FISHERMAN FRED,

OR A GOOD TURN IS NEVER LOST.

(Continued from Vol. VII., p. 306.)

AND now let us see what they are about, and look in upon them after Fred and Barney have spent a day at sea; and we shall find them taking their tea, to make up for the dry crust they have had for dinner. It is five o'clock; the duty of the day is done; and there is nothing to disturb them now. And there is Fred in the chimney corner, and he has had a good haul, and he thinks he should like some cream for a treat; so he gives several hints: but Sue, whose ideas are not so expansive as his own, directs her bright eyes to the milk jug, and quaintly asks him whether that is not good enough. But no, Sue is persuaded out of her prudence, and for once he is to have his desire. Simple Sue! there has never been a good haul since but cream has always appeared on the table. And thus do they spend their evening; Fred master, and she the waiting maid one minute, and next the coquettish wife; or, taking advantage of Fred's being at home, to run out on errands. Their fare is dried fish; the tea-service white china, with a gold stripe. One would expect a less cottage soirée looking set, but they have no children to break what she calls her little comforts; and perhaps it was brought out in honour of their guest, for what I have related of the tea-party was told me by my brother. And they have finished their meal, and Fred can find no new words to beg his little visitor to take something more, and is sadly afraid that the 66 dear young gentleman," as he calls him, does not like the homely brown bread; wishing at the same time that he had something better to set before him, as he hospitably offers him another slice, long before he has finished what he has.

And Barney is deeper than ever, for he does not hear a word of what is passing; and Sue at length turns up her cup, and hints that working people must not sit too long; so the little company break up. Fred draws his chair further from the table, and Sue, gathering with her hands the crumbs that are in her apron, takes the singing kettle from off the hob, and prepares to wash the things; then snuffs the candle, stirs the fire, sweeps up the hearth, -and all this completed, the busy Sue sits her down to work. And while conversing with the little visitor, Fred is not willing to lose his time, or the advantage of the light; that rushlight-looking candle, that so cheerily illuminates their happy home, making, with its sober beams, all seem so contented and so bright. Even from without you could guess that peace was there, as the light flickered through the clean white curtain. That little farthing

candle, lighting such merry hearts, and shining, as the poet says, "like a good deed in this naughty world." And then Sue, if she wanted to fetch anything, would catch up the light, and leave her companions in the dark, save for the blazing fire; and Fred would hint the suspicion that she must think their eyes as bright as her own so to leave him blundering at his work, for Fred amuses himself with mending his nets, and botching up the holes made by the mackerel he has caught in shoals. So he does not complain, for his heart is too happy for that, as he sits near his Sue darning his stockings, with the blue worsted skein hung round her neck; and at the request of the party she sings her favourite song

"A storm arose, the waves ran high,
And dark and murky was the sky,
The waves did loudly roar;
And merry rows the bonnie bark

Which brings him safe to shore."

And Fred looked proud and pleased thus to be loved, and, as he felt, to be made the hero of her song. And no Jenny Lind, it seems, could sing sweeter than Sue did, or excel half so well the country dialect, "the waves ran hoigh!" and then the affected quickness with which she adds, "the bonnie, bonnie bark," appears as though she could not sing quick enough to get her dear Fred home. So did Sue show her devoted affection to one who vowed to love and to cherish her; and faithfully he fulfils his promise. And it is now Fred's turn to sing, but he has not a note in his voice; yet, not to be unaccommodating, he drawls his tune, like a great buzzing bee, or a drowsy humming-top, but they all seem charmed; and so the evening ends. The net is folded up, the stockings finished, and the large Bible is taken down from the shelf and read; thereby to derive instruction and consolation from its pages, and support for this trusting pair through the breakers and rocks of an uncertain world. Every night, when the old kitchen clock points to the hour of nine, Fred's manly voice is heard reading the sacred truths in that large old book. And ofttimes would Sue wonder to herself how she could have brought her husband to this duty at last. Well did she remember the time when even on a Sunday she desired to have the holy Scriptures read, and yet had she been restrained from the idea that Fred would call her serious, or say that going to Church was quite enough, and that there was no necessity of being so righteous overmuch. The Light was bright within her own heart, yet it had not already shone before men; but Sue wished that others could see what comfort she found in good works, though she has too retiring a character to make it known, or to "sound it upon the house top." With GOD nothing is impossible, said the joyful

heart of Sue, as she reached down her treasure from the little green shelf; surprised to think how she could have succeeded, in not only inducing her husband to read a chapter himself on a Sunday, but that even after a hard spent day, when he returned to his home worn and weary, still was he ever ready to raise his own blunt voice, and to gladden her heart with the promise that, "though many were the troubles of the righteous," GOD would support them in all.

Fred could hardly yet comprehend such great truths; he wanted, as it were, the wings of an eagle, to raise his thoughts heavenward; he felt, he knew it to be very good, but he could not spiritually discern such hidden mysteries, while the SPIRIT, giving life instead of the deadness of the letter, pervaded the mind of Sue, and she wished she could impart her thoughts into the heart of Fred, for a greater measure of faith he wanted. But still fresh hopes were kindled in her bosom, when she considered how her prayers had been heard, and that though she had "sown in tears," still was there the bright prospect of her" reaping in joy," even the joy of seeing her loved Fred a sharer in the real peace she had found. And Sue in her solitary moments, when her husband is many miles from shore, looks forward to this time, when she can sit and gaze at him she loves so well, and ponder on his words. Sometimes she will offer to read for him, and much as he liked to hear the sound of his own voice, still is he too polite always to refuse. So then Sue charmed her partner with her dovelike note; stopping in those places where she likes to make any remark, or to spell a hard word to herself, till Fred will help her out. This duty finished, the one door is locked, and they hasten up the steep but short flight of stairs to their neat little bed; their heads repose on their warm pillow, and their voices are no longer heard to one another. "So securely and sweetly do those sleep who go to bed with a quiet conscience; who after a day of faithful industry, in a course of just and pious living, lay down their wearied heads in peace and safety in the bosom of Providence."

There is nothing so cheerful as on a summer's morning, with the sun just rising over the hills, to watch the fishermen on the beach, first arranging their nets, and then with one consent setting off in full sail, quite as if they considered their occupation rather a pleasure than a toil. So bright is the sun, so clear the deep blue sea; and the air so fresh,-so different to what those know it who slumber on with closed curtains till a late hour. All is shining on the beach, and not a window yet open with those who can afford to lose their leisure in thus sleeping on. One would think their easy days would never be too long; yet how few of these favourites of fortune experience what it is to be up at early dawn! They

know not the enjoyment of a few hours before the busy world is astir; and then to walk before breakfast, how much good it does to those who are accustomed to early exercise! how hungry they return, and how above the world they feel all the rest of the day!— so inwardly in advance of those who have shut their eyes to their own interest.

The birds never sing so blithely as they do in the early dawn; even the cock crows with a vigour which, unless angry or victorious, he seldom does for the rest of the day. The cuckoo never cuckoos with such glee, and the loving wood-pigeons respond their note from tree to tree; the pigs grunt with more excitement; the cows are awaiting the dairymaid, who, in her clean cotton dress and white apron, seems to afford them joy ;-in short, there is a halo spread over the early morn which is not perceptible at any other hour. Man is the only creature who consumes in foolish slumber the sweet, precious youth of day; and which, like young hearts, is lighter and brighter than all its course beside. He hears the birds sing, and shuts out the sun; it dare not so much as peep through his curtain, as he turns him again to sleep, like the door on its hinges; and yet his complaint is that there is no time! So he hurries through his day, and does not find out that he has lost the best half of it in slumber.

And what a time this is for prayer, before the busy hours bring with them their various duties! what enjoyment is to be found in the quiet of the early dawn! Sue loved this time; and when her husband was many miles from shore, she would pray that GOD would prosper the work of his hands upon him, and bring him safe to her again; trustful that in the morning as he had sown his seed, so in the evening he might stretch forth his hand and reap a plenteous harvest. Fred did not feel the great necessity of offering up his daily sacrifice of prayer and praise; but even as the desire of the righteous availeth much, so the "unbelieving husband seemed sanctified by his wife." Not that he was unbelieving; but he trusted too much in his own arm and his own strength to gain him the victory. But Fred is to be accounted wise when he takes the wings of the morning, and with his fellow labourers sets sail in their respective boats. Yet he is no doubt loth to leave his pretty Sue, who will not always take the trouble to rise so early, to light the fire and make the kettle boil. So Fred, in his kindness of heart, lets her sleep on, and makes his own coffee; never failing to take up a cup to his idle little wife.

When he is gone and is many miles from shore, and she has put her house in order, then again her daily work begins, and again she goes her daily rounds to dispose of whatever fish may remain unsold. Quick and nimble, and with a simply modest face that helps her trade, she hurries to the beach to await her Fred's return,

watching for him eagerly, and looking for his well known bark; anxious to receive him with his store, be it plenteous or not, and to help among others with the "huge-war-holt!" of pulling up the boat.

The herring and the mackerel season is the harvest of their wealth, and heavily the net is burdened with its bright and shining load, that flounder on the shore, as though trying to live in a new element; the herrings hanging with their gills through the meshes made to ensnare them by Fred in his chimney corner. All the week long they toil, and then on Sundays, dressed in their best, they go to the Church. The jacket and trowsers are of finer cloth; the black hat is substituted for the straw, or Fred's bright red cap; the ample broad ribbon dangling from their shoes. Yet none of them look so picturesque as in their week-day clothes; even Sue is weighed down by her best square shawl, and does not seem so pretty as with her bonnet thrown carelessly on, and the strings flying in the breeze.

And

But it is Sunday, and they feel a happy pride as they walk side by side; she so childlike, and he so young and handsome, so trusting in each other. Sunday is indeed to them a day of rest; for, however the wind may serve, Sue is sure on that day to have her Fred; and they walk upon the beach, and seem pleased to see their boat, "The lovely Susan," as peaceful as themselves. it seems strange that they should choose the beach walk down close to the sea; the hills and the green fields offering more variety, as being far from their every day work. But happily what we do most we love best; farmers and their wives walk in their fields, and Fred and Sue kept near the ocean, in which all their wealth was contained. Would that it were always Sunday, were it only to see this devoted pair so much enjoy their leisure! But then, perhaps, it would cease to have a charm; for all holiday is as bad as all hard work. Wisely was it decreed, "Six days shalt thou labour, and do all that thou hast to do, but the seventh is the Sabbath." Therefore let those who know what toil is remember to hallow this blessed day, set apart from worldly care and trouble, to give the wearied pilgrim a foretaste of that never ending Sabbath in heaven.

The fisherman walks forth in the morning lounging with his children so clean and neatly dressed; the horses must know it is Sunday, as they rejoice without being disturbed in the green grass; the dog resignedly stays at home, never jumping up to go out, as is ever their custom. There is a stillness in the hour, so that we hear the distant bell of the village churches announcing to one and all that it is the day of prayer. Surely with one accord the birds sing more cheerily the heart's melody-may they not also feel that on this day they are safe from snare or gun? How sweetly does