The following narrative teaches a lesson of courage and devotion such as are seldom read.  In one of the light-houses of the desolate Farne Isles, amid the ocean, with no prospect before it but the wide expanse of sea, and now and then a distant sail appearing, her cradle hymn the ceaseless sound of the everlasting deep, there lived a little child whose name was Grace Darling.  Her father was the keeper of the light-house; and here Grace lived and grew up to the age of twenty-two, her mother’s constant helpmate in all domestic duties.  She had a fair and healthy countenance, which wore a kind and cheerful smile, proceeding from a heart at peace with others, and happy in the consciousness of endeavoring to do its duty.

It was at early dawn, one September morning, in the year 1838, that the family at the Longstone light-house looked out through a dense fog which hung over the waters.  All night the sea had run extremely high, with a heavy gale from the north, and at this moment the storm continued unabated.  Mr. and Mrs. Darling and Grace were at this time the only persons in the light-house; through the dim mist they perceived the wreck of a large steam vessel on the rocks, and by the aid of their telescope the could even make out the forms of some persons clinging to her.

It was the Forfarshire steamboat on her passage from Hull to Dundee.  She left the former place with sixty-three persons on board.  She had entered Berwick Bay about eight o’clock the previous evening, in a heavy gale and in a leaky condition; the motion of the vessel soon increased the leak to such a degree that the fires could not be kept burning.  About ten o’clock she bore up off St. Abb’s Head, the storm still raging.  Soon after the engineer reported that the engines would not work; the vessel became unmanageable; it was raining heavily, and the fog was so dense that it was impossible to make out their situation.  At length the appearance of breakers close to leeward, and the Farne lights just becoming visible, showed to all on board their imminent danger.

The captain vainly tried to run the vessel between the islands and the main land, she would no longer answer the helm, and was driven to and fro by a furious sea.  Between three and four o’clock in the morning she struck with her bows foremost on a jagged rock, which pierced her timbers.  Soon after the first shock a mighty wave lifted the vessel from the rock, and let her fall again with such violence as fairly to break her in two pieces; the after part, containing the cabin with many passengers, all of whom perished, was instantly carried away through a tremendous current, while the fore part was fixed on the rock.  The survivors, only nine in number, five of the crew and four passengers, remained in this dreadful situation till daybreak, when they were descried by the family at the light-house.  But who could dare to cross the raging abyss which lay between them?