Fisher Life; Or, The Memorials of Cellardyke and the Fife Coast

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"Fife Herald" Office, 1879 - 157 pages
 

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Page 94 - Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried, And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide, The exulting sense - the pulse's maddening play, That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?
Page 91 - Colder and louder blew the wind, A gale from the north-east ; The snow fell hissing in the brine, And the billows frothed like yeast. Down came the storm, and smote amain The vessel in its strength ; She shuddered and paused like a frighted steed, Then leaped her cable's length.
Page 136 - O that they were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end!
Page 127 - Jesus, my heart's dear refuge, Jesus has died for me ; Firm on the Rock of Ages Ever my trust shall be. Here let me wait with patience — Wait till the night is o'er, Wait till I see the morning Break on the golden shore.
Page 122 - A dimmer flash, a fainter roar ; — At length they saw, they heard no more. There are to whom that ship was dear, For love and kindred's sake ; When these the voice of Rumour hear, Their inmost heart shall quake, Shall doubt, and fear, and wish, and grieve, Believe, and long to unbelieve, But never cease to ache ; Still doom'd, in sad suspense, to bear The Hope that keeps alive Despair.
Page 6 - Up to this time, from the beginning of the year, there was a scarcity of white fish along the east coast, ' to the hurt and hunger of the poor .... and beggaring of the fishermen. It was reported that when the fishers had laid their lines and taken fishes abundantly, there came ane beast called the Sea Dog to the lines, and ate and destroyed the haill bodies, and left nothing on the lines but the heads. A judgment surely from God Almighty, for the like scarcity of fishes to continue so long has scarcely...
Page 140 - Sick or healthful, slave or free, Wealthy, or despised and poor— What is that to him or thee, So his love to Christ endure ? When the shore is won at last, Who will count the billows past...
Page 95 - Zieren ; He in a narrow cabin died, Ne'er more to home restored, His body to a plank they tied, And cast him overboard. The ocean is a mighty grave, Its breast a burial ground ; And every little swelling wave Is but a graveyard mound. Were but the billows backward rolled, We, down in ocean's bed, Long rows of sleepers might behold, The polypus their limbs enfold, White bones entwined with red. Might see their mossy pillow's wreath, Which sand and seaweed spin ; And how with pearly, gleaming teeth...
Page 89 - ItiOO feet in winter, and double that length in summer, so that when the whole or even a portion of the line is lost, a considerable sum is necessary to repair the deficiency. Many of the fishermen are in respectable circumstances, and careful in the management of their substance, but it is matter of deep regret that the same cannot be said of all of them.
Page 123 - Seems to watch, but droppcth bitter Tears into the tide. We shall know our sad emotion, To the joy of all creation, Was a tear-drop to an ocean ! Ere midnight, the wind had shifted, Rising to a gale ; Backward, on her course she drifted, Heeding not the helm ; Now on giant waves uplifted, Threat'ning to o'erwhelm ; Now adown a vale Of dark angry waters driven ; While, like spirits chased from heaven, Loud the wild winds wail. None that night had sought a pillow, Still the deck they crowd ; While...

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