THE DARLING FAMILY AT HOME.
"The merry homes of England!
Around their hearths by night,
What gladsome looks of household love
Meet in the rudy light!
There woman's voice glows forth in song,
Or childhood tale is told,
Or lips move tunefully along
Some glorious page of old.
"The cottage homes of England!
By thousands on her plains,
They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks,
And round the hamlet fanes;
Through glowing orchards forth they peep,
Each from its nook of leaves;
And fearless there the lonely sleep,
As the bird beneath their eaves.
"The free fair homes of England!
Long long in hut and hall
May hearts of native proof be reared
To guard each hallowed wall!
And green for ever be the groves,
And bright the flowery sod,
Where first the child's glad spirit loves
Its country and its God."--Mrs. Hemans.
It was said by One who knew the hearts of men, "A prophet is not
without honour save in his own country and in his own house," and there
is a pathos and truth about it that is often felt. Still, sometimes it
happens, very happily for those whom it concerns, that the best friends
one has are those of one's own household. It was certainly so in the
case of Grace Darling. She was always the favourite of her brothers
and sisters, and so delighted were they with the deed she had done, and
the honours she had won, that it is a wonder that they did not come
home to the lighthouse in a body to congratulate her and share in her
many honours. They did, however, look forward to the Christmas
holidays on that occasion, with most pleasant anticipations, believing
that the festival of the year, so memorable in the history of their
family would be one of the most happy they had ever spent. And so it
was--to Grace especially. She looked forward to it most eagerly, for
the praise she had received had made her, not less, but more loving to
these friends of her own home. Most of them she had not seen for a
year, and she thought with a thrill of delight of the joy that was in
store for her when they should again be happily together. She was glad
to have received the praise and gifts she had, because she knew that it
would be a gratification to them, and she often imagined the pleasure
with which she would show them the testimonials and presents which had
been given to her. Indeed, it is said that so excited was she, that
she could not sleep for thinking about it.
At last the long-looked-for time came, and the Darling family was
altogether once more in their beloved lighthouse home, and the
anticipations were realised. At first, there was actually a little shy
reserve, or distance, in the manner of some of them, as if they
expected that their sister would have become a fine lady since so much
fuss had been made with her. But Grace, who soon detected this
feeling, laughed so merrily at the absurdity of the idea that it soon
vanished, and they were brought to see and feel that her honours had
not made her one whit less affectionate and humble than she was when
they all lived together, and their sister had not been so much as heard
of in the great world. They gathered thankfully and joyously around
the cheerful fire, and looked into each other's faces, seeing only
pleasure and peace there, and the hours passed swiftly, as they thought
of Him who came to bring salvation to the world. He seemed to have
touched anew the hearts of the Darlings, and made them full of peace
and good-will to all the world.
Letters, even at Christmas time, are looked for most eagerly by the
dwellers in the lonely lighthouses around our coast; and during these
holidays a letter came to the Darlings which filled the whole family
with joy. It was from the Trinity House, London, and it contained a
high eulogium upon the heroic conduct of Mr. Darling and Grace, and
said that the managers had pleasure in appointing Mr. Brooks Darling to
be his father's assistant. They had observed the frequency of wrecks
on the coast near the Farne Islands, and saw that another man was a
necessity, and felt that none could better discharge the duty than one
of the same family. The "Berwick Advertiser" thus speaks of the
appointment:--
"The gentlemen of the Trinity House, London, have appointed Mr. Brooks
Darling, son of Mr. William Darling, to be his assistant at the outer
lighthouse. This is a most judicious step. The Trinity House has also
placed another man on the inner Farne light, making three men now upon
the island. An agent of Lloyd's is also to be appointed at Bamborough."
Brooks Darling had already shown himself worthy of the honoured name
which he bore. He was one of the brave men who went out from North
Sunderland to the wreck of the "Forfarshire," and placed his life in
jeopardy, as did his six companions, by doing so. They managed to gain
the Farne lights, however, and remained there during the continuance of
the storm. He had shown that he also possessed the characteristics of
his family, for he was intrepid, courageous, and humane.
He would have plenty of opportunities in his new position for the
display of these qualities. It had often caused his father the
greatest pain to witness wrecks which he was utterly powerless to aid.
One man could do almost nothing alone under such circumstances; and his
heart had often ached as he saw noble ships, and more valuable human
lives, destroyed on the terrible rocks. But now that his son would be
with him, he felt that together they might be the means of saving, not
a few, but many. It will therefore be seen that this change
contributed more than a little to the joys of that Christmas time. It
may be interesting to state that a son of Brooks Darling is now (1876)
the keeper of the Souter Point lighthouse, Durham.
It was found on this occasion that there was no need to resort to the
usual active Christmas games in order to make the time pass pleasantly,
for nothing was so agreeable and interesting to the family now as long
conversations. Grace, of course, was ever the chief object of all
their admiration, and they never wearied of asking her questions and
hearing her account of honours she had received and visits she had
paid. Besides talking to them, however, "Aunt Grace" joined in the
games, which, for the amusement of the children, were entered into, and
the aged couple, Mr. and Mrs. Darling, watched with delight the merry
pleasures of their grand-children, and the kindly attentions of their
beloved home-staying Grace, who was never too busy or too tired to sing
ballads, or tell stories, to the children, who were even now proud and
fond of their famous aunt.
But it was after the children had gone to bed that the grown-up people
had the best of the pleasure. One night when the weather was wild, and
the wind whistled around the house, and the sea was tossing up its dark
waves, Robert succeeded in getting from Grace a description of her
sensations when she went out to the wreck of the "Forfarshire."
"How did you feel, Grace," he asked, "when you found yourself alone
with father out on the stormy water? Confess now that you were very
much frightened, and that when you saw how distressed mother was, you
were half inclined to give up the attempt.
"No," said Grace; "I shall not confess to that which is not true. I
never stopped to think of the danger, and certainly did not in the
least realise it. Perhaps, if I had done so, I should have been afraid
to venture; but the fact was, I thought of nothing but the awful agony
of those who might be drowning. Their shrieks put every thing else out
of my head and heart, and the only fear that I had was that we might
not reach the wreck in time to be of any use. Even now I often fancy I
can hear their screams, and the thought makes me shudder."
"But you could not tell what you might be going to meet. It was quite
possible that you should have been yourselves drowned in the attempt,"
said Robert.
"Oh yes, but I was not afraid of that. I had strength and courage for
whatever we might encounter; and when the soldier is not afraid, half
the battle is won."
"That is true. But how could you bring yourself to go, Grace, in spite
of our mother's prayers and entreaties?"
"Well, my passion to save those drowning creatures swallowed up every
other thought. If it had not been so, I could not have disregarded
mother's tears as I did. I am not at all surprised that she felt as
she expressed herself. It was only natural and right that she should
do so. And really, when I think of all that she must have endured when
she saw us tossing about on the waves, and knew that perhaps she would
never see her beloved husband and wayward daughter again, the wonder is
that she was not less composed than she was, and that she had trust and
calmness enough to go down to the beach, and help us launch the boat.
But, oh, Robert, if you could have seen the joy and thankfulness with
which the poor creatures welcomed us--as if we had been angels--you
would understand that to do such a thing was worth all the trouble and
risk."
"Oh yes; I am sure I should feel the same," said Robert.
"Certainly you would, for you know what it is; you were one of those
who were so anxious to rescue poor Logan, don't you remember? And you
therefore know the joy that comes from performing a kind and brave
action."
"Yes, Grace, I remember very well. It is four years ago this Christmas
since we brought him from the very jaws of death to the lighthouse.
Poor fellow! I felt wonderfully interested in him. I wonder what has
become of him, and if he is any more fortunate now than he used to be.
Father, has he ever written to you?"
"No, he has not," replied Mr. Darling, "and I cannot think how it is
that he has not. But many things may have prevented him. Perhaps he
has gone abroad, or has been ill, or something of that sort. He
promised to write to me as soon as he had got a berth, and I do not
think he has forgotten his promise. Ho was quite overpowered with
gratitude when I parted from him, and magnified the kindness we had
shown him so much that it is very unlikely that he would have omitted
to write, unless something had really prevented him."
"Grace," said Elizabeth, "I am not yet satisfied with that which you
have told us about your visit to Alnwick. I want to know much more,
and, indeed, I think you should tell us every item about it, from first
to last."
"I am quite willing," said Grace, smilingly. "What is it you want so
particularly to know?"
"Tell us how you felt when you first saw the Duchess. As for me, I am
sure I should have been so frightened that I should not have dared to
look at so great a lady, and I am sure that I never should have spoken
to her."
"Oh," said Grace, "the truth is, that the sight of the Duchess did make
me feel as I had never felt before in my life, and I was indeed afraid
to lift my eyes from the ground. But when she spoke to me, it was
different. She begged me not to feel timid, and really, I felt that
she was intending to be kind, and that there was absolutely nothing to
be frightened about. She has such a kind way of speaking, that nobody
could long feel timid in her presence. I assure you, Elizabeth, that
before the interview was ended, instead of feeling alarmed at the
Duchess, I quite loved her. I could not help it, for she was so very
kind and courteous, that I was sorry when the time had gone."
She then gave them every particular that she could recall, of that
which happened from the time when they set their feet inside the gate,
until they came back again; and as Grace became animated with her
theme, all eyes sparkled with pleasure, and no one was uninterested.
"Do you not think that the lighthouse is a poor cheerless place after
all the grandeur that you saw at the castle, Grace."
"No, indeed," said Grace; "it is the dearest and sweetest spot on all
the earth to me, because it is home. There is no place like home.
Castles are good to see, but a home is the place to dwell in."
"Tell us about the great people who have been here to see you, Grace.
The place never had half so many visitors before, I suppose."
"I should think not," said Mr. Darling; "not even when St. Cuthbert
resided on the island, and deputations waited upon him. Of one thing
we may be sure, that so many artists never came before."
"No, indeed," said Grace. "I have had my own picture taken until I am
almost tired of sitting for it. But the paintings are wonderfully
good."
"They are indeed. Both father and Grace have been reproduced to the
life; and looking on their portraits, we can almost fancy that we are
looking on their real faces."
"I have seen in Newcastle," said Robert, "a grand picture of the wreck
by Carmichael, and it is most wonderful. As I looked at it, it quite
seemed to me that I must be on the rocks themselves, instead of in the
town of Newcastle, for it was all go very plain and real. The billows
are as foaming as they always are in great storms, and you can almost
see them moving about. I can tell you, Grace, that it made me tremble
when I looked at it to think that you and father had been in such
dreadful danger."
"I suppose you often hear Grace spoken of in Newcastle, Robert?"
inquired Mr. Darling.
"Yes, very often; and most flattering things people say. Really,
sometimes she is spoken of as if she were more than human; and father,
too, comes in for a good share of praise and admiration. I often
listen to what is said when the speakers little know that I belong to
them."
"Do you not make yourself known?"
"No; I prefer to remain in obscurity when I can, though I am proud to
be a Darling."
There was one subject about which all the sisters were particularly
curious. They wanted to know whether Grace intended to marry, and
whom; and whenever they were alone with her, they plied her with
questions that very greatly amused her.
"Do you mean to say, Grace, that you have passed through all this
without having your heart touched by any man?"
"I have no doubt," said Mary Ann, "that when Grace marries, it will be
into a higher sphere than that which we fill. She will marry a
gentleman; see if she does not."
Grace laughed heartily at this prophecy of her fond sister; and the
laughter rather nettled Mary Ann.
"I see nothing to laugh at, Grace," she said; "and why do you mock me?
I do not see that any position can be too high for you to fill, nor any
man too good for you to have."
"You are very kind," said Grace, still merrily. "I do not want to
offend you; please excuse me; but I cannot help laughing, though I
thank you for your wishes. You think more highly of me than I deserve;
and I am sure your great and romantic expectations will never be
realised. Why, even if a gentleman asked me, I should have to say No
to him; for only think what a poor figure I should cut as a rich lady.
I have lived in a lighthouse all my life, while ladies are sent to
boarding-schools, and are trained in all the refinements that are
natural to their station. I should be always making mistakes, and
bringing upon myself shame and confusion, if I were raised to any high
position in society. I should deserve to share the fate of the ladies
in 'Blue Beard,' if I did anything so foolish. But I never shall. I
should not be happy in such a marriage. There ought to be similarity
of tastes, pursuits, and training, between those who spend their lives
together, and I mean to stay in my own proper sphere, and not blush
myself, nor make any one blush for me, by entering an estate to which I
was not born."
"I think you are right," said Thomasin, "and I should decidedly feel as
you do in the same circumstances."
"Grace is very warm about it," remarked Elizabeth, though, in her
heart, she scarcely believed her sister. Rumours were afloat, and some
had reached her ears, and those of the other members of the family,
that Grace had already received very good offers. It was even said,
indeed, that gentlemen of rank had proposed for her hand, though, if it
were so, Grace certainly kept her own counsel with regard to them.
There can be no doubt, however, that her deed stirred many hearts to
love her; and that, if she had chosen, she might have left her island
home for one of far greater pretensions on the mainland. But Grace had
not been spoiled or changed by the flatteries she had received. She
was one of "the people," and did not aspire to leave their ranks. Her
sympathies were with them; and she asked nothing better than to spend
her life among them.
Besides this characteristic, Grace Darling's attachment to her home was
very strong and sincere. Like the Shunammite of old, she would have
said, "I dwell among mine own people;" and every Christmas that came
did but endear to her heart the parents whom she honoured, and the
brothers and sisters whom she loved. She clung to them, making their
interests her own, and delighting in nothing more than lifting the
burdens from their shoulders, and scattering about their pathways the
flowers of joy and contentment. And we are sure that she did that
which she longed to do; and that when the festival was over, and each
went back to the duties of his or her life, the memory of the love and
tenderness of their honoured sister would be as inspiration and
strength to them. A good life is never lived in vain. Its influence
is far-reaching and lasting, and all who come within its circle are the
better for it. Let the women of England remember that their power is
in their love, and that the homes they know shall surely be bright or
dark, sad or happy, as they shall make them, by their meek or gentle
spirit, and unselfish, devoted affection. Grace Darling's love of home
and kindred may well be imitated by all who are trying to do that which
is right. Women should understand that their home-life is the most
important, and give to it their devotion and love.