Do you remember how frightened all in the boat were before they knew that it was the Lord? They cried out for fear; and in answer to their cry they heard their Master's own voice talking with them, and saying, "Be of good cheer: it is I; be not afraid." Ah, what a change was there! "Sorrow can never be-- Darkness must fly, When saith the Light of light, 'Peace; it is I.'" And now, before we come to the end of this "world of water" chapter, listen to a wonderful story of the sea, told by the only one who could tell it--the heroine of the tale. Look at the map of Scotland, and you will find its most northerly county, Shetland of the Hundred Isles, lying between the Atlantic Ocean and the North Sea. Perhaps you know this part of the world mostly in connection with the pretty little shaggy Shetland ponies which feed upon the young heather, and are brought to England for children to ride; but those who have visited it can tell very interesting stories about the wild country, with its warm-hearted kindly fisher-folk, and they often bring home with them beautiful shawls which the women and girls knit from the soft wool of their sheep. They tell us that of the hundred islands, about thirty are inhabited. Some are large, but others so small that only one or two families live upon them; and others are little more than rocks--the home of sea-fowl of every wing. In the largest island you will soon find Lerwick, the chief town. Now look to the very south for the lofty cliff called Sumburgh Head, and near it Grutness Harbour, where they catch the grey fish. It was from this harbour that a small vessel, the _Columbine_, set sail on Saturday, January 30th, 1886, intending to make the voyage--rough at all times, but often very perilous in winter--along the coast to Lerwick. Many a boat had perished on these cruel shores, even since lighthouses have been placed to warn the seamen from the most dangerous rocks. If you had asked the captain of the _Columbine_ about his route, he would have told you that he must steer past Cape Noness, then close to the Isle of Mousa, with its ancient castle built in the time of the Picts; Bressay Island would next come in sight, and then the tall lighthouse which guards Lerwick Harbour. He might have told you, too, that upon that January morning he was starting with only one passenger on board--an elderly woman who was leaving her home in the south of the island to go and see a doctor at Lerwick, as she had been ill for some months.