beacon of safety. They hoped some would see their situation, and be directed, by God's mercy, to bring them succour. Yet the red light only served to make the surrounding darkness seem more impenetrable. Their eyes sought in vain to pierce it.

"We must soon be at Frankfort," said the old Fenner to his companions. "Let slight more fagots and try to make our ivation known by loud cries for help. Perians our united strength of voice will reach their cars."

They di as he said. More fagots flickered on the raft; they called loudly for help as they perceived they were nearing the town. They were not aware that already in Frankfurt was their perilous situation known. Messengers on horseback had brought the intelligence from Hanan, and all that zeal and affection and forethought could scheme for their preservation had been done by the have Frankfort people without stint of cost ar trouble. More particularly had they I placed strong ship-ropes across the pillars of the Maine bridge, and attached ladders to these, in the hope that the unfortunate watermen might seize some of them as they passed the bridge, and so escape. The inhabitants, in great numbers, waited the arrival of the raft with beating hearts. Everything had been arranged with the greatest care and forethought, but all in main. The water raged in such a manner about the bridge, from the collection of ice, as to be a perfect whirlpool. The raft was carried with such violence that it required the utmost exertion on the part of those on board to keep hold of it, or they would have bern dashed into the foaming cauldron at the bridge. The ropes let down, the cries to reach them, were all to no purpose. The raft did not drive athwart the pillars, but shot right through the arch like an arrow; and me cry of anguish rose from a thousand lips the raft with her light was seen to pass beyond their power to aid. The hearts of the Frankfort people were heavy with foreboding fears. If the men were not saved before they reached the masses of ice in the Rhine, then their case was desperate indeed. They questioned with themselves-could

they have planned better and differently? lat now it was too late. Meanwhile the raft, with its freight, held on its fearfully mid course. It was still early, but the darkness set in soon at that season, about

four o'clock; and it was spread now over the happy and the wretched, over the peaceful calm landscape, and the wild, restless

waters.

It was about 9 o'clock when they approached the small town of Höchst on the Maine. More fagots were lighted and set up on poles. With greater efforts, though with hoarser voices, they shouted "Help! help!" On all places of the Maine, at times when accidents are likely to happen from the breaking up of the ice, watches are placed in order to warn the inhabitants of any cases of danger. This night a watch stood on the quay at Höchst, and observed with great attention the rise and fall of the water. Long before the raft reached the town, the inhabitants had received tidings of its approach. A messenger on horseback had brought the news here also. The cry ran like wildfire through the town, "They are coming, they are coming!" All hastened to the bank in the hope of helping their poor brethren. But, above all, the watermen were forward with their efforts; for it is to be observed, in all such cases, how sailors seem to forget at such a time life, safety, and family--everything but the persons to be saved, and the call on them to do their utmost. They know the perils of the treacherous element, and how much skill is needed in contending with it. Here stood the bravest, most experienced watermen in the first row, with poles, hooks, ropes, and every means of affording help to the unfortunates. The hearts of hundreds beat loudly. One fearful anxiety possessed them all. In the crowd stood an old wood-merchant, Sweitzer, of Höchst on the Maine, who for several years had had dealings with old Fenner, and, as both were brave, openhearted men, they were fast friends. A kind of undefined presentiment possessed Sweitzer, that it was his old friend who was now in this perilous condition. He could give no reason for such a foreboding, but he felt it, and his heart was thumping as though it would burst his bosom.

And now the raft approached with its terrible-looking beacon light. The dark forms were visible as they wrung their hands and cried for help. The ery was just audible, but help was impossible. No one could get near them. The attempt would be utter madness, for it was certain death, without the prospect of being of the least use.

The

Again the deep groans of anguish, the fervent prayers for their safety; but helping hand none could reach. They must witness their danger, hear their cry, in inactivity. Nothing could be done. Then the old Sweitzer pressed through the throng close to the side of the river, just to utter one word of comfort and encouragement, to hope on. It was all he could offer. Fenner recognized through the roar of the elements the voice of his true old friend. In despair he jumped up, rushed to the side of the raft, and called out with all the power of his voice, hoarse through agony and fatigue, "Save me, friend Sweitzer,- for God's sake save me, or I perish miserably, together with my son and two companions." Those on the shore understood his words. old Sweitzer sprang up with a cry that thrilled through all about him, and tore his grey hair in anguish. The poor old man was quite beside himself. There was his poor friend in momentary peril of death, and he, who would have given him help at the risk of his life, stood by and could do nothing for him. Tears streamed down the old man's cheeks, his hands sank to his side, feeble and useless; all his agony was to no purpose. His cries and despair, indeed, had a distressing effect on the bystanders, which was evidenced by loud sobs, wringings of hands, and groans; but they could afford no actual aid. Many did what Christians should do they prayed earnestly for their brethren in their hour of peril. Others covered their faces with their hands, and hurried away, under emotions for which they could find no adequate expression.

Meanwhile the current hurried on the raft, with its red light and unhappy crew, further and further down the wild stream, and it vanished from the sight of those on shore in the thick darkness of the night. There are still people alive in Höchst who remember this terrible scene, and describe it as one of the most painful moments of their lives when they beheld the raft with its lurid pine blaze and dark forms gradually disappear like a spirit. They could distinguish their friends wringing their hands in very despair. They could hear the crash of the ice as it met the raft in its descent down the stream.

The night became colder. A cutting wind blew across the valley of the Maine, lashing the waves of the river. Forward, forward

dashed the raft, passing all the places on the shore where intelligence of the disaster had arrived; nowhere could those on shore afford the least aid.

Their

Hunger was added to their trials. limbs were stiff with cold, and it was only by beating their hands and arms together that they could keep their blood in circulation. But their strength began now to fail them. Nearer and nearer they were approaching the Rhine. Already could they hear the rush of its waters, in spite of the roar of the ice stream about them. They knelt down and prayed for their dear ones at home, for forgiveness of sins for His sake who hung on the cross for the sins of the whole world, for a blessed release, that death might soon end their sufferings. And then they sat down, resigned to the will of God.

Nearer and nearer came the rush of the Rhine, and nearer, as they believed, the moment of going to their Judge--to Him to whom all our thoughts, words, and actions are known.

But

They had now reached the place where the Maine joins the Rhine. Fearful was the concussion of water and masses of ice from both rivers. The raft sank in its fore part into the stream. Now is the terrible moment -all is over! No, not yet-the raft raised again its front part. They could hear, amid all the noise of the elements, the church clock of Mayence strike two. They did not sink at once, as they expected to do, and for a moment the natural hope and desire of life revived, as they were carried more swiftly, but yet more calmly, along the stream of the Rhine, which it seemed was filled by pieces of ice that had been forcibly broken. a second thought, which was suggested by their knowledge of the nature of the stream, warned them that this hope was delusive. The broader the stream, the further they were from the banks, and so the less hope of rescue. Then at length their hopes and courage sank, and with these their physical strength also. God's providence had indeed hitherto wonderfully preserved them. the junction of the Maine and Rhine there was every probability that a small raft like theirs would be so tossed, and so far sunk, that all on board must be thrown into the river, and then who could hope to swim through the raging torrent and the masses of ice? But the raft had not sunk, but

At

still carried the almost famished, benumbed, wet, and wearied men who had been on it for so many hours of pain and fear. It still carried them, and seemed to float more quietly down the broad stream of the Rhine than it had done when carried by the Maine. But still they could not hide from themselves the dangers which threatened. Did they not know of the islands which lay in the Rhine district, in the green waters of the Rhine? Supposing they were happy enough to escape being dashed against the bridge at Mayence, which might easily happen in the dark night, yet below lay the Mouse Tower, the rocks in the Binger ford, those of Wirbellai, the Ape Island, the Pfalz, the Seven Sisters, not to mention a numberless quantity of small rocks all the way down, and the arrow pass at Lurlei. All these perils could not but suggest themselves to the thoughts of the watermen, and you may imagine how feebler and feebler seemed the ray of hope which had for a while cheered their minds when they found themselves in afety on the waters of the Rhine. Could they yet hope? When does hope leave the human soul? It is the anchor to which the feeble vessel of life holds until the eye closes in death.

Their situation had become the more forkra, since the supply of pine fagots was now exhausted. Not a single star was to be seen. The night was awfully dark. They had now no means of calling attention in any way to their perilous position before daylight, since their voices had become so hoarse that it was quite impossible to make themselves heard above the roar around them. And now they were hurried down the stream, enveloped in utter darkness. The raft passed safely, under the protection of the angel of God, through dangers most likely to be fatal,—through the rocks of the Mouse Tower, through the narrow and at that time most dangerous rapid of the Binger ford, under the mountains of the Middle Rhine.

What a night it was-dark as pitch, and | seemingly endless!-the jaws of death ready every moment to swallow them up! On the banks the villagers were quietly asleep, and, if awake, quite powerless to help them. was terribly cold; their wet clothes clung to them, and hunger became absolutely tormenting, while their minds were agitated by alternations of hope and fear.

It

After a night of darkness which seemed endless, at length the feeble dawn began to appear-grey and cold-looking as one sees it on a winter morning when the sun just begins to shine on the earth, still partly frost-bound. Their minds had now become almost torpid, like their bodies, and the appearance of day failed to cheer them. How could they hope to be saved, when no saving hand was near?

The stream of the Rhine between Binger and Bonn is narrower, and proportionately more rapid. In this part the masses of ice were more closely pressed to the banks, and formed a sort of wall on either side from 16 to 20 feet high, rising perpendicularly, with jagged and pointed tops. Owing to the constant motion and pressure of the floating masses of ice in the river, almost every moment vast avalanches, or rather huge ice-rocks, fell into the stream, thus increasing the blocks which were there already, and making the passage more difficult and perilous. These great masses were continually in motion, cracking, and hissing, and whirling, threatening to overwhelm everything with which they came in contact. To escape through these appeared, humanly speaking, impossible. The last glimmer of hope vanished.

And still the arm of the Almighty was upon the waters, and guided them through all these dangers in a manner which, to any one who knows the place, will seem little short of miraculous. Now the villagers on the banks could descry the unfortunate strugglers, but, like those on the banks of the Maine, could only accompany their route with tears. Help could they afford none.

Now they moved along slowly, very slowly, since the masses of ice every moment wedged them in more closely. They tried to recover some degree of warmth by rubbing their hands, heating their arms together, and walking up and down the planks as fast as they could. But their pangs of hunger increased, and so their strength diminished and threatened to be altogether exhausted.

As they passed through the narrow passage of the river at the Pfalz, near Caub, a rope thrown out would have reached them, and so they could have been drawn to the shore; but, alas! just in this part the walls of ice were so high that it was impossible to see the raft as it passed through, and they were too feeble to call out so as to make themselves heard.

The people on the shore did not descry them until the raft had passed into a broader part of the stream and was out of their reach. And now night began to fall--the second night-more horrible than the first. Their only prayer was for a speedy release from their agonizing position. The raft went more slowly, as the ice was closer. Where they were going they did not know. Once or twice, one or other, overpowered and exhausted, dozed for a while until awakened by the feelings of hunger, or by the shock of the raft as it struck against a piece of ice, or by the kindness of his companions, who feared lest he should sleep the sleep of death.

The night became colder and colder, darker and more comfortless; and now their minds, thinking no longer of preservation from their danger, turned in fond remembrance towards their distant homes and the dear ones they had left there. Many a tear would have turned into ice had it not been brushed away by their beaumbed hands. And murmuring thoughts by one of them were vented in the expression, "Has God, who is merciful to all whom He has created, forgotten us only?" It was the speech of one of the young men, but did not pass without rebuke from Fenner, who as the eldest was the weakest and the most exhausted. "Speak not thus profanely," he said; "hold on still in faith and patience until the ever-gracious God come with his help, be it for life or death. Thou hast no one at home for whom thou needest especially be anxious. But see me, I have a wife and child at home; and my son, their only earthly support when I am removed, stands in like peril with myself. But God forbid that I should murmur at his dispensations! Let Him do with us what seemeth Him good." "Amen!" replied his companions, moved by the faith of the old

man.

At length the darkness of the second night was passing away. Morning began to dawn. Their inflamed eyes tried to recognize the objects on the banks. But at present they could not do this on account of the thick fog. When this dispersed a little, they could see the tops of the Seven Mountains right before them; they were close to Bonn. They rushed past Nonnexwörth; they were now at the foot of the Seven Mountains, and there were the towers of Bonn visible. But they were far too exhausted

and stupefied to be moved by anything. They had in the past night closed their account with this life.

They were seen from Königswinter and from Bonn, but it was impossible, even for a moment, to entertain any hope of saving them. Prayers accompanied their passage, and streaming eyes were strained after them.

Bonn now vanished from their sight. Only the Seven Mountains stood before their wearied, sorrowful gaze. The first rays of the sun were just shining on its heights. They looked up, but did not observe that here the Rhine had overflowed the land to a wide extent. They little imagined that to this circumstance, under God, they would owe their preservation. The stream decreased in force, as it was spread over so great a surface. Suddenly a shock was felt which threw some of them down on the raft.

"What is that?" cried the old Fenner, jumping up and looking round.

"The raft is fast and quite still," cried his son. "Great God, we are saved!" As if awakening from a deep sleep, they all sprang up to convince themselves that this was true, and not a cruel bitter deception.

It was true indeed-the raft had stuck fast in the ground, and not far from the place where it stood was dry meadow-land. The stream had overflowed its banks, and the raft had got diverted out of the main channel into the shallow water of the flood, and so stuck fast in the ground. Thus were they saved. It would be vain to attempt to depict the feelings of these poor men at this moment. But one feeling was all-powerful in all the four. They fell on their knees and thanked the merciful God whose arm had been with them and over them, and who had so wonderfully saved their lives. But a new alarm shocks them. The old Fenner, whose feelings had been most wrought on, still on his knees, sank down. His companions hurry to him to raise him up. But his eye is closed. His spirit had departed. A heartseizure had ended his life. He had borne the fear and the anxiety with Christian faith. He had drunk the cup of trembling to the dregs. Joy broke his heart. Yet still was it a rich mercy that he so died. He breathed out his soul on his knees as he was thanking God. Could he have died more happily after such a scene and in such a way? His hands were still clasped in prayer. They remained so in his coffin.