She was drawn ashore by the rope, and thus her long voyage to Norway ended. She found herself among strangers truly, who spoke a tongue unknown to her, but was kindly cared for at a farm-house, until she was sufficiently recovered to be sent home to Shetland, where she received a letter which must have, indeed surprised and pleased her. It was from our gracious Queen, and contained a present for Elizabeth of twenty pounds. I am sure you will like to read the letter, so here it is: "WINDSOR CASTLE, _March 27th_, 1886. "The Queen has been much touched by the account of the sufferings of Miss Mouat, and was pleased to learn, by her brother's letter of the 20th, that she is recovering her strength." [Illustration: WINDSOR CASTLE.] Do you not think Elizabeth must be very proud and pleased to show the Queen's letter to those who ask her about her voyage to Norway? A Norwegian gentleman, writing about the place where the dismasted, unpiloted vessel drifted ashore, says: "Had not the _Columbine_ been steered by an invisible but almighty Hand, she would never have got clear of the thousands of rocks. So furious was the storm that all the boats not taken ashore went down at their moorings; and yet the _Columbine_ escaped the network of rocks and skerries, and picked out the only place where she could have beached!" Elizabeth did not see the Lord Jesus walking upon the waves, and drawing near to her in the dark night, as the disciples did; but surely she heard His voice through the storm, hushing her spirit, and saying to her, as He did to them, "It is I; be not afraid." I know a little girl, older than Sharley or May, who is fond of repeating a beautiful poem about the storm on the Lake of Galilee. Perhaps you would like to learn it for your next hymn. It is called "TO YONDER SIDE." "Behind the hills of Naphtali The sun went slowly down, Leaving on mountain, tower, and tree A tinge of golden brown. "The cooling breath of evening woke The waves of Galilee, Till on the shore the waters broke In softest melody. "'Now launch the bark,' the Saviour cried; The chosen Twelve stood by; 'And let us cross to yonder side, Where the hills are steep and high.' "Gently the bark o'er the waters creeps, While the swelling sail they spread; And the wearied Saviour gently sleeps, With a pillow 'neath His head. "On downy bed the world seeks rest; Sleep flies the guilty eye; But he who leans on the Father's breast, May sleep when storms are nigh. "But soon the lowering sky grew dark O'er Bashan's rocky brow; The storm rushed down upon the bark, And waves dashed o'er the prow. "The pale disciples trembling spake, While yawned the watery grave; 'We perish, Master--Master, wake; Carest Thou not to save?' "Calmly He rose with sovereign will, And hushed the storm to rest; 'Ye waves,' He whispered, 'Peace, be still!' They calmed like a pardoned breast.