THE BARK AND THE LIGHTSHIP.
A BARK on her outward voyage passed the lightship moored on a shoal that lay in the track of vessels near the coast. Said the bark as she sailed by:
“Here you are still, held fast by your chain, for ever tossing and uncomfortable, but making no headway, or profits, either.”
“True,” replied the lightship. “Yet this is my appointed work. I am no idler.”
Long months rolled around; the bark had crossed the ocean, and was on her homeward voyage. She neared the land in stormy weather. Night came on, and the lead, though it was kept going, failed to show just where she was drifting. Then anxious fears arose, and were growing each moment more intense, when suddenly a bright flash gleamed through the darkness. It was the lightship, giving warning of the shoal and pointing out the deeper channel.
Once more the vessels lay side by side.
“You have saved me,” cried the bark, “and the rich cargo that I carry. Now I understand why you seek not selfish profits, and most gladly, out of gratitude, will I share mine with you.”
“Oh no,” replied the lightship; “you have sailed over perilous seas to gain them, and they justly belong to you. That is your calling; and the greater your gains, the better am I pleased. But my calling is to lie here and do what good I can. For this I receive wages sufficient for my need, and with them I am content.”
While some men devote their lives to business and accumulate fortunes—properly and honestly, it may be—others devote theirs to the good of their fellow-men, knowing they will receive in return a bare living, and nothing more.