occupation that is waiting for workers. If a fire is raging, and she have strength to bring a bucket of water, and throw over it, is she guilty of an unwomanly action if she obey the impulse of her heart, and work diligently by the side of men whose work it is? If she see "another woman's bairnie" in trouble, is she not right to rush into the streets and snatch him from the danger which threatens him, as the horses come tearing by, and the huge and laden vehicles shake the houses? And is she less a woman, if, seeing these children grown up to manhood, she beholds them exposed to greater dangers than their childhood ever knew, and hastens to their rescue with brave and inspiring words?
To draw the line which separates the right and wrong of other people's actions, is always a difficult, if not an impossible thing, and yet it is what almost everybody attempts. It is right, say some, for a woman to instruct her own family in Biblical knowledge, and she may even invite the children of her neighbour to be present while she does so. But if the little social gathering should become a congregation, so that, instead of meeting in the lady's own room, it should be necessary to borrow a mission-hall or a chapel, then even her friends shake their heads, and bring the blush to her face by suggesting that she is doing an unwomanly thing. It is right and proper that she should know so much of medicine as to be able successfully to doctor her own children. Nor is she all that she ought to be unless she can tell, in an emergency, what is best for her husband, and many of the poor who may seek her advice. But if the joy of healing prove a fascination and a snare to her, and in order that she may not be a burden to father or brother, or to enable her to provide for orphan children left to her care, she endeavours to enter the medical profession, and receive money for her services, what a terrible hue-and-cry is raised against her.
The Lord Jesus Christ once uttered a very high eulogium upon a woman, against whom words of bitter blame and indignation were spoken. There was a supper at the house of Simon, the Leper, and to him was given the honour of entertaining a Guest who was not only royal, but divine. There were also present three members of a family who owed the Saviour life-long thanks for benefits received. One of them, a woman, whose name was Mary, felt so burdened that she could not let so good an opportunity pass without in some way expressing her emotions. She therefore brought a very expensive gift, an alabaster box of precious ointment, and, breaking the box, she poured the ointment on the head and feet of Jesus, thus performing a graceful act of womanly ministration. It was uncommon in some respects, and this of itself was sufficient to draw down upon her the scathing rebuke of the unsympathetic on-lookers. "Why was this waste of the ointment made? It might have been sold for more than three hundred pence, and have been given to the poor. And they murmured against her." But He, who is always woman's best friend, took Mary's part against her accusers. "Let her alone; why trouble ye her? She hath wrought a good work on Me, for ye have the poor with you always; and whensoever ye will, ye may do them good, but Me ye have not always. SHE HATH DONE WHAT SHE COULD."
In these words, we think we have an answer to the question, What is woman's work? Is it not this? - SHE MAY DO WHAT SHE CAN. She is not, of course, to go abroad seeking work, while work is ready to her hand. She is not to neglect homely duties, for those which call her away from friends and kindred who need her. She is not to stretch out her hands beseechingly for higher service, if they are already full of lowly tasks not yet accomplished. But if she have leisure, strength, and ability - if there are no God-given ties that ought to hinder her - if she sees fields white ready to harvest, and knows that the labourers are all too few - then, in Christ's name, let her do with her might whatsoever her hands find to do.
It is surely this which the voice of GRACE DARLING, the heroine whom the hearts of men and women alike agree to love and revere, is saying to us still, and has said ever since her brave deeds thrilled the world. She gave her thoughts and powers, with conscientious diligence and perseverance, to the common-place duties of her lot, but she was none the less ready, when the occasion came, to go forth over the stormy waters to do a most uncommon deed of daring. Usually, she was happy and content in being a blessing to her own family; but she was not afraid to forget herself, nor unable to rise above the natural timidity of her sex, when the noblest and strongest passions of her heart were aroused on behalf of men, women, and children, who were in danger of a watery grave.
There are other great women, her sisters, of each of whom it may also be said, "She hath done what she could." Most of these have been helped by circumstances to do their brave deeds so silently that the world does not even hear their names. But to a few it happens that duty calls them to their work in the face of the crowd, and this may be providentially ordered that those who look on may be thus taught the hopeful and inspiring lessons of a good woman's life.
Illustrations of women whose work has been heroic, are not wanting.
It is not very long ago since the world rang with the name of FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. She was an educated and accomplished young lady, the daughter of a wealthy man, who might have been content to live the quiet life of luxury to which she was born. But God had given to her a tender heart, which would not permit her to look on suffering without longing to alleviate it; and when she was twenty-one years old, she began to take an interest in the condition of hospitals. After a time she went into the Protestant Deaconesses Institution at Kaiserswerth, that she might be trained as a nurse. At the end of ten years of preparation, she entered upon her life-work. War was declared with Russia; and when the battle of the Alma had been fought, the wounded crowded the hospitals. But the condition of these places was so terrible, the men died of disease so rapidly, that the death-rate was greater than if they had fallen in fight. In this appalling crisis, Miss Nightingale offered her services. These were thankfully accepted; and a week afterward, the lady and her nurses left England for Scutari. What she did there has since become matter for history. On one occasion, she was on her feet for twenty hours at a stretch, until all the poor fellows who had been brought in were comfortably accommodated. None can tell how many lives she was the means of saving.
"Neglected, dying in despair,
They lay till woman came
To soothe them with her gentle care,
And feed life's flickering flame.
"When wounded sore on fever's rack,
Or cast away as slain,
she called their fluttering spirits back,
And gave them strength again.
"'Twas grief to miss the passing face
That suffering