of embarkation in those frail boats, on an ocean that
every moment grew more tempestuous, was almost lost sight of in
contemplation of the nearer and more fearful fate that awaited them
should they linger; and quickly, and with scarce a murmur of
apprehension, the boat was filled.

While Mr. Cameron was assisting Agnes into the frail boat, Mr. Dunseer,
who had secured a life-preserver, as soon as she was safely seated
handed it to her, observing that if the boat should be upset, by
clinging to it she might be preserved from a watery grave.

Thanking him for his kind consideration at such a time, Agnes inquired
anxiously of the two gentlemen whether they were not to accompany her.

"No;" was the reply of Mr. Cameron. "I fear we must be separated, but
only I trust for a time. This boat is not sufficiently large to hold
more than the lady passengers and the sailors who are to manage it. We
are to embark, as soon as you are safely off, in another, but as both
will steer for the same shore, and keep near each other as much as
possible, I trust, by the mercy of Providence, we shall meet again on
=terra firma=.

"Yes," responded the minister, who had been for a moment silent, and his
clear voice sounded like the spirit of peace above the roaring flames
and raging billows, "we are steering, I trust, for the same shore, and
should we never meet again on earth, may it be our happy lot to greet
each other in the haven of eternal rest, haven to take the shipwrecked
in."

Agnes's heart was for a moment too full to speak, but controlling
herself, she said to Mr. Cameron in a hurried whisper, "If anything
should happen to me, and you again behold my friends, tell them, oh,
tell them, that my last thoughts were for them; tell them not to lament
for me, for I shall be at rest, but, oh, I charge, I implore them to
meet me in heaven!"

A burst of tears closed the sentence; she could no longer restrain her
feelings.

"We must leave you now, my dear child," said Mr. Cameron, after
promising compliance with her request. "May heaven bless and help you."

"And may He who holds the winds and the waves in the hollow of his hand,
preserve you, and all, through the hours of this terrible night," was
the solemn ejaculation of Mr. Dunseer, as pressing for the last time her
hand, the final order was given, the boat pushed out from the side of
the burning vessel, and she was left in the midst of strangers;
strangers personally, yet linked to