All was now a scene of confusion; some applied themselves diligently to the pumps, and others sought to diminish the leak by stretching a sail across the gap, while the passengers hurried, some one way, and some another, as if in a state of frenzy.  To seek assistance from the propeller, even if she might not be in as disastrous a condition as themselves, was out of the question; for both vessels being under full headway at the moment of the collision, she was now again enveloped in fog.  Oh, God! must it be thus? no escape for these three hundred beings?  What an awful moment of suspense!  Still the steamer settles down; what is done must be done speedily.  The captain is without his first officer, with whom he might consult, his absence necessarily detracting from the number of boats; but had the boats been suffered to remain unmolested, for the benefit of the passengers, it were doubtful if they could have contained so large a number.  Where now are those gladsome little children, those aged men and women, who, listening to those voices of childhood, would fain have believed themselves young again?  Ah! where are they?  Wringing their hands in wild despair! clambering over the sides of the ship, endeavoring to save themselves on rafts, spars, or articles affording inferior protection.

The Sea-flower,—­where is she? where is her aged protector?  Upon the deck of that ill-fated steamer the Sea-flower kneels, with eyes meekly turned heavenward.  She asks that peace may be shed upon the hearts of that agonized throng; that they may fitly receive this will of divine dispensation.  Never was her countenance more serene.  Just then a voice was heard at her side,—­“we are going home;” it was the voice of the noble officer, who had before noted her words.

“I was happy,” replied Natalie, “when I said we are going home, but I did not realize we would so soon meet the loved ones in that celestial home, where we shall part no more forever; and I am happy now; yet this terrible cry of anguish incites my deep, deep sympathies.”

“Thank God for this presence of an angel, to shed light over my last hour!” said the officer; “I now go down through that dark valley of death, unattended by that gloom which had seized upon my soul.  My God, in mercy wilt thou sustain my wife and children, when they shall look for my coming, and I shall never return to them more! and may they soon meet me there.” (He knew not that the youngling of his flock would so soon join him in singing the songs of the redeemed.)

He said no more; they were going down; a life-preserver was in his hands, which he would have secured about the Sea-flower, but she waved her hand to him, saying,—­“Take it to yourself.  Farewell.”

Supported by her grand-parent’s arm, she gazed upon the waters; they were not angry.  Peacefully sighing, they met her touch, as if they would welcome her home.  “Mother,” she breathed, with her last of mortal breath;—­was it a farewell to that loved one of earth, or did she joyfully greet her sainted mother, who awaited the coming of her child to her home in the skies, where “the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes?”