THE FISHERMAN'S FAMILY.

FROM REAL LIFE.

WE enter a room in which are two young men. They are alike in age, alike in affection felt towards each other, alike in their deep religious feelings; but, oh, how different in their relative position! One is in the enjoyment of strength and vigour; and, although in his face may be discerned the traces of deep grief, yet we may see that it reflects perfect health of body, and soundness, although a disturbed state, of mind. He leans over a bed on which is stretched his fond companion, a fellow mortal hastening fast towards the conclusion of his earthly pilgrimage. The expression of death already stamped on the countenance-as seen in the dimmed eye, darkening under the shadow of death, and in the paleness of every feature-tells us that he is nearing the haven of eternity. These two young men are twin brothers, and have been playmates and associates from infancy; and so like were they in feature and in form, when both were in health, that it was difficult to distinguish the one from the other. They were as two young trees planted near each other, interweaving their leaves and foliage together,having a community of feeling, and an interchange of thought, not common even among brothers.-a relationship calculated to draw forth and keep in exercise the best sympathies of mankind.

It is past midnight; and the sufferer having fallen into an uneasy slumber, his brother, weary with watching, has resumed his seat, and, sinking back in it, is apparently also overcome by sleep. The house is pervaded with stillness, for all are receiving that refreshment to a weary body and anxious mind, which sleep, that "sovereign restorer," happily produces. Let us embrace this interval of repose to acquaint our readers with the family of which these young men are members, and to detail the interesting and affecting incident which has caused this affliction.

John Waterston, the father of these young men, was a fisherman in a small sea-coast village in the north of Scotland. He was a man of humble pretensions, but of sincere and devoted piety. Early imbued with a knowledge

of Divine truths, he had taken God's word as a lamp unto his feet, and as a light unto his path, through the trying pilgrimage of life, and was daily looking forward to a better country, even a heavenly. His wife, a woman of kindred spirit with his own, was taken from him by an afflictive dispensation of God's providence, in giving birth to her fourth child, a boy; and when this bereavement took place, the two eldest, the twins we have already noticed, were only about six years of age. John's only daughter, Mary, was two years younger than her twin brothers.-Hugh and John; and the youngest, the innocent occasion of their all being motherless, was named William. On this youngling of the flock was lavished all the affection of the family; and his entrance into the world, amidst the dark cloud of affliction, seemed to impart to him, in the eyes of his father, an interest and a value beyond all else beside. It appeared to him as if "God, who gives and who takes away," had given him in stead of his beloved wife. Though fondly attached to each of his children, yet it was on this, his youngest, that his eye most frequently rested. To all he felt paternal affection: to the youngest he seemed to have transferred much of the love he had entertained for his partner in life. Nor did this lead to jealousy in the other children: on the contrary, all were attached to their wee Willie." To this family group we have yet to add an elderly woman, named Elspith, who had for some years been a near neigbour of our fisherman, and who, on the death of his wife, was asked, and gladly accepted, the office of housekeeper to the bereaved husband. She was

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entirely devoted in heart and spirit to the whole family; and many former kindnesses rendered her by John Waterston, were now more than repaid in her tender motherly care of his offspring.

Nothing of any moment occurred in the life of this humble family for many years. The children were carefully trained up in the fear of the Lord; and, in the parish school, were instructed in those ordinary and useful branches of education which are generally taught in these seminaries. We must now advance to a period of twelve years after the death of the mother of the family, and about a

fortnight prior to the opening scene of our story. At this period the two eldest sons were accustomed to assist their father in his perilous occupation. Their sister, Mary, was advancing into womanhood, and becoming almost the image of her mother. Willie, as he was affectionately termed, was now of course twelve years of age. He had been extremely delicate from his infancy, and many were the anxieties that had been cherished on his account. On a Sabbath evening, a fortnight before the period which we have made the commencement of our story, he had been complaining even more than usual of headache and faintness; and when the family had all retired to rest, his father, on going to bed, found himself unable to sleep from the anxious thoughts which haunted him. At length, after many tossings, he found that repose he so much needed, but awoke again at early dawn. Willie, who slept with him, was in a composed slumber; yet the anxious parent found himself so wakeful that he arose. On going into the next room, where his sons, Hugh and John, slept, he was struck by the singularly beautiful countenance of Hugh, on which the rays of the sun seemed to concentrate, and to throw a glorious halo; and though only thinking at present of his son's beauty, the poor fisherman, after the dire accident happened which we are about to record, looked back on this brilliant sunshine on Hugh's face as if it had been a sort of omen of the event.

It was a bright and beautiful morning, early in September. The sea, which the week before had been stormy and disturbed, now lay placid and calm as a tired child asleep. There seemed to be a peculiar brightness in the atmosphere. The spars and rigging of several small trading vessels, lying anchored in the bay, looked as if drawn against the sky by a pencil, so distinct were they in their outlines and tracery. John Waterston was that day engaged to assist a neighbour in binding his sheaves in the reaping field ; but his eldest sons, after an early breakfast, prepared to set out for the deep-sea fishing. Willie was better, and was anxious to accompany them, but this his father was unwilling to allow. Hugh and John, however, overcame his unwillingness by urging that Willie would be

better for the sea air; and who would dream of danger in such a calm, beautiful morning? Alas! How true is it. "We know not what an hour may bring forth!" Mary diligently prepared a seat in the stern of the boat for Willie, with a pillow and her tartan cloak, while Elspith busied herself in packing a basket with a bottle of milk and some oaten cakes. At length all was ready; and shoving off the boat from the sandy beach, the twin brothers pulled at their oars, and the boat soon receded from land. Ere they were beyond hearing, the fond father came out from his cottage, and called after them, “Take care of Willie,” to which they both responded, "That we will."

A breeze having sprung up, the brothers took in the oars and hoisted a sail; and Hugh went aft beside Willie, taking the helm, while John lounged over the bow of the boat looking down at the feathery forest of sea-weed beneath. How little he thought that his bones would yet whiten in some fathomless recess of the ocean, if, indeed, the monsters of the deep should permit a vestige of his body to remain ! About a mile from the shore there was anchored a pleasure yacht belonging to a gentleman in the neighbourhood, a Mr. Blair, to whom our fishermen were well known. In it, at this time, were Mr. Blair himself and two gentlemen, his friends. When the "Mary Waterston," (for so old John had named his wherry,) neared this yacht, Hugh hailed them, asking, “Will ye up anchor, and try a run with us?" This proposal Mr. Blair declined; but Hugh, not hearing him well, shifted the sail in order to run up to the yacht. The boat, in turning upset, two large round stones which had been placed in the bottom of the boat for ballast, and which had not been secured, having rolled over to one side. The three brothers were fortunately not entangled with the wherry; and the two eldest being able to swim, all would have been well, but for Willie, who was unable from weakness to exert himself. Hugh, however, got hold of him, and kept him up almost out of the water, with the one hand, while he kept afloat with the other, and shouted in anguish, “O save Willie, save Willie!" John seeing Willie so far safe in Hugh's hands struck out in the hurry of the moment for the yacht, but ere he had gone far, returned, afraid of

Hugh's sinking under his burden. All this which has taken us some time to describe was the incident of a minute. The party in the yacht saw all that took place, and hastened to get up their anchor and row to the assistance of the young men. In the meantime, John had returned to Hugh, whose strength being now exhausted, handed Willie over to him, saying, "Keep Willie safe for I am gone, and immediately sunk." The yacht was almost immediately on the spot; and John, who was an 'expert diver, soon brought up his brother Hugh, who was insensible; and the yacht made to the shore with all speed, doing all they could on the way for Hugh's resuscitation. He revived after a little; but their joy at this was soon over, for he began to vomit blood, a dismal sign of his having burst a blood-vessel. The poor young man, in his anxiety to save Willie, had fallen a sacrifice to his affection.

How can we describe the return of these young fishermen to their home? Such a scene can be better imagined than portrayed. The father's mute anguish, Mary's heart-rending sobs, and Elspith's sympathizing sorrow, must already have been suggested to the minds of my readers. Medical assistance was promptly called; and the benevolent Dr. Stewart of the neighbouring town of - was constrained, after examination of his patient, to fulfil his mournful duty in acquainting Hugh and the afflicted family, that he did not think the poor sufferer had long to live. O how constantly was poor Hugh waited on! How many were the inquiries made by the neighbours, with whom he had been an universal favourite: His self-devotion in saving Willie at the risk of his own life, gave an heroic lustre to his character, that called forth a corresponding sympathy from all who heard of the afflicting incident.

The Rev. Mr.

minister of the Associate congregation of (of whose church Hugh's father was an elder, and himself, John and Mary, were members,) was daily at his bedside ministering unto him the consolations of the Gospel, and delightedly listening to his lucid views of the great and leading truths of our most holy faith. From a child he had known the holy Scriptures,' and had deeply meditated on the wondrous truths revealed in them; and now they