There are many lighthouses along our coasts, and the keepers live in them. They have great responsibilities. They suffer many hardships, and sometimes even lose their lives in discharge of their duties.
In one of the large lighthouses along the coast of Maine there lived an old gray-haired man with his little granddaughter, Jane. The keeper was very old and at times very feeble. Jane was the orphan child of his own daughter, and he loved her very much. They often thought and talked of the brave sailors out on the open sea, whom they protected by sending out the bright rays from the great light which shone high up in the tower. The sailors looked for this light and depended on it to help them reach shore.
Jane’s grandfather was a faithful old keeper of the light, and had never failed to have the welcome beams shine out far into the darkness of the ocean. Night after night he would climb to the top of the tower with his lantern and light the great light. Sometimes Jane carried the lantern to help her grandfather.
Many happy years were passed in the old lighthouse, and the old man was growing more and more feeble. He climbed the steps more slowly each day; his hand trembled sometimes as he reached for the light, but still he was faithful to his duty.
There came a night when he could go no more; he was broken down and ill. He could only lie still and think of the dark tower and the unlighted lantern. Outside a storm was raging. He thought of the sailors on the wild waters fighting against the furious storm, but he could not give them the light that they needed so much.
Little Jane saw her grandfather’s distress. She, too, had learned to love the men of the sea, and knew that the brave sailors would be lost if the light was not there. She went to the foot of the stairs and looked up the dark passageway. She could hear the wind howling and the rain beating against the tower. Terror was in her little heart. Could she go up alone? Could she light the great lantern without her grandfather’s help? Then she caught a vision of the helpless ones outside.
Up and up she climbed. It was cold and dark, yet she went on. Finally the top was reached, but how was she to lift the great wick? She pushed hard, and something seemed to give her strength. Slowly the wick swung back. Quickly she touched the match, then the great light shone forth over the sea giving help to the souls who would have otherwise perished in the waves.
When she came down and told her grandfather she had lighted the lamp, he patted her on the head and said: “You are a brave girl, and have perhaps saved many lives this night.”