( With an Illustration.") " THERE'S two ends to every trouble, Mary; there's the end that goes downward and drags us to the earth, and there's the end that goes upwards and draws us to heaven.

There's a deal iii having grief by the right end, Mary." And Christopher turned to examine his tackle and clean out his boat.

Christopher Buckley, or "Old Kit," as he was usually called, was gray-headed, but his heart was young—brimming over with loving-kindness and sympathy; his sunburnt face, tanned and wriukled as it was, had such a pleasant smile, and such an upright, vigorous, honest look, that any one who knew the secret of perpetual youth might see at one glance he also had it.

He was very sorrowful when he told poor Mary Methil of the two ends of a grief, sorrowful for her—a wife of a few months— weeping over the widowhood which she be- * This song can be song to the well-known air, "Qod Bless (he Prince of Wales." t We are indebted to the publishers of that excellent serial, the Sunday at Home, for the electro-block of our illustration; and also for the substance of our article, which is founded on facts.

lieved had come upon her, in consequence of the fearful effects of the storm of the 22nd, 23rd, and 24th of October of 1864. It is melancholy to relate that 26 fishermen belonging to Buckie alone perished out at sea during that fearful gale. Christopher knew for a certainty that they had left behind them 12 widows and 34 fatherless children. How sincerely he wished that the fine life-boat at Buckie, belonging to the NATIONAL INSTITUTION, could, by any possibility, have been of use on the sad—very sad—occasion, " and then," he added, with his face glowing with joy, " we might to-day be talking to your husband, Mary, of the narrow escape he had had of drowning, like too many more of our dear friends." "Oh! it is very sad!" said Mary; "I begin to fear now the worst. Meggie, my neighbour, tells me that a portion of Jackles's boat has been found between Buckie and Portgordon, and some of the furnishings of another boat named the Gley. All their crews have perished, I much fear!" " Oh!" said Old Kit, " it is truly distressing! Have ye also heard of the loss of the fishing-boat Shamrock ? Poor John Smith, her owner, is too old now to go to sea. I have often been fishing with him, and a noble and skilful fisherman he was.

He had seven sons, and five of these, with four near relatives, made up the devoted crew of the Shamrock. I fear they have all been drowned in this dreadful gale!" From this close partnership, 2dded to their family relationship and social brotherhood, the crew of the Shamrock had long been looked on as a happy crew indeed, and certainly an interesting one.

The storm raged with fearful violence all along the north and east coast of Scotland, causing the loss of scores of valuable lives, and the - destruction of a great number of ships and fishing-boats.

We cannot help thinking, that .if our fishermen continued to attend to the rise and fall of the barometer, and carried with them an aneroid, much of the loss of life that constantly attends storms would probably be prevented.

Young Herrick Methil, Mary's husband, had been as a son to Christopher Buckley, and there was not one of the people, either; of his own craft or not of it, but liked him: he had a good name with all, and Mary had been counted a happy girl when she became his wife.

But this terrible storm—one that no frail vessel of the fishing fleet that had left their harbour two nights before could possibly hope to weather—had filled the village with dismay. Wives and mothers, sisters and daughters, might be seen on the beach at Buckie and other places, wringing their hands, and heard making sorrowful moans at every turn—some wandering on the highest points of the cliff, straining their eyes across the now quiet sea in lingering hope; some sitting despairingly at their doors, their little ones gathered round them. Such a clamour of grief there was, that Christopher, having done his best to try to comfort them, went oft' to his boat to pray for them, for it was too much for him to see so many broken hearts at once.

" Sure enough we've had no news of 'em, and likely it is we never shall no more! Well, who can say, the weeping rony be turned into rejoicing, for the storm can do no more than He commands who sends it but it would be a cruel thing to encourage them to hope. No, no ! to get 'em to lie still and commit all to God, and to wait in patience to know His will—that would be the way to comfort; but it seems unfeeling when I say so." H« had reached his boat before he saw poor Mary Bitting beside it, her hands folded on her knees, and looking despondingly indeed.

At first he was startled and much pained to see her, for of all the stricken, he cared the most for her. She was the wife of hi* brave cordial friend, and so worthy of him, that as Herrick seemed as his son, Mary was to him as a daughter. He turned aside to brush oft' die tears from bis rugged face, and then telling her of the two ends t f a trouble, thought it best to leave her quiet. But he went blundering *bout bis boat doing more, harm than good, for every minute his head was up, and his eyes fixed on her; at last he threw down the tackle and seated himself on the boat side.

But what could he say ? When he looked at her face full of the restfulness of a holy calm, he thought, "Now she is a perfect picture of them words, ' kept by the power of God.' She could no more look in that way if she tried in her own strength, than I could tell at this moment where our poor fellows are; and the danger of me speaking is, whether I shan't disturb her, like shaking a full vessel. I'd best, be silent." But Kit found silence difficult; it seemed unfeeling. So he steered between speaking and silence by trying to sing. She might take as much as she liked of his song, without being obliged to speak in reply; he was comforted by this happy thought, and began:— "From ev"ry stormy wind that blows, From ev'ry swelling tide of woes.

There is a calm, a sure retreat—" * * * * Mary did not answer, but he saw large tears upon her cheeks, and her face quivered slightly. She seemed as if she could not venture to look at him.

" Mary, my girl, you've got the trouble by the right end, I believe," he said, again brushing off' the tears that Mary's had brought into his own eyes. " Well, I'm not far from my threescore and ten, and I've had my trials in my day, but I never grieved for one of 'em as I do for this of yours, and good reason when it's my own too. Don't think, my girl, I'd be so hardhearted as to comfort you. I know your heart and its sorrow better than that; but Mary dear " Here he was silent, for a distant hum of sounds struck on his practised ear. He looked aghast with agitation, and trembled as be glanced from her over her shoulder, carefully avoiding to excite her attention while he did it.

" And, after all, Mary," he said, clearing his voice, " you know the Lord's ways are so wonderful. No storm can do work beyond His command." Mary was silvnt; but the expression of b*r fce« became rather agitated W*d reproachful, as if to say, " Why wake false hopes ?" "Now, if I was to give my opinion, Marf," said Kit, having taken another sight over fat* shoulder, " I should say that the storm of Saturday, the 22nd October, 1804, was worse with us than further out; and though it's late—yes, it's late—I'm ready prepared to see our poor fellows come in—a little the worse for a longer voyage than they reckoned for, but heart whole—that storm kept 'em out, Mary, but it never damaged our Herrick, I'm sure of it." Old Kit said this so confidently, having had a most satisfactory survey of the beach, that Mary's eyes were turned towards him with a bewildered look of wonder and inquiry.

" I expect to see 'em, Mary, that's what I do; I shall see 'em ; you shall see "em too; for the life-boat has gone out to be ready to help them if need be; and you know that the presence of the life-boat gives men like Herrick fresh courage, for she is a messenger of mercy." "Bless the life-boat!" said Mary, " and may it help to bring my Herrick home to me!" Bat Kit had done his part, the hum had become louder, and proclaimed its cause.

A strange smile, almost ghastly, passed over Mary's face; she gazed imploringly at Christopher.

" Now for hallelujah!" said he, as, gently holding her arm, he led her a step or two onwards where the scene on the beach was plain to view.

There were wives half frantic with joy, the whole village thronging round the welcome wanderers; and soon peals of joyful acclamation rent the air.

Mary saw all dimly—all but one; Herrick, cautiously advancing, lest he should overwhelm her with too sudden a joy; and her overwrought heart and agitation justified Christopher's remark, " that she got into trouble better than she got out of it." That evening was one of general rejoicing: and thus the shortest sorrows and the longest joys belong only to them who know how to pray, and, therefore, how to praise.