Mr. Richmond read the letter which a fellow merchant in a distant city
had written, and which referred incidentally to the sinking of a ship in
the English Channel. Unknown to the merchant, this ship had been the one
on which George Acton was to have taken passage.

This sad news stunned Mr. Richmond, but he tried to reassure his friend,
and said: "Perhaps your son is among the saved, or possibly he may not
have embarked, owing to some business delay."

"You certainly do kindle a faint spark of hope in my heart, my dear
Richmond, but I fear it will be extinguished. Let us lose no time in
getting all the information we can." He rang, and said to the servant
who answered: "Go at once and send this telegram." Then taking up the
evening newspaper his eye glanced hurriedly over column after column,
and finally he read that the ship Neptune had been sunk, and that eleven
persons had been rescued, but no names had been reported.

Between hope and fear, the next day passed. He summoned all his courage
and waited anxiously for an answer to his telegram.

All the neighbors, in fact all the people of the town, held Mr. Acton
and his son in the highest esteem, and they awaited the news of George
Acton's fate in dread suspense. At last the answer arrived: "George was
numbered among the passengers on board, but not among those rescued."

Poor Mr. Acton was so overcome that his eyes held no tears. With dumb
grief he shut himself up in his room to find his comfort in God, alone.

Several days later, there came to Mr. Acton's house an old sailor, who
had been on the ill-fated vessel, and who could give an accurate account