242 PERIL AND rescue; OR, PERIL AND RESCUE; OR, THE LIFEBOAT AND ITS WORK. BY A. M. HERE is something in the very word "lifeboat" which awakens our admiration and interest, admiration for the daring of the brave men who risk their lives to save their fellow-creatures, and intense interest in those who, but for the lifeboat, would meet a watery grave. Our picture brings one of these occasions vividly before us. "Those who never saw the raging sea cannot realise the danger incurred and the daring displayed when a lifeboat is dragged with wild haste over the shingle of some exposed coast to a rocky spot where a wreck is seen looming through the spray of the pitiless, pelting storm, and there launched into the hissing surf and rowed out to sea to the rescue of the shipwrecked in the teeth of tide and tempest. It is only those who dwell on the coast who know what this means, it is only those who have faced the storm who can properly estimate the value of the lifeboat." And what must be the feelings of those in such awful position on the wrecking ship as the lifeboat gets nearer and nearer to them? Will it reach them in time? It is no matter of careless chance to them whether they are in the lifeboat, or whether they are in the sinking ship. We can never be thankful enough for our "National Lifeboat Institution," which claims, for its patroness, Her Majesty Queen Victoria, and was founded in the year 1824. A lifeboat and its equipment costs £650, the average cost of a boathouse is £350 so you see it takes a £1,000 generally for each lifeboat, and the average annual expense of maintaining a station is £70. There are at present only 270 lifeboats in connection with the Institution, and "about 2,000 wrecks occur, nearly 1,000 lives are sacrificed, and about two millions sterling are lost every year on the shores of this kingdom." Oh how many sorrowed hearts and bereft homes does this involve! But to turn to the brighter side: 966 lives and 33 vessels were saved by the lifeboats in 1881. Rewards were also granted by the Institution for saving last year, by means of fishing and other boats, 155 lives, making the total 1,121. The number of lives saved by the Lifeboat Institution, or by special exertions for which it has granted rewards, since its formation, is 29,050. We might fill pages with the records of noble rescues by our lifeboats. Did you ever hear of the Ramsgate Lifeboat, which, on a *Office, 14, John Street, Adelphi, London W.C. THE LIFEBOAT AND ITS WORK. 243 winter's night in 1863, fought the storm for 16 hours, and saved 120 souls from death? Oh, thank God for the lifeboat, with its noble crew, who save others at terrible risk of their own lives! Thank God for all the money spent on saving lives. Yes, life is a precious thing, but its value is small in comparison to the preciousness of the immortal soul. "What shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" And every soul is in danger through sin (Ez, xviii. 4; Jo. iii. 36). But there is a certain way of rescue! Think of the wonderful type the lifeboat with its life-saving crew is of Christ. He is the Saviour. He has saved at the awful cost of His life; for He not only risked His life, but gave it. "While we were yet sinners Christ died for us." "For, if when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by His life" (Rom. v. 10). Yes, He is the true Lifeboat. Are you safe, in the Lifeboat? It is a solemn question, for so much depends on it; your peace and safety in this life, and your eternal happiness and security hereafter. Have you ever thought of it? Are you so foolish as to live on, day after day, not caring, unmindful of the wonderful provision God has made for you? Oh, take care! if you still persist in neglecting this "great salvation," lest it be too late, and God's most solemn words be said to you: "I also will laugh at your calamity, I will mock when your fear cometh; when your fear cometh as desolation and your destruction cometh as whirlwind" (Prov. i. 24-33). The true Lifeboat, the Saviour, Christ Jesus, who came to you at such cost, will have passed then, and there will be "a great gulf fixed, so that they which would pass from hence to you cannot." Think of the awful separation of that time, "for ever!" and come into the Lifeboat now-to-morrow may be too late; leave the danger, leave the wreck of your own good life," it may be, your own righteousness, your own efforts, leave all for the Son who hath "life in Himself," " he that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life" (John v. 26; iii. 36). Yes! there our simile fails us, for there is risk still, even to those in a lifeboat, till they are safe on land; but once in Christ we are safe for ever. "And I give unto them eternal life, and they shall never perish." What a lifeboat Noah's ark was! "Come thou and all thy house into the ark" (Gen. vii. 1). Shall it be so with us? all our dear ones with us, like the nobleman who "himself believed and his whole house" (John iv, 53; Acts xvi. 34). "And lo, God hath given thee all them that sail with thee" (Acts xxvii. 24). "And Joshua saved Rahab alive, and her father's household, and all that she had" (Josh. vi. 25). The Lord Jesus, our Joshua, 244 ABOVE THE WATERFLOODS. is "not willing that any should perish." Shall it be our resolve, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord χχίν..15). (Josh. M. Theodore Monod said lately, when speaking in England, "We will suppose that a ship has been wrecked to pieces on the rocks. The waves are beating it to pieces. But here comes a lifeboat through the surge, and the brave men, at the peril of their lives, reach the doomed vessel, and beckon the crew to jump into the boat. But how can I know,' says one of those ready to perish, how can I know that they will receive me into that lifeboat?' If they did not intend to receive him, would they have come for him? Thus, when Christ has come to seek and to save sinners, to forgive them, to cleanse them, to make them happy, let them never be so unreasonable as to inquire whether He will accept them." Are you going to keep the Lifeboat waiting longer, when it is close to where you are battling with the waves, refusing the wonderful Love that calls out to you through the darkness in such tender, pleading tones :-"Ye will not come to Me that ye might have LIFE"? "So out in the night on the wide, wild sea, ABOVE THE WATERFLOODS. BY SOPHIA M. NUGENT. E have been travelling this summer, and wanted to get beyond Switzerland, and to reach a spot called Cortina. It lay in the Tyrol part of Austria, and the mountains under whose shelter it lies are strangely different from any we had ever seen before. They are called Dolomites, and for years past we had longed to see them. Once before we had been very near them, but had not time to go to Cortina. How that week was planned and prayed over! For we had no wish only to travel for present pleasure, but we longed to lay in store of strength for future work for our loving Lord. We were to leave Switzerland on Tuesday, and reach Cortina on Saturday, and remain until the following Wednesday, when we must begin our return journey. To Bludenz Tuesday, to Landeck Wednesday, to Innsbruck Thursday, to Toblach Friday, that was our plan; and we reached Toblach successfully on Friday evening, joyously thinking that there were only 18 miles more to drive before we should reach our longed for goal, Cortina, next day. It was raining very fast when we arrived, and the mountains were nearly all invisible. Just where our road of the next ABOVE THE WATERFLOODS. 245 day lay, it was a little clearer, and we saw strange peaks peering out from the clouds against a background of a lurid colour. "That means fine weather," said a gentleman to us as we left the train. That was very cheering, and so we went up to the hotel which was to be our home for the night, with very eager steps. You must know what it was like. It was a large building, away from the village, standing just under one of the mountains, behind which lay Cortina. The porch was made of red porphyry, a kind of marble which is found in the Tyrol. First into a dreary hall, then up wide uncarpeted stone stairs, and then wooden ones, equally bare. All looked solid, but without much comfort, for no one cares to remain here except for one night on the way to Cortina. So of course no one was supposed to need comfort. Our rooms were almost as tiny as they could well be, and nothing in them except what was really necessary. "It is very good for one night," we cheerily said. It was rather sad to hear that it had been raining for a week, but we took comfort even out of that, saying, "It surely cannot rain much longer then." The next morning it was still raining heavily, so we did not start early, but ordered the carriage for two o'clock, in hopes it would clear. But about twelve o'clock my friend came to me with a blank face to say, "They have just come to tell me that we cannot go to Cortina to-day, for no one has come from there, and they fear that means that the road is damaged by the rain." Not go to Cortina to-day! Why that meant a Sunday in Toblach. It was a dreary thought, and we hoped against hope. Perhaps some one would arrive and say it is quite safe. But instead of that, worse news kept dropping in, first telling of the road being proved to be impassable; then came numbing news. The railway was broken too, the floods were out and swept over the line, and both east and west were injured. Our train was the last but one which had passed in safety. It broke on us with a horror—we are prisoners! prisoners in dreary Toblach, surrounded by floods, and no way out! But through the disappointment, it came like a flash of joy, "We are the Lord's prisoners!" It is His doing, all His, and we have no second causes to distract us from Him, and if we are like Noah, in his being surrounded by floods, we were also like him in that it was the Lord shut him in. No other hand but His had enclosed us, and we knew that He had shut Himself in with us. What should we do? We unpacked our little luggage, and we thought, "what a good day to write letters!" so we busily wrote. Suddenly it flashed on us with horror, "if there is no train, there is no post." That was a great blow for we knew those at home would be expecting to hear from us. That was a new cord to fasten us the closer in prayer to the Lord who had enclosed us. One hope remained to us, we might leave by the carriage-road though the line was broken. We asked. 66 Oh, no, impossible" was the answer. "It is impassable, too." So our last hope was cut off. 246 ABOVE THE WATERFLOODS. Worse news began to come, not only of damage to road and rail, but of ungarnered harvests being destroyed, and then of houses being in danger, and our inconvenience and discomfort began to fade before the threatening need of the poor peasants. On and on fell the rain, with hardly a break, all through the night, and Sunday and that night, and Monday too. We walked as far as we could on the Cortina road. In four places in three miles, unwonted torrents had rushed down from the mountains, with fearful force from their great steepness, sweeping over the road, and covering it several feet deep with piles of stones. We crossed with difficulty, and further found the road had fallen into the river in two places, leaving a sudden precipice. Far below, the clear and small river had become a flood of angry brown, and its wide way was strewn with fallen pines. A mill and a few houses stood in its way, and one of them was standing in the torrent up to nearly the top of its entrance. It gave us a sorrowful idea indeed, and when we saw another brown torrent tearing through the village, visiting every house on its way, we felt that we had indeed cause for gratitude at our house being safe. But our home letters! By Monday it seemed more hopeless than ever, and we prayed together that some way might be found to let our friends know where we were. Immediately after, we were told that the railway officials were going to send a messenger to force his way to Franzensfeste, 38 miles off, and he would take the letters. What the joy was I cannot tell. It was almost like being free ourselves to send our letters. We knew it was a perilous journey, and we asked together that the brave messenger might be kept. On Tuesday we met an Austrian officer in charge of forty men, who had been sent to help the poor people to build dams. While we watched them standing in the terrible river trying to divert its course by dams of fallen trees, he told us of their awful journey from Brüneck, 19 miles away. They were twelve hours over it, often in danger of their life, having to wade breast high through fearfully strong torrents. How soon would the line be mended? we asked. "Not for a fortnight at least," and they could only begin when the rain was over, for the danger from loosened soil was not over yet. Our hope of speedy release grew very faint after this doleful news. But next day we heard that we might escape by Italy. This hope was drowned next, by some newspapers which arrived by some hardy messenger, telling us that the rivers our mountains were sending south, had flooded North Italy also. So we found that we must have patience still. There were others in the hotel all anxious to leave, and surely some way would soon be found. But the sun! If only he would appear. The rain did not keep on quite so constantly, and the torrents over the Cortina road were much smaller. At last the sun and stars after many days did appear, and oh the joy, no words can tell what they meant to us. Then came the hope we may start on Monday. Up to this time, our desires to see the Dolomites had quite vanished. Our one idea was to escape! But with |