among the rocks beneath the waters. It was too
horrible. It must not be. He would go back; he would try once more.
Surely, this time, he would recover the drowned bodies of those he loved
so well; and then, at least, he would have the melancholy comfort of
knowing that they were tenderly and reverently laid in the earth.

In the gray dawn of the morning he came back to Yonkers, where the
remains of the still burning steamer lay, and hastened once more to the
beach. Preparing once more to dive into the river again, a simple
object--a child's bonnet met his eye, floating on the water. _It was
Maggie's bonnet._ His heart stood still; his blood froze in his veins;
his eyes strained wildly after the little token of his dreadful loss, as
it floated idly by, its wet and stained blue ribbons fluttering in the
summer breeze. He neither spoke nor stirred; he seemed turned into
stone; his hands clasped tightly together, and his gaze fastened upon
that tiny, but terrible sign of the hapless fate of his wife and child.
The pitying bystanders tried to arouse and draw him away. They assured
him that it was useless to attempt finding any more bodies--every
possible effort had been made; and, at length, the heart-broken man
went sadly away to return to his desolated home.

When he arrived in the street where he lived, and drew near the familiar
house, a shudder came over him. Little Maggie had always watched for him
at the door, to spring into his arms and receive "the first kiss." With
a keen pang at his heart and a smothered groan, he murmured, "They are
gone--they are _dead_. Oh, I cannot go there! I shall be mad if I do."

But suddenly One stood by his side invisible to mortal eyes, and there
came into his heart, like a soft, sweet strain of heavenly music, these
words, "Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted."

Great tears came to his relief, and softened the fierce pain at his
heart; and now, with deep-drawn sighs, he entered first a neighbor's
house to seek that sympathy which his sorely stricken soul had before
refused, and which would give him strength to enter the home where
_they_ were _not_.

His friends met him with extended hands and glad voices, exclaiming,
"Oh, how glad we are that you have come! We rejoice with you that your
dear ones are safe."

"Safe--SAFE?" he cried, "do you mock me in my misery?"

"Why," they answered, "do you not know that they have returned, and are
safe in your house?"