FISHERMEN'S OWN BOOK. 201 



preparations for the safety of the vessel. As soon as the work was com- 

 pleted we went ashore, some going to their boarding houses and others to 

 their homes. The increasing wind whirled and blustered the fast falling 

 snow in a manner that was anything but pleasant to the wayfarers who were 

 obliged, as we were, to meet and face the storm. 



My family, the members of which had been picturing me as struggling 

 with the tempest at sea, received an unexpected and pleasant surprise when, 

 with my rubber suit on and covered with snow, I opened the kitchen door 

 and suddenly entered the room. One general exclamation of, "O ! father," 

 came from my children, as they sprang with open arms to greet me. The 

 joy of such meetings can, however, be better imagined than described ; suf- 

 fice it to say that such are the brightest spots, the oases, so to speak, in a 

 fisherman's life, and none but those who have been separated under similar 

 circumstances from those they love can realize the pleasure of such home 

 comings : 



" It scatters sunshine o'er our way, 

 And turns our thorns to roses ; 

 It changes weary night to day, 

 And hope and love discloses." 



AN OLD BOAT. 





I passed a boat, to-day, on the shore, 

 That will be launched on the sea no more. 



Worn and battered — the straight keel bent, 

 The side, like a ruined rampart, rent. 



Left alone, with no covering, 



For who would steal such a useless thing? 



It was shapely once, when the shipwright's 



hand 

 Had laid each plank as the master planned ; 



And it danced for joy on the curling wave, 

 When first the sea's broad breast it clave. 



And it felt the pulse of the well-timed stroke 



That rang on the thole-pin of tuneful oak. 



Oft it has carried home the spoil 

 Of fishers, tired with night-long toil ; 



And often, in Summer days, it knew 

 The laugh of a pleasure-seeking crew ; 



Or, launched by night on the blinding waves, 

 It has rescued a life from the sea's dark 

 graves. 



It is useless now as it lies on the beach, 

 Drawn high beyond the billow's reach; 



And none of all it has served in stress 

 Remember it now in its loneliness. 



