Boat at shore
Boat at shore
drop-cap
Inmany of the little coves and bays on the coast of Cornwall, small villages may be found—the dwellings of fishermen, their wives, and families. Here, perhaps, they have livedfrom the time they were born, without a thought or a wish, as far as the land is concerned, beyond the narrow place in which they dwell. The sea is the great object of their cares, for it contains the means by which they live. By the fish which they catch in it, they are provided with meat, drink, and lodging: and too often is the sea their grave. The poor men lead a hard and anxious life in their fishing pursuits; and are often tempted to risk their lives, rather than give up a chance, when a favorable shoal of fish may be expected. The women mostly spend their time in making and mending nets, and drying and salting the fish. Even the children may be always found employed about fish in some way or other.The very young make playthings of the bones; those about ten or eleven assist their mothers in curing fish; and all, both old and young, feed, with a relish never lost, on the finny tribe. It is a pretty sight, on a fine sunny day, to see the seine, or net, drawn in on the white pebbly beach: it contains, perhaps, many hundreds of fishes, tinted with all the colors of the rainbow. The various families to whom the net belongs crowd down to the shore for their share of the fish; for, as the net costs a great deal of money, the price is divided, perhaps, between half a dozen owners. During the winter season, should there have been any failure in the fishing, great hardships are sometimes felt by these poor people.The stock of salt fish is done; potatoes are dear, and money to buy bread is but scarce. The patience and self-denial shown under such privations is truly to be admired, and might furnish a useful lesson to those whom it had pleased God to provide, at all seasons, with every thing that can make life pleasant; and who are too apt to complain if some of the lesser means of their enjoyment are cut off by a hard winter season.
THE FISHERMEN.
THE FISHERMEN.
THE FISHERMEN.
Rosecreay, one of the fishing villages we have been describing, was fortunate, during a very severe winter, in having near it a very charitable lady, who had taken a house which for many years had been without an inmate.
Why she remained in a cold and bleakspot, so far from London, from whence she came, her friends often wondered; and her daughter Julia, when she heard the wind coming in great gusts up the valley, or the rain beating against the windows, as if it insisted on coming in, would wish she was back again in the pretty house at Kensington. Mrs. Martin was not poor, but she was not rich, and she had taken the old house for three years, because the rent was very low; her own house in town she had let, and the change was made that her only son, Frederic, might study as a painter. How many mothers thus deny themselves comforts, that they may save money for those dearer to them than their own lives! How few meet with any reward for theirself-denial! Mrs. Martin was constant in her visits to the families of the fishermen; gave them tracts to read; made clothes for the poor children; and was always ready, in time of illness, with medicine for the sick, and soup for those getting better. She also tried to teach them cleaner habits; but in this she failed. Julia soon got tired of going with her mother to see people who persisted in having such bad smells in and about their houses, wondering, at the same time, that, with water so near, the village was not kept cleaner; to which an old woman would sometimes reply, that fish never smell ill to them. One stormy day in January, Mrs. Martin and Julia sat at the window watching the hugewaves that came tumbling in, with, as Julia said, “great white caps on their heads.” The fine weather of yesterday, said Mrs. Martin, I hear, has tempted poor John Penman to go out fishing, in spite of his having hardly got rid of the fever he has so long had. I am afraid that as he knew that Frederic is coming we should like some fish to-day. The weather changed so suddenly in the night, that I feel quite anxious lest he should have been lost. Mrs. Martin’s fears were too well founded, for John Penman, his eldest son, and another lad, never saw their homes again: the boat had been lost during the heavy gale, and all on board had perished.
How dreadful! said Julia. I wish wedid not live where we were always hearing and seeing such disagreeable things. We must not, my dear Julia, said her mother, indulge in such selfish feelings; let us rather think what we can do for the poor widow and her orphans, whether it is disagreeable or not. The next morning, though it was still stormy, Mrs. Martin set out for the cottage of Mrs. Penman; and as Julia thought it was too cold to venture out, she was spared the sad scene that was seen by Mrs. Martin. The children were crying round the bed of their poor mother, where she lay in too much grief to attend to the kindness of the neighbors, who crowded round trying to comfort her.
The room was small and dirty, withbut little furniture in it; but strange to say, on one side of it hung an old circular painting, and though it was nearly black with smoke, Mrs. Martin could see it was no common picture. With the hope that it might prove of some use to the poor woman, she got the eldest boy to carry it to her house, sending back by him a basket laden with food for his desolate home. Frederic had arrived in due time the night before, and his mother now begged him to look at the old painting. Although he had not long been an artist, he at once saw that it had been painted by a skilful hand. While cleaning it from the smoke and dirt, they found the name of the painter and of the lady on the canvas. On inquiry, theyalso found that John Penman’s father had saved the picture from a great house, which had been burnt to the ground many years ago. Mrs. Martin wrote to the family to whom the painting had once belonged, and they were glad to pay the poor woman, to her great surprise and joy, a handsome sum of money for it. She was then able to buy a share in a net, which her husband had always been too poor to do, and by it was enabled to bring up her family in the humble way to which they had always been accustomed.
Ah! mother, said Julia, what good you have been able to do from always thinking of other people rather than yourself. I will never grumble again atthe smells of the fishing village, but try, if I can, to be as useful there as you have been; and Julia, in spite of the cold and bleak winter, well kept her promise.
Boat on a wave