The day had been one of rare beauty. A soft and caressing breeze had kissed the sea and rocked the waves in a harmonious symphony against the steel-ribbed sides of the world’s largest, greatest and most luxurious floating palace, the majestic Titanic, the newest addition to the trans-Atlantic fleet of the White Star Line of the International Navigation Company. The star-sprinkled dome of heaven and the phosphorescent sea alike breathed forth peace, quiet and security. Despite the lateness of the hour, aboard the Titanic all was animation. A few, to be sure, had wearied of Nature’s marvels and had sought their slumber, but the gorgeous quarters of the first cabin and the scarcely less pretentious sections set apart for second class passengers were alike teeming with life and light. Meanwhile, as they had for days past, the mighty engines of this monster of the sea pulsed and throbbed, while the rhythmic beat of the Titanic’s great bronze-bladed propellors churned up a fast and steadily lengthening wake behind the speeded vessel. “We’ll break the record today,” her officers laughed, and the passengers gleefully shared their mirth. A record; a record! And a record she made--but of death and destruction! But who could know? And since no mortal could, why not eat, drink and be merry? Britain’s shores had been left behind far back across the waste of waters. America, the land of hope, was almost in sight ahead. TALK OF HOME AND FRIENDS AND LIFE. Small wonder that hundreds still strolled the Titanic’s spotless, unsullied decks and talked of home and friends and life and joy and hope. Small wonder that other hundreds lounged at ease in her luxurious saloons and smoking rooms, while other scores of voyagers, their appetites whetted by the invigorating air, sat at a midnight supper to welcome the new week with a feast. Why sleep when the wealth, the beauty, the brains, the aristocracy as well as the bone and sinew of a nation were all around one? For, be it known, never before did ship carry so distinguished a company--a passenger list that reads like a Social Blue Book. This maiden trip of the Titanic was an event that was to go down in history, they thought. And so it will, but with tears on every page of the narrative and the wails of women and children in every syllable. But since the future is unrolled only in God’s own good time, how could they know? Why wonder at their presence? Was this not the first trip of the greatest triumph of marine architecture? Had not the wealth and fashion of two continents so arranged their plans as to be numbered on its first passenger list? Had not the hardy immigrant skimped and saved and schemed that he and his family should be carried to the Land of Promise aboard this greatest of all ships?