"At last the joyful cry of 'He has reached it!' burst from the crowd, and I could myself distinguish the form of young Honey standing on the deck of the stranded vessel. It was but for a few minutes, then again we saw him spring into the billows, one larger than the rest soon landed him at our feet, and many hands grasped him, and many voices welcomed, as we aided his cold dripping fingers to unfasten a rope which he had borne with him from the ship."
"But the unhappy crew were too much exhausted to avail themselves of this slender bridge through the foaming waters. They had been four days without food, as we afterwards learned, and though the rope was firmly secured on shore, in vain we watched in hopes to see one of the sufferers venture upon it. Again young Honey plunged among the breakers, aiding himself by the rope. Again, he gained the vessel, and returned, pale, panting, but not alone! I will not lengthen my tale too much, nor describe how the crew, consisting of six men, were, one by one, safely landed on the beach—a shout of joy welcomed each arrival."
"There now remained but one human being on the sea-washed deck, and to him the student made his way. He was a boy, so helpless that we feared that he never could reach the shore alive! Loud shrieked the wind, and the roaring billow swept over the heads of the two, as they attempted to gain the land! Ha! There is now but one head visible, the exhausted child has been swept from his hold, he has let go the rope—'He is lost! He is lost!' we exclaimed."
"No, for a preserver was near him. Honey, whose philanthropy seemed to endow him with strength superhuman, dived for the boy, and with joy we again beheld them both clinging to the rope! Another tremendous wave—once more the feeble hands have been unable to retain their grasp, once more the student dives, rallying his exhausted powers for one last effort—then what shouts of joy and triumph ring along the shore, as the boy and his deliverer lie gasping on the strand!"
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"O uncle! How glorious!" exclaimed Bella, clasping her hands.
"Is Honey living yet?—May we not see him one day?—Is he living?" cried the children.
"Yes, living, but not on earth. God grant that you may see him where there is no more danger, or suffering, or death! Though Honey survived that terrible day, we have reason to believe that in saving the lives of others, he had sacrificed his own. The seeds of a wasting, fatal malady had been sown in his breast by severe exposure and extreme exertion, and he passed from this world in the prime of his days, a martyr to humanity."
"But come," resumed Mr. Presgrave, after looking around him, and then glancing at his watch. "We must not go to the ladies with weeping eyes, and I see that we may soon expect a summons to the tea-table. We have concluded the stories of our dear little girls, and they have given us much food for reflection. The boys' we will reserve till after tea, when, perhaps, we may be joined by my dear niece and Mrs. Presgrave. But before we leave off, my young friends, let me ask—I would have you ask yourselves—what truths will you carry away with you from these tales, and our conversations over them? What is the honey that you have gathered from the flowers, the profit more enduring than the amusement of an hour?"
The sound of the tea-bell interrupted the old gentleman; his question we will leave to our readers to answer.