The last verse of this remarkable chapter of Proverbs is peculiarly applicable to the case of Grace Darling--"Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates." No true, and kindly person will begrudge her the praise she received, since she really earned it. She sowed the seeds, and it was only right that she should reap the fruit. And of all the praises that were heaped upon her none equalled the simple unvarnished story of her own deed. To describe her exploit, with no word of comment, was to load her with commendation of the highest kind. And it is well indeed when that can be said of any woman--which is always the case when her life is right. On the whole, even now people get pretty much what they deserve. For a little time an individual may be misunderstood and maligned; but in the long run it will be found that "Ever the right comes uppermost, And ever is justice done." The world is not so unfair as it seems. It is not very quick to read people, but it gets to comprehend them at last, and no one who is really good has to confess that he gets no praise. These seem to be the teachings of Grace Darling's life. If the women of these times will take them to their hearts, and profit by them, the noble lighthouse-girl will do a better and more enduring work now, than when she went out with her father to the wreck of the "Forfarshire." CHAPTER XVIII. CONCLUSION. "Where no shadow shall bewilder, Where life's vain parade is o'er, Where the sleep of sin is broken, And the dreamer dreams no more; Where no bond is ever sundered; Partings, claspings, sob, and moan, Midnight waking, twilight weeping, Heavy noontide--all are done; Where the child has found its mother, Where the mother finds the child, Where dear families are gathered That were scattered on the wild, Brother, we shall meet and rest, 'Mid the holy and the blest."--Bonar. Very little remains to be told, either of Grace Darling or her family. The grief of the latter was of the most poignant kind, when their famous and beloved daughter had really left them. Death creates great desolation for those who are left behind; and the more excellent the deceased has been, the greater is the loss which is felt. But when this world has but been exchanged for a better, there are consolations for the mourners, who feel that the parting is for a little while only, and who look forward to a joyful re-union. "A few more years shall roll, A few more seasons come; And we shall be with those that rest Asleep within the tomb. "Then, O my Lord, prepare My soul for that great day; O wash me in thy precious blood, And take my sins away. "A few more suns shall set O'er these dark hills of time; And we shall be where suns are not, A far serener clime. "A few more storms shall beat On this wild rocky shore; And we shall be where tempests cease, And surges swell no more.