This is one of the many incidents that might be cited to show that our enemies are not sincere in opposing our doctrines. I firmly believe that many people who hear the gospel preached have an inward conviction of its truth; but the love of riches and popularity with the fear of their friends deserting them and the frowns of the world, in many instances, cause their love to grow cold and they smother their convictions and become our enemies. On this subject the Lord has said, "Every ear shall hear and every heart _shall_ be penetrated." I think both occur at the same time; that there may be a time in the future when they will feel it much stronger, when it is too late to benefit them, I also admit; for they will even seek death and not be able to find it. Among the passengers was a young man, son of an Irish widow, who lived in Dublin, Ireland. Becoming consumptive, he went to New York for his health. Growing worse, he decided to return and die in the land of his fathers, and have a tender mother's care to soothe his last hours. But, alas, when the land-breeze struck him, the night before we sighted land, he expired, and was buried in the sea. We sailed along at the rate of about ten miles per hour until about seven o'clock in the evening when the sky was suddenly darkened by a thick fog, a contrary wind arose and simultaneously with it a brig struck our ship's stern, took off her helm or rudder, got tangled in her rigging and took off her top-mast and top-sail and damaged her generally. The brig's rudder was also taken away by our ship, and she was so damaged that her captain asked permission to lash her to our ship, but our captain replied that his ship was so badly damaged that he dared not allow it. A wail went up from the little craft that they would all go to the bottom. They were soon out of our sight. The wind and fog continued, and Captain Williams, of the _Ashburton_, lay drunk in his cabin, most of the time. There was but one man on board who understood the channel in which we were sailing. And he was mate of another vessel of the same line (the "Black Ball"), which sailed previous to ours. He was on a spree when his ship left New York, and, although an excellent officer, could not be induced for love or money to go on board until "he had had it out." Being over his drunken spree he entered our ship, the control of which, during our last calamity, was intrusted entirely to him. Our only method of guiding the ship was by a rope tied to the corner of the main sail and pulling it from one side to the other. To do this required the assistance of all the passengers and for three days and nights we barely escaped being dashed to pieces on the rocks which abounded all around us. Finally we succeeded in landing in Belfast harbor. Here we left our ship waiting repairs and took steamer for Liverpool, where we arrived a few hours later. The brig we came in contact with was wrecked on the coast of the Isle of Man, but no lives were lost.