"In addition to all this, remember something else also. Whatever you give, see that you give it from the heart unto Christ. Not unto me, your Vicar; not unto the Churchwardens; not unto the opinions of your neighbours; not even unto the cause of suffering humanity; but unto Christ. He gave His Life to save the perishing. You are urged to give—not your lives, most of you, though some have been willing to give even their lives—but, a little of your money.
"It may be that some among you will yet give your lives in the effort to rescue drowning men, when the lifeboat has been bought with your help! If so, that is a grand thing to do. It is a grand and a Christ-like thing to die in striving to save. I can hardly call it a grand thing, but only a plain and simple duty, to give what you can towards this crying need. It would be a grander thing to give more than you could well spare—more than you could spare without self-denial and loss—and some of you will perhaps be equal to this effort."
Then the Vicar quoted impressively in his deep voice some simple lines beginning,—
"'Man the lifeboat! man the lifeboat!
Hearts of oak, your succour lend.
See, the shattered vessel staggers!
Quick, oh! quick! assistance send!'"
The congregation was throughout more or less moved by the earnestness and the pathos of the Vicar's appeal. He had himself been foremost in the rescuing work; he had caused the attempt to be made when others were hopeless; he had risked his life, and had suffered long and sorely in consequence; and one in that congregation would never have been there but for him. Mildred's head was bent, and her tears fell, at the thought of those who might have been saved and who had not been saved. Tears were also on Mrs. Groates' cheeks as she recalled her Jack's peril.
[CHAPTER XVII]
MAKING A COLLECTION
THE Vicar was not one who would allow grass to grow under his feet, as the saying is, or who would allow the heated iron to become cold before he struck it. No later than Monday afternoon he set forth upon a round through his parish, subscription list in hand, bent upon getting as many gifts as possible towards the needed lifeboat. He was very much in earnest, very eager in his quest; and, like all subscription collectors, he met with varying success, sometimes receiving more from a quarter where he had expected less, and sometimes receiving less where he had expected more.
The list was headed by ten pounds from himself. This, out of the Vicar's small stipend, after the expenses of his long illness, and considering that he had no private property of his own, meant a great deal more of self-denial than anybody in the Parish was likely to guess,—except indeed his old housekeeper, who "did" for him, with the help of one young girl. But the old housekeeper was no gossip, and Old Maxham was not likely to be the wiser for what she knew.
Mr. Bateson, the doctor, despite his large family, his limited number of paying patients, and his unlimited number of non-paying patients, followed up this donation with another of five pounds; and, to everybody's surprise, Mildred Pattison came forward with a second five-pound note.