Children’s Story – Page 7

Story – The Way to be Happy

May 13, 2021 by Unknown

A very long time ago, there was a king whose name was Henry.

He lived in a fine house, and he had many servants to wait upon him. He had fine clothes, beautiful horses, strongboxes full of gold, and many ships that sailed upon the sea.

He had everything that anyone could wish for. And yet he was not happy.

In the same country there was a poor miller who had a little mill close by the river Dee.

This miller was busy every hour of the day, and he was as happy as he was busy. People who lived near the mill heard him singing all the time from morning till night.

When anyone asked why he was so happy, he said, “I have all that I need, and I do not wish for more.”

One day the king was in great trouble. “Tell me,” he said, “if there is one happy man in all this land.”

His friends said, “We have heard that there is one such man. He is a miller, and he lives by the river Dee.”

“I must see this miller of the Dee,” said the king. “I will learn from him how to be happy.”

The very next day King Henry rode down to the river Dee. He stopped his horse at the door of the little mill. He could hear the miller singing at his work:

“I envy nobody; no, not I,

And nobody envies me.”

The king went into the mill. He said to the miller, “You are wrong, my friend; for I envy you. I would give all that I have if I could be as happy as you.”

The miller said, “I will help you to be happy if I can.”

“Then tell me,” said the king, “why it is that you can sing this song in your little mill on the Dee, while I, who am king of all the land, am sad every day of my life?”

The miller smiled and said, “This is why I am happy in my little mill: I trust in God each day. I work, and earn my food. I love my wife and children, and I love my friends. I owe no man, and the good river Dee turns the mill that grinds the corn to feed my family and me.”

The king turned sadly away. “Good-by, my friend,” he said. “Be happy while you may. I would rather be the miller of the Dee than king of all this land.”

“So would I,” said the happy miller.

The miller was happy because he trusted in God, he had good friends, he owed no man, and he did not wish for things which he could not have.

The king was not happy for he knew that men did not love him, and he was never content with what he had. He did not have God’s love in his heart.

“Happy is that people, whose God is the Lord” (Psalm 144:15).

Story – The Fence Story

May 4, 2021 by Storytime Treasury

A man who prided himself on his morality, and expected to be saved by it, was constantly saying, “I am doing pretty well on the whole. I sometimes get mad and swear, but then I am strictly honest. I work on Sabbath when I am particularly busy, but I give a good deal to the poor, and I never was drunk in my life.”

This man hired a wise Scotsman to build a fence around his lot. He gave him very particular directions. In the evening, when the Scotsman came in from his work, the man said, “Well, Jock, is the fence built, and is it tight and strong?”

“I canna say that it is all tight and strong,” replied Jock, “but it is a good average fence, anyhow. If some parts are a little weak, others are extra strong. I don’t know, but I may have left a gap here and there, a yard wide, or so; but then I made up for it by doubling the number of rails on each side of the gap. I dare say that the cattle will find it a very good fence, on the whole, and will like it; though I canna just say that it’s perfect in every part.”

“What!” cried the man, not seeing the point. “Do you tell me that you have built a fence around my lot with weak places in it, and gaps in it? Why, you might as well have built no fence at all. If there is one opening, or a place where an opening can be made, the cattle will be sure to find it, and will go through. Don’t you know, man, that a fence must be perfect, or it is worthless?”

“I used to think so,” said the dry Scotsman, “but I hear you talk so much about averaging matters with the Lord it seems to me we might try it with the cattle. If an average fence won’t do for them, I am afraid an average character won’t do for you in the day of judgment.

“When I was on shipboard, and a storm was driving us on the rocks, the captain cried: ‘Let go the anchor!’ but the mate shouted back: ‘There is a broken link in the cable.’ Did the captain say when he heard that: ‘No matter, it’s only one link. The rest of the chain is good. Ninety-nine of the hundred links are strong. Its average is high. It only lacks one percent of being perfect. Surely the anchor ought to respect so excellent a chain, and not break away from it?’ No, indeed, he shouted, ‘Get another chain!’

“He knew that a chain with one broken link was no chain at all. That he might as well throw the anchor overboard without any cable, as with a defective one. So with the anchor of our souls. If there is the least flaw in the cable, it is not safe to trust it. We had better throw it away and try to get a new one that we know is perfect.”

Story – Alfred the Great

February 28, 2021 by John W. Wayland

Once there was in England a good king named Alfred. He was so brave and wise and did so many fine things for his people that he is always called Alfred the Great.

When Alfred was a little boy, his mother used to teach him from the wonderful book known as the Bible. She had five sons, Alfred being the youngest. One day she called the five boys to her and showed them the Holy Bible. She said:

“I’ll give this book to the one of you that learns to read it first.”

The five young princes began to study hard. They studied one reading lesson after another, as fast as they could. The Bible was a fine prize, and each one of them was anxious to win it.

Not very long afterwards, one of the boys came to his mother and said, “Mother, I believe that I can read the book now.” And sure enough, when she gave him a test, he could read it; and he received it as a prize.

Now, which of the five princes do you think it was who won the prize?

Yes, it was Alfred, the youngest of the five. He won the beautiful book, and he loved books all his life.

While Alfred was king, the Danes were fighting his people – the English. The Danes were strong, fierce people who came in boats from another country. They wanted to live in England, and they tried to rob and kill Alfred’s people.

King Alfred had a hard time fighting the Danes, but at last he won in one or two battles and made them stay in one part of the country by themselves. He drew a long line between his people and the Danes and would not allow the Danes to cross the line.

Alfred trained his men to be good soldiers. At the same time, he allowed some of them to stay on their farms all the time in order that plenty of food might be produced for everybody.

King Alfred also had his men build ships. In time of war the ships were used to carry soldiers, and all the time they were used to carry food and other things that the people needed.

All his life Alfred the Great loved books. He loved books so much that he wanted all of his people to have books, and he wanted every boy (maybe every girl, too) to learn to read.

So King Alfred built schoolhouses and hired school teachers. He gathered together many good books and many good teachers. But as long as he lived there was one book that he always loved best: it was the Bible – the book he had first learned to read.

Story – The Wanderer’s Prayer

February 1, 2021 by Earnest Lloyd

On a cold, dreary evening in autumn, a small boy, poorly clad, yet cleanly and tidy, with a pack upon his back, knocked at the door of an old Quaker and inquired, “Is Mr. Lanman at home?”

“Yes.”

The boy wished to see him, and was speedily ushered into the host’s presence.

Friend Lanman was one of the wealthiest men in the country, and President of the railroad. The boy had come to see if he could obtain a situation [job] on the road. He said that he was an orphan—his mother had been dead only two months, and he was now a homeless wanderer. But the lad was too small for the filling of any place within the Quaker’s gift [employment], and he was forced to deny him. Still he liked the looks of the boy, and said to him:

“You may stop in my house tonight, and tomorrow I will give the names of two or three good men of Philadelphia, to whom you may apply with assurance of kind reception at least. I am sorry that I have no employment for you.”

Later in the evening the old Quaker went the rounds of his spacious mansion, lantern in hand, as was his custom, to see that all was safe, before retiring for the night. As he passed the door of the little chamber where the poor, wandering orphan had been placed to sleep, he heard a voice. He stopped and listened, and distinguished the tones of a simple, earnest prayer. He bent his ear nearer, and heard these words from the boy’s lips:

“Oh, good Father in heaven! help me to help myself. Watch over me as I watch over my own conduct, and care for me as my deeds merit! Bless the good man in whose house I am sheltered for the night, and spare him long, that he may continue sharing his bounty to the suffering ones. Amen.”

And the Quaker responded another amen as he moved on; and as he went, he meditated. The boy has a true idea of the duties of life. I verily think that the lad will be a treasure to his employer, he concluded.

When the morning came, the old Quaker changed his mind concerning his answer to the boy’s application.

“Who taught you to pray?” inquired Friend Lanman.

“My mother, sir,” was the soft reply. And the rich brown eyes grew moist.

“And you will not forget your mother’s counsels?”

“I cannot, for I know that my success in life is dependent upon them.”
“My boy, you may stay here in my house, and very soon I will take you to my office.”

Friend Lanman lived to see the poor boy he had adopted rise step by step until he finally assumed the responsible office which the failing guardian could no longer hold. And today there is no man more honored and respected by his friends, and none more feared by gamblers and spectators in irresponsible stock, than is the once poor wanderer—now president of the best managed and most productive railway in the United States.

Children’s Story – Trust in the Lord

December 29, 2020 by Joel R. Beeke and Diana Kleynm

Looking up anxiously at his mother, Bobby pleaded earnestly. “Don’t cry, Mommy.”

“Bobby, we are in trouble,” answered his mother. “Daddy has left us, and he said he’ll never come back!”

Mrs. Smith’s tears fell over the baby she was nursing. She had five children younger than Bobby, who was eight. Their father, who had been out of work for some time, had just deserted them. What was she to do? They were so poor! Who would look after them?

“Mommy,” said Bobby, “that’s very bad news, but God knows our trouble. He will help us when we pray to Him. I heard a Bible story about God helping a poor widow with her boys.”

“But He doesn’t love me, Bobby,” sighed his mother. “I’m not as good as I ought to be, and I’ve not thought much about Him. No, he doesn’t love me,” she finished sadly.

“The Lord is so good. He has been good to us all the time!” answered Bobby eagerly. “When Emmie is naughty and stays out playing instead of coming in to bed when you call—you still love her, don’t you?”

“Yes, but that’s different,” said Mrs. Smith, “and you’ll see He won’t help me now when I’m in such trouble.”

“He will if we ask Him!” cried Bobby confidently: “It’s in the Bible! We learned it in Sabbath School. ‘Ask, and it shall be given you. If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask Him’ (Matthew 7:7, 11)? Mother, let’s ask Him right now.”

“Well, all right,” said Mrs. Smith, wiping her eyes on her apron.

Calling his brothers and sisters together, Bobby made them all kneel down with clasped hands. Then he and his mother knelt too. “Now, Mother, pray,” Bobby whispered. But Mrs. Smith could not say a word. She felt as if there were a great lump in her throat. It was long ago that she had tried to pray.

So Bobby prayed. “God, Daddy’s left us. Make him come home. Help me and Mommy to earn money and get food for the children for Jesus’ sake. Amen.”

Mrs. Smith and the children said, “Amen.” And the children jumped up, eager to do something else. Bobby rose too, looking very serious. “Mommy,” he said, “my teacher says we must do our best and work hard. I must work as well as pray.”

“But Bobby, what could you do?” asked his mother.

“I can sell matchboxes or newspapers,” he answered eagerly.

“The streets?” exclaimed Mrs. Smith. “Oh my boy, I’ve always tried to keep you off of the streets!”

“God is everywhere, Mommy. Isn’t He in the streets, too?” asked Bobby, wonderingly.

“Yes, of course He is. Well, we have no choice, so you must work in the streets. I have just two coins left, Bobby. You may take one and see what you can do.” Mrs. Smith sighed in helpless frustration as she watched her young son set out to look for work.

Bobby, on the other hand, was delighted. A friend of his sold newspapers, and could make forty-four cents in one night by selling newspapers in the streets.

Bobby had a clear voice, and it seemed to carry everywhere as he walked proudly along, singing out the name of the newspaper like the other newsboys. Evening after evening he earned money in this way for his mother.

Each evening, before leaving for work, Bobby gathered his mother, brothers, and sisters around him. He would read the Bible and recite the texts he had learned in Sabbath School. Then he would ask God for His help and protection. He also prayed that God would save their father and return him to them.

All went well until one evening, when the rain came down in torrents. Mrs. Smith wanted to keep Bobby home, but she desperately needed the money so she reluctantly let him go out.

He came back soaked and chilled. Mrs. Smith hurried him to bed. He became very hot, and mumbled in his sleep. The next day he was worse, and could not even lift his head from the pillow. The following night his mother sat up with him, for he seemed barely conscious.

During the long, quiet night, Mrs. Smith thought about the stories and texts Bobby had learned in his Sabbath School classes, and she prayed to the great Heavenly Doctor to heal her boy and return him to her.

In the early morning Bobby opened his eyes, and recognized his mother. But his first words were, “Mommy, do I hear Daddy?”

Mrs. Smith looked up in amazement to see her husband entering the room.

“Hester,” he said to his wife. “I’m very sorry I’ve been such a bad husband to you. But I’m a changed man now, by the grace of God. And what’s more, I’ve found a very good job, thanks be to God. But what’s this? Is Bobby ill?”

“Bobby will get well now,” exclaimed Mrs. Smith. “Let’s thank God for it.”

Husband and wife knelt together beside Bobby’s bed, and with trembling voices thanked Him for His goodness.

Children’s Story – Three Gifts

December 15, 2020 by John W. Wayland

Three beautiful Christmas gifts were given to a baby boy, nearly two thousand years ago. He was just a little baby, and He was in a stable.

I’m sure you think that a stable is an odd place for a little baby to be, so I’ll tell you why this baby was in a stable.

His parents were away from home. They were at a town called Bethlehem. There was no room for them in the hotel, so they had to find lodging somewhere else. They looked here and there, but the only place they could find was a corner in a stable. There they had to stay for several days.

This baby boy’s gifts were carried to Him by some grown-up men. They were wise men. The wise men traveled a long, long way to get to Bethlehem. They had never seen the little Child, and they did not know just where He was; but they were led to Him by a bright star.

And they knew that the baby boy was a king!

As they went along the road, they could not always see the star. Once in a while they would ask somebody where the little King was. They would say:

“Where is He that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen His star in the East, and are come to worship Him.”

But for a long time, nobody could tell them where the baby King was located.

After a while they came to a city that is only five or six miles from Bethlehem. There they stopped and asked the question again:

“Where is He that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen His star in the East, and are come to worship Him.”

And somebody said, “In Bethlehem.”

Then the wise men set out for Bethlehem; and as soon as they did that, they saw the star again. It showed them just where to go.

When the wise men saw the baby King, they bowed down low before Him, and worshiped Him. Then they gave Him the three gifts that they had brought for Him.

And what do you think those three gifts were?

One was gold. I do not know how much gold there was in the gift, or just what the shape of it was; but it was gold – beautiful, precious, shining gold.

Another gift was frankincense. This is something that has a very sweet odor; it is also very precious – perhaps just as precious as gold.

The third gift was myrrh. Myrrh also has a sweet odor and it is a good medicine. It is good to heal sick people and help make them well.

All these gifts were very precious. They were just the kinds of gifts for a king. The wise men brought them to little King Jesus.

Children’s Story – Thanksgiving Day

November 2, 2020 by John W. Wayland

Every year, for many years, the good people of our land have kept Thanksgiving Day. It comes in the month of November, after the corn, the apples, and the pumpkins are gathered, and after the farmers have cut a pile of wood big enough to last all winter.

By that time, too, the boys and girls who live in the country have had a chance to gather the hickory nuts and walnuts, and the squirrels out in the woods have filled the hollow trees with nuts and acorns.

Then people remember that God has been very good. He has sent the rain and the sunshine, and has made the corn and the apples and the nuts grow. So, we have Thanksgiving Day.

Sometimes a snow comes around Thanksgiving time. Then we may remember the little birds, and put out something for them to eat. We ought also to remember poor people and try to make them happy.

Do you know why they had pumpkin pies at the first Thanksgiving, long ago?

It was because they had no apples. So they took the big orange pumpkins and made pies of them. Now we have had pumpkin pies at Thanksgiving so many times that we do not want to do without them.

The first Thanksgiving was at a place called Plymouth. For almost a year the people there had been very hungry. But God heard their prayers. One day two strangers called Samoset and Squanto visited the settlement. They were native Indians who lived on the land. They taught the settlers how to grow food on their new soil. So the pilgrims made new friends and learned how to grow food in their new home. With the help of Squanto and the other members of his tribe, by the end of the season the Pilgrims had an abundant harvest.

To celebrate the harvest, the Pilgrims invited the Indian tribes to the feast. The Indians helped the settlers hunt for the feast. And a large feast of corn, roasted meat, pumpkin pie, and fruits was shared. The Pilgrims dedicated this day to getting together with friends and family and thanking God for the abundance of good food and for those they love.

And so began the tradition of Thanksgiving.

Night and morn

Shocks of corn

Stood ‘round Plymouth Town;

Then freeze

Nipped the trees

And the nuts came down.

Late that fall

Indians tall

Came to Plymouth Town,

There to eat

Corn bread sweet

And turkey roasted brown.

All the men

Quickly then

To the feast sat down;

Three whole days

Thanks and praise

Rose to God on high.

Story – Julia’s Missionary Money

October 5, 2020 by Olive Vincent Marsh

Once upon a time there lived a little girl in a town in New York State. I know that she was a bright and happy and delightful little girl, because now that she is growing old, she is bright and happy and delightful.

She lived with her father and her mother and brothers in a real old-fashioned, homey home where guests liked to come. One of the guests who liked to come was the great Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States. The little girl was always very happy when he came. She used to like to sit close and talk to him. She called him “Uncle Abe.” He often called her “Sissy,” though her real name was Julia.

One time when the President was visiting at Julia’s home, the family were all gathered in the sitting room in the evening. Julia was counting the money in her missionary box. Mr. Lincoln watched her.

“What are you doing over there?” he asked.

“I’m counting my missionary money, Uncle Abe,” Julia answered.

Mr. Lincoln put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a coin, and held it toward Julia. Julia drew her box back.

“Oh, no, I can’t take that, Uncle Abe. I have to earn all the money I put in this box,” she said earnestly.

“Is that so?” said Mr. Lincoln, thoughtfully. Then he put his hand back into his pocket.

The next day he was getting ready to start for the train.

“I wonder if you couldn’t walk down to the depot with me, Julia?” he said.

“Oh, yes, I’d love to!” cried Julia, and she ran for her hat.

As they started down the street together, Abraham Lincoln changed his valise [a small traveling bag] to the other hand. It was an old-fashioned valise with two handles. As he looked down from his great height at his little companion, he asked, “Do you suppose that you could help me carry my valise? It’s pretty heavy.”

Julia was a little surprised, for Mr. Lincoln had never before asked her to help him carry his valise. But she took hold of one of the handles, and they carried it between them all the way to the depot, talking gayly as they went. At the depot the President took the valise and pulled a shining coin out of his pocket, holding it out to the little girl.

“There, Julia,” he said, “now you have earned your missionary money.”

Julia was much surprised, for she had not thought of such a thing as earning money by helping her friend carry his valise. But she saw that she really had earned it.

“Oh, thank you, Uncle Abe!” she exclaimed joyfully.

Then he went away on the train, and Julia ran home with the shining coin held tightly in her hand. She thought it was the very brightest penny she had ever seen. She hurried to put it into her missionary box, where it would be safe.

The next week, when the missionary boxes were opened, Julia was called out into another room. There sat the superintendent, and there were her father and one of her brothers. And there on the table was her missionary box. Everyone looked sober.

“How much money did you have in your missionary box, Julia?” asked the superintendent.

“Eighty-two cents,” answered the little girl.

“I knew it was a mistake. It is not her box,” said her father.

“Are you sure that was all you had? Where did this come from?” she was asked, and she saw the bright penny that the President had given her.

“Oh, that’s the money Uncle Abe gave me!” she answered.

The shining coin was a five-dollar gold piece.

This is a true story. I know it is true, because the little girl, who is a little girl no longer, told me the story herself.

Cockleshells, True Education Series, Olive Vincent Marsh, 16–19.

Story – I Will Rebuke the Devourer

August 31, 2020 by Pearl Tolhurst

Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse. … And I will rebuke the devourer for your sakes” (Malachi 3:10, first part, 11, first part). When I read these words, I can say, “Amen. Truly the Lord’s promises are sure.”

Way in the northeast corner of the little southern state of Australia proper, four miles from the town, lived a Sabbath-keeping family. Loving the Lord and this message whole-heartedly, they strove to live up to all the light that shone from the pages of God’s word, and endeavored to return to the Lord His own in tithes and offerings. We children were taught to keep count of our pennies, and when we had ten, to give one to the Lord.

The story I am going to tell belongs to the summer of 1899. The season was well worthy of its name, for each day the sun’s rays seemed to send out, if possible, a fiercer heat. Slowly life and energy seemed to be leaving us. Stock died, and everything was in a parched, dried-up condition.

Our home was surrounded by bush land, and along the southern boundary flowed a clear-water creek.

Away to the southeast, portions of the Australian Alps could be seen. In summer these often appeared a combination of smoke and flame, for bush fires were prevalent in those parts; while in the winter they put on a cap of snowy purity. This summer bush fires were raging in many places.

Christmas was approaching—a time in childish minds associated with nothing but joy and happiness. For many weeks we had been surrounded by a thick wall of smoke, sometimes close at hand, sometimes farther away. At first this caused some anxiety, but gradually that died away. Several times Father had been called out to fight fires that had started a short distance away, but that, too, had grown to be a common occurrence.

At last word reached us that a fierce bush fire was raging some miles away, and was traveling in our direction. The wall of smoke grew denser, and at times we were unable to see more than a chain from the house. It was Sabbath, the day before Christmas, and it seemed impossible for the sun to send out greater heat. We children dispensed with as much clothing as possible, and endeavored to keep still and quiet. A fire had started about three miles from our home, and Father had gone away early that morning to assist in an endeavor to check it.

The smoke all around seemed to thicken, and between twelve and one o’clock Mother sent one of the boys to a neighbor to inquire whether he thought there was any possibility of the large bush fire reaching us. He came back with the assurance that the fire was miles away, and going in another direction. That was comforting, to say the least; for what could two women, with six children to protect, do against this terrible scourge?

Mother said that when one of the boys had had something to eat, he was to take some refreshment to Father. When he had finished his dinner, he went out to get his pony, but rushed back almost immediately with the cry, “The fire’s in our paddock [small enclosure to keep horses]!” Mother went out, and there, not more than two hundred yards from the house, was the awful fire fiend sending out tongues of flame in every direction, and licking up all in its path. The large fire had reached us! What was to be done? To combine rapidity of action with presence of mind was absolutely necessary. Mother gathered us around her, and for a moment knelt in prayer, committing us to the care of our heavenly Father, who is all-powerful.

Blankets were snatched and wrapped around the three little ones, as a protection against sparks, and they were given into the care of us three older ones, the eldest but sixteen. The next question was where to go. One of our paddocks had been almost completely cleared of timber, and that was the first place thought of; but on second thought it was decided that the creek would be the safest place.

Mother sent us ahead, for she had to help Grandma, who had more than reached her allotted span of life. When a short distance away, I looked back and saw that the stables and barn were alight. We hastened on while sparks flew over and around us and lighted trees on the other side of our path. After reaching the creek, we waited for Mother, and then we all went to a neighbor’s [house] across the creek.

Where was Father all this time? Those at the other fire found they were unable to check its fury, and seeing smoke coming from the direction of their own homes, turned toward them. Being unable to reach home by the usual route, Father had to make a circuit of about three miles. When he reached the homestead, everything around it was blackened, but the house stood firm, a monument to the truthfulness of God’s word.

Right through the apiary of one hundred hives the fire had swept, but only one hive was destroyed. No human hand had been there to check the progress of the flames, and nothing but the interposition of God through His angels could have done so.

We went home in the evening, and the most eloquent language would fail to portray the solemn grandeur of the scene. As the shadows deepened, the red glare in the heavens, the flaming trees, and the millions of sparks that were sent skyward, equaled the finest display of fireworks. Next day the three horses were found still huddled in a corner of one of the paddocks, where they had stood with their heads to the fire. How close the devourer came to them may be judged from the fact that the animals’ noses were scorched.

The neighbors on either side of us lost their homes; in the same district two or three lost their lives, while our losses were comparatively slight. Truly the God that now lives is the same God that led His people out of Egypt and through the wilderness to the Promised Land, and still He cares for and leads His children in this wilderness of sin, and if we trust Him He will bring us through to the Promised Land.

“Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, … and prove Me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it” (Malachi 3:10).

The Youth’s Instructor, February 29, 1916, Pearl Tolhurst, 11, 12.

Children’s Story – Keeper of the Light

July 31, 2020 by Ellen G White

Mary’s father was the keeper of a lighthouse on the coast of England. The light of these lamps shines at night to guide ships on their way and to keep them from dangerous rocks and shoals. The lighthouse seems to say: “Take care, sailors, for rocks and sands are here. Keep a good lookout and mind how you sail, or you will be lost.”

One afternoon Mary was in the lighthouse alone. Mary’s father had trimmed the lamps, and they were ready for lighting when evening came. As he needed to buy some food, he crossed the causeway which led to the land. This causeway was a path over the rocks and sands, which could be used only two or three hours in the day; at other times, the waters rose and covered it. The father intended to hasten home before the tide flowed over this path. Night was coming on, and a storm was rising on the sea. Waves dashed against the rocks, and the wind moaned around the tower.

Mary’s mother was dead, and although she was alone, her father had told the girl not to be afraid, for he would soon return. Now there were some rough-looking men behind a rock, who were watching Mary’s father. They watched him go to the land.

Who were they? They were “wreckers” who lurked about the coast. If a vessel was driven on the rocks by a storm, they rushed down—not to help the sailors, but to rob them, and to plunder the ship.

The wicked men knew that a little girl was left alone in the lighthouse. They planned to keep her father on the shore all night. Ships filled with rich goods were expected to pass the point before the morning and these men knew if the light did not shine, the vessels would run upon the rocks and be wrecked. How cruel and wicked they were to seek the death of the ships’ crews!

Mary’s father had filled his basket, and prepared to return to the lighthouse. As he drew near the road leading to the causeway, the wreckers rushed from their hiding place and threw him on the ground. They quickly bound his hands and feet with ropes and carried him into a shed, where he had to lie until morning. It was in vain that he shouted for them to set him free; they only mocked his distress. They then left him in the charge of two men, while they ran back to the shore.

“Oh, Mary, what will you do?” cried the father as he lay in the shed. “There will be no one to light the lamps. Ships may be wrecked, and sailors may be lost.”

Mary looked from a narrow window toward the shore, thinking it was time for her father to return. When the clock in the little room struck six, she knew that the water would soon be over the causeway.

An hour passed. The clock struck seven, and Mary still looked toward the beach; but her father was not to be seen. By the time it was eight, the tide was nearly over the causeway; only bits of rock here and there were above the water. “O father, hurry,” cried Mary, as though her father could hear her. “Have you forgotten your little girl?” But the only answer was the noise of the waters as they rose higher and higher, and the roar of the wind as it gave notice of the coming storm. Surely there would be no lights that night.

Mary thought of what her mother used to say: “We should pray in every time of need.” Quickly she knelt and prayed for help: “O Lord, show me what to do, and bless my father, and bring him home safe.”

The water was now over the causeway. The sun had set more than an hour ago, and, as the moon rose, black storm clouds covered it from sight.

The wreckers walked along the shore, looking for some ship to strike on the coast. They hoped that the sailors, not seeing the lights, would think they were far at sea.

At this moment Mary decided she would try to light the lamps. But what could a little girl do? The lamps were far above her reach. She got matches and carried a small stepladder to the spot. After much labor she found that the lamps were still above her head. Then she got a small table and put the stepladder on it. But when she climbed to the top the lights were still beyond her reach. “If I had a stick,” she said, “I would tie a match to it, and then I could set a light to the wicks.” But no stick was to be found.

The storm was raging with almost hurricane force. The sailors at sea looked along the coast for the light. Where could it be? Had they sailed in the wrong direction? They were lost and knew not which way to steer.

All this time Mary’s father was praying that God would take care of His child in the dark and lonely lighthouse.

Mary, frightened and lonely, was about to sit down again, when she thought of an old book in the room below. It was a special book that belonged to her mother. She questioned, “If Mother were here, would she not allow me to take it?”

In a moment the large book was brought and placed under the steps, and up she climbed once more. Yes, she was high enough! She touched one wick, then another, and another, until the rays of the lamps shone brightly far above the dark waters.

The father saw the light as he lay in the shed, and thanked God for sending help in the hour of danger. The sailors saw the light, and steered their ships away from the rocks. The wreckers, too, saw the light, and were angry to see that their evil plot had failed.

All that stormy night the lamps cast their rays over the foaming sea; and when the morning came, the father escaped from the shed. Soon he reached the lighthouse and found out how his little girl had stood faithful to duty in the dark hours of storm.