FISHERMAN FRED,

OR A GOOD TURN IS NEVER LOST.

(Concluded from p. 44.)

WHEN Fred came back to Sue, he said, "I'm bothered if ever I knew it rougher !" and he pressed her in his arms, and she asked, "What ails thee, Fred ?" for she never saw him so subdued. Sue had been spared the fright; for, busy in her little cottage, humming every now and then snatches of her favourite song, "And bring him safe to me"-the wind howled down the chimney, or the large trees creaked in the old churchyard, unheeded by her. She was quiet, making her home comfortable, never dreaming of the squall; and the little laughing woman was ready on the threshold to greet him home, and to wonder over and over again how she had never minded the change of weather, or even suspected the worst!

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And happy was Fred in having chosen her for his bride before the many fairer maidens of the village; yet is there a look in her face beyond beauty, -an earnest look,-a contraction of the corner of her eyes, seeming so kindly intent upon what she has said. This happy manner and modest worth was her dower, for she had nothing else; and once, when a brother fisherman married one with a few pounds, Fred looked at Sue and said, "I wish you had brought me a fortune of ten guineas, to help me to provide lobster pots:" she meekly replied, "Never mind, Frederick, had I been so rich as that, we might not have been so happy, perhaps !" Simple and frugal must have been their wedding feast; a spongy cake," as Fred called it, and some curranty wine,"-this was all their bridal fare; but it eat sweet, whilst merrily pealed the bells. It is impossible to describe Sue as nature has fashioned her-tall and slim, with innate elegance of figure; so light and easy, that many might envy her the refinement of her look. And scanty as her gown may be, she is always neatly dressed; her bonnet of the coarsest straw, tied with graceful nonchalance; and her eyes so sparkling, like bright stars twinkling as she speaks. Twinkling is the term that best explains their charm; to discover their colour is quite impossible; whether they are of hazel, black, or of celestial blue, it matters not, for they are perfect in their radiance. And then her teeth, so white, so pearly, so even, one after the other! a goodly row; strung pearls, or like peas packed in a shell, quite speaking teeth, and white as snow. And Fred had no need of envying Sue this beauty, for his own quite equal her's in their perfection; but it is the inward adorning of Sue's mind which is so attractive; such great simplicity, marked with peculiar sanctity,

which renders such pure religion beautiful beyond description. Her lamp was ever brightly shining; and when even the darkness of adversity came, the more sure and fervent light it gave. Religion made her contented alike with the up's and down's of life; and however hard might be her lot in this world, still did she toil in gladness for her daily bread, thankful for the blessings of the day, and hopeful for the morrow.

And yet Fred's rough arm was all she had to depend on; supposing it was laid low, where could she find the means of sustenance ? "The lovely Susan " would have been of little use to her and Barney; but, happily for the poor, they do not look into futurity with fear and dread; they live not in a state of faintheartedness. The manna that comes from heaven to-day, they have full reason to hope will also fall to-morrow; so the peaceful serenity of Sue is never disturbed by imaginary troubles, for she knows that "light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for such as are true of heart. As Anderson says, "How often do we allow ourselves to dwell upon trials and difficulties in prospect! Like the Marys, as they drew near the SAVIOUR'S grave, wondering 'who will roll the stone away?" Would it not be better to remember, that when they arrived the stone had been removed? that the clouds we so much dread are big with mercy, and if GOD wills it so, may break in blessings on our head ?”

The interior of the fisherman's cottage is the picture of comfort; so neat, so clean; yet Sue has always her apologies to make at its being so untidy. A blazing log burns upon the hearth; an arm chair in the corner, in which Fred always sits in the winter. "And there in the winter," Sue said, pointing to a cheerful window-seat sunk in the thick cob wall, “ Fred always takes the best seat!" twinkling her eyes as she spoke with a loving smile. A little round table and a few kitchen utensils complete the furniture of the cot; and the pretty white tea-set displayed in a corner cupboard, besides a few relics of Fred's ancestors, such as an old picture of his great grandmother, and a curious specimen of Sue when she was a little girl, decorate their little parlour. Just the sort of parlour Mr. and Mrs. Fred might be expected to possess; no carpet on the floor, no paper adorned their walls; a little table on one side laid out with Sue's song book and some shells, and on another the fishing-nets, neatly folded, looking more suitable and picturesque than all the vertu in the world—Fred's winter work, which had taken him SO many hours to complete! "Through idleness of the hands the building decayeth ;" and Fred has often found, when his nets have been the means of bringing him in a good supply of fish, that "the recompense of a man's hand shall be rendered unto him." "Never give up," is ever the burden of Fred's song, and his fine spirit "holds on as long as it may; but still he has his little trials and disappointments. Yet

he ever keeps up a merry heart; hopeful and trustful with his little Sue, who is always willing to make the rugged path of life as smooth as she can.

"Never give up! it is wiser and better

Always to hope than once to despair;

Fling off the load of doubt's cankering fetter,
And break the dark spell of tyrannical care.
"Never give up! or the burden may sink you,
Providence kindly has mingled the cup,

And in all troubles and trials, bethink you,

The watchword of life must be, Never give up!
"Never give up! though the grape-shot may rattle,
Or the full thundercloud over you burst;

Stand like a rock, and the storm or the battle
Little shall harm you, though doing the worst.

"Never give up! if adversity presses,

Providence wisely has mingled the cup,
And the best counsel in all your distresses,

Is the stout watchword of-Never give up !"

In the summer it is easy for fishermen to earn money from day to day; but when the winter comes with all its rigour, it seems to take them by surprise, and they have often reason to wish that they had been more saving when the summer time was with them, when they had calm seas and fish in plenty. Their winters are severe; and one winter in particular, the bread dear, the potatoes failed, and the house-rent a heavy burden. And once Fred was at his wits' end; the baker's bill so heavy that there was no trust for more, and Sue was even out of spirits, and cried all day; and Fred's little friend asked what it was all about, and found they had reason to be distressed; and then was the time for Fred to be helped in turn, and what few fish he had caught he begged the little gentleman to accept, and they eat sweet, as the offering of a grateful heart. But there was still the baker's bill-that must be paid; and shillings were put into the little gentleman's hand, and he ran with them to his friend. Then Fred's heart was full, and the treasures of his strong-box were poured forth in return. A toothpick-case, lined with red velvet, of an ancient shape, and a little white china mug, with a pretty gold stripe round the edge, given him by his old father, but which, in the overpouring of his gratitude, he begged his little friend to accept. The cup only was retained, as Fred pressed his suit by fearing that the little gentleman did not like it, as belonging to a poor sailor; so to have returned it would have offended Fred's generous heart.

Barney all this time seems to be forgotten; and it would be well if we could pass him over in silence. But no; Barney is in sad disgrace; for he had helped himself to meat which he ought

not to have touched in Sue's pantry, mended his shoe with a piece of leather taken from Fred's oar, and was afterwards found stealing turnips in a field, and not being able to pay the fine, was sent to prison. They were but a few he had taken, but Barney ought not to have touched anything not his own. He, however, bore his punishment very well; and his kind-hearted friends received him again, on the solemn promise that he would behave more honestly in future. Sue was so glad to see him; she could have embraced him for joy; and then prepared him a warm cup of coffee, and made him feel quite at home. Fred was equally pleased to see him, but he felt some reproof was due; and there was a reproach in his tone as he said, "Well, Barney !" But he uttered no more; a silence ensued that spoke more than words, but Barney was ignorant, and seemed hardly to know the extent of what he had done. He could neither write nor read; he cared not for his clothes, and would sit in his things dripping wet, if Sue had not cautioned him to change them. Yet, silly as he was, Fred found his use, and missed him when he was gone. There was no one to haul in the lobster pots, or to help drag in the great Conger eels, which are so large and strong, that they have been known to kill a man. And Barney seemed to feel he was disgraced, and did his best, rowing with all his might. And Fred kindly said, "Pull, my flower!" and all was made up; and it was not until the next time that Fred had to threaten, "I'll be blessed if I have anything to do with that fellow again!" Yet through good report and evil report, Fred is ever kind to his comrade; and Barney does his best to merit this kindness.

Sue had an old father whom she tenderly loved, and who had suffered for a long time with a disease of the heart. He was not so noble as Fred's father-a fact she had often to admit; for Fred was proud of his relations, and there was nothing to be proud of in this poor old man ; but he was good and kind to Sue, and she attended him with great affection in his last illness; sitting up with him, and doing her utmost to soothe his pain. But he died, in spite of all her care; and her grief was very great for her old father's loss, and she had no spirit to go out and sell fish, but sat by him to the last. And when Fred came to console her, she said, "Dear father! look at him, Frederick; he is not the least altered; dear and tender flesh !" But the friends assembled, and poor Sue had to take her final leave of the parent she loved so well. And Fred assisted in carrying him to the grave; dressed in his blue jacket, a piece of crape round his arm, and a clean white handkerchief. And Sue followed close upon the coffin, neatly dressed in black-only just decent black, that was all; for she felt a grief beyond its outward show, and she had been watching her father to the last, instead of busying herself about the mourning. Even Fred's eyes streamed with tears, as he stood by the side of the

grave and felt it a solemn service, and Fred was blessed if ever he felt so dismal before. But he cheered up again at the sight of their comfortable tea by their warm fireside; but poor Sue could not eat, so he knew that her sorrow was even greater than he supposed. Yet after a while Sue restrained her tears, for she thought it unworthy of him to whom she had rendered the last honours to weep for his entrance into the joy of his LORD; for she hoped “that, through the grave and gate of death, he had passed to his joyful resurrection." And she found comfort in thus thinking that her dear father was at rest, and that her loss was to him great gain, for he was now free from pain and trouble. So Sue resumed her busy life again, and Fred was very glad to see her cheerful once

more.

The peaceful halo which gave radiance to her countenance lightens up the very abode of the fisherman's hut; the sunbeam of every Christian virtue brightens their tabernacle. Well was it that GOD made a help meet for man! Luther says "that there is nothing more tender than a woman's heart, when it is the abode of piety," and yet her spirit, tender as it is, is as firm as any rock, for there are no toils which she cannot endure, no little difficulties but what she overcomes. Self-denying, mindful of the wants of others, seeking not her own, but ever the same happy Sue, the dear companion of her husband; making his home a little paradise on earth by her sweet, and gentle, and loving temperament.

Fred was decidedly fond of good things; he managed to subscribe sixpence a week to a club, where he had tripe every Saturday night for supper. It seemed rather a selfish enjoyment, for Sue could not possibly go with him; and poor Barney, it was in vain that he desired to accompany Fred, for a sixpence was more than he was worth altogether. So Barney used to sit sulkily till Fred returned, and Sue had enough to do in arranging her house for Sunday. "The little woman's work is never done," Fred would good humouredly say upon his return. It is easy to be jocose upon a good supper, but Sue would reply, "Poor people must work for their livelihood; it is pleasanter to eat than it is to scrubby." But Fred with his good cheer was above the world, and Sue's sober sense told her that anything was better than scolding; so she would sit down to needly, as the Devonshire people express it, and everything was ready for the morrow. On other nights Fred was as busily employed as herself, singing as he leisurely mended his nets. He could not complain of the havoc a bountiful draught had caused; but he wished the dog-fish would keep themselves away, for being larger than herrings, it was difficult to extricate their fins from the net. And, besides, the dog-fish is of no use, for it is venomous and does mischief; wounding the hand, if possible, with a sort of thorn it has on the back. In the herring season the nets are spread out on the beach, or are hung over