"It is with feelings of deep deep gratitude that I address you, and trust you will pardon my seeming intrusion. I am simply doing what a vast number of widows and fatherless would endorse. Thank you for taking the part of the sailors, to whom the nation at large owe so much and care for so little. Two years ago I lost my dear husband; he left me to join a splendid steamer called the________, and there were on that same vessel men of tender loving hearts, and upright minds—thirty-seven of the men went into eternity. God only knows how bitter it is to part from those dear as life itself, waiting to hear the old step again, waiting to see the happy manly face, and to hear the voice once more, but waiting in vain, for they have had the bright eyes closed in death, not by loving hands at home, but amid the angry billows, far from those who would gladly have saved them from such a cruel end.

"I have not read your book, but have heard about it; it would only intensify a sorrow bitter enough at times. I can only say I know the truth and justice of the cause you set forth, and hope it will meet with the sympathy it demands. One could more fully submit to the loss of friends when all has been done for them, when no fault of carelessness is left to haunt the soul after; but England has permitted men to go to sea in rotten vessels. What is the consequence? Every winter numbers of brave strong men find a watery grave, and all that is left for the poor widows and children is a little sympathy, unless it be in the case of a Captain or Northfleet—then it goes far enough to help as well as pity. How do we act on shore when danger or disease overtakes us? We take every precaution, use the means, then leave the rest to God. But people are in the habit of speaking as if all the loss of life at sea ought to be expected. We know that God holds the waters in the hollow of His hands. He raiseth the stormy wind; but are we to charge Him with what man does? I do not, and how much pain it would save the childless mother, the widow and fatherless, did they but know that all care had been taken of the loved and lost. Your work cannot recall those who are gone, cannot bring back my husband and home, but there are others now on the deep who will thank you for spared lives, and many a tender woman will unite with me in thanking you. May God grant that the interest now awakened may not subside as it has before! For two years I have prayed that some one would come forth, and I have faith to believe that not only something may be done, but all that will ensure the safety of those who leave homo and loved ones to ply the great deep. If they are taken, then we as a nation could say the Lord hath taken.

"Pardon my writing. God knows what I feel; may He bless and help you in your work is the prayer of