of it more than half
the day.

"I was swimming to the shore with all my might, endeavoured to sustain a
mother and her child. She sank twice, and yet I bore her on. My
strength failed me. The babe was nothing--a mere cork. `Go, go,' said
the brave mother, `save my child, save my--' and she sank, to rise no
more. Nerved by the resolution of that woman, I reached the shore in
safety. The babe I saved. Ere I had reached the beach, the Sherrod had
swung off the bar, and was floating down, the engine having ceased
running. In every direction heads dotted the surface of the river. The
burning wreck now wore a new, and still more awful appearance. Mothers
were seen clinging, with the last hope to the blazing timbers, and
dropping off one by one. The screams had ceased. A sullen silence
rested over the devoted vessel. The flames became tired of their
destructive work.

"While I sat dripping and overcome upon the beach, a steam boat, the
Columbus, came in sight, and bore for the wreck. It seemed like one
last ray of hope gleaming across the dead gloom of that night. Several
wretches were saved. And still another, the Statesman, came in sight.
More, more were saved.

"A moment _to me_ had only elapsed, when high in the heavens the cinders
flew, and the country was lighted all round. Still another boat came
booming on. I was happy that more help had come. After an exchange of
words with the Columbus, the captain continued on his way under full
steam. Oh, how my heart sank within me! The waves created by his boat
sent many a poor mortal to his long, long home. A being by the name of
Dougherty was the captain of that merciless boat. Long may he be
remembered!

"My hands were burnt, and now I began to experience severe pain. The
scene before me--the loss of my two sisters and brother, whom I had
missed in the confusion, all had steeled my heart. I could not weep--I
could not sigh. The cries of the babe at my side were nothing to me.

"Again--another explosion! and the waters closed slowly and sullenly
over the scene of disaster and death. Darkness resumed her sway, and
the stillness was only interrupted by the distant efforts of the
Columbus and Statesman in their laudable exertions to save human life.

"Captain Castleman lost, I believe, a father and child. Some argue,
this is punishment enough. No, it is not. He had the lives of hundreds
under his charge. He was careless of his trust; he was g