of a soldier of the Cross: and when
lifeboat duty called him, as in days gone by, to hold out his hand to
the perishing, even while in the act of saving their bodies he prayed
that the result might be salvation to their souls.

You may be sure that Jo did not forget Mary: but his thoughts about her
were wonderfully changed: for in this affair of the heart despair had
given place to trust and submission.

Time passed by, and one night in the dreary month of November the
storm-fiend was let loose on the shores of England. All round the coast
the crews of our lifeboats assembled at pier-heads and other points of
vantage to watch the enemy and prepare for action. Among others Jo
Grain and his comrades assembled at their post of duty.

It was an awful night--such as, happily, does not often visit our
shores. Thick darkness seemed to brood over land and sea. Only the
robust and hardy dared to show face to the keen, withering blast, which
was laden with sleet. Sometimes a gleam of lightning would dart through
the raging elements; occasionally the murky clouds rolled off the sky
for a short time, allowing the moon to render darkness hideously
visible. Tormented foam came in from the sea in riven masses, and the
hoarse roaring of the breakers played a bass accompaniment to the
yelling blast, which dashed gravel and sand, as well as sleet, in the
faces of those who had courage enough to brave it.

"There--wasn't that a light?" cried the coxswain of the lifeboat, as he
cowered under the shelter of the pier-wall and gazed seaward with
difficulty.

"Ay," responded Blunt, who was bowman of the boat; "there it goes
again."

"And a rocket!" shouted Jo Grain, starting up.

"No mistake now," cried the coxswain. "Look alive, lads!"

He ran as he spoke to the spot where the lifeboat lay ready under the
shelter of the pier, but Jo was on board before him. Almost
simultaneously did a dozen strong and fearless men leap into the noble
craft and don their cork life-belts. A few seconds sufficed. Every man
knew well his place and his duty. The short, powerful oars were
shipped.

"Give way!" cried the coxswain.

There was no cheer--no onlooker to encourage. Silently the strong backs
were bent, and the lively boat shot away towards the entrance of the
harbour like a "thing of life."

No description can adequately convey to landsmen the work to be done and
the conditions under which it was performed. On passing the shelte