The one alleviating circumstance in the otherwise unmitigable tragedy is the fact that the men stood aside and insisted that the women and the children should first have places in the boats. There were men whose word of command swayed boards of directors, governed institutions, disposed of millions. They were accustomed merely to pronounce a wish to have it gratified. Thousands “posted at their bidding;” the complexion of the market altered hue when they nodded; they bought what they wanted, and for one of the humblest fishing smacks or a dory they could have given the price that was paid to build and launch the ship that has become the most imposing mausoleum that ever housed the bones of men since the Pyramids rose from the desert sands. But these men stood aside--one can see them--and gave place not merely to the delicate and the refined, but to the scared Czech woman from the steerage, with her baby at her breast; the Croatian with a toddler by her side, coming through the very gate of Death and out of the mouth of Hell to the imagined Eden of America. HARDER TO GO THAN TO STAY. To many of those who went it was harder to go than to stay there on the vessel gaping with its mortal wounds and ready to go down. It meant that tossing on the waters they must wait in suspense, hour after hour even after the lights of the ship were engulfed in appalling darkness, hoping against hope for the miracle of a rescue dearer to them than their own lives. It was the tradition of Anglo-Saxon heroism that was fulfilled in the frozen seas during the black hours of that Sunday night. The heroism was that of the women who went, as well as of the men who remained. The most adequate story of the terrible disaster is told by a trained newspaper man, who was on the Carpathia. He says: Cause, responsibility and similar questions regarding the stupendous disaster will be taken up in time by the British marine authorities. No disposition has been shown by any survivor to question the courage of the crew, hundreds of whom saved others and gave their own lives with a heroism which equaled, but could not exceed, that of John Jacob Astor, Henry B. Harris, Jacques Futrelle and others in the long list of the first cabin missing. Facts which I have established by inquiries on the Carpathia, as positively as they could be established in view of the silence of the few surviving officers, are: That the Titanic’s officers knew, several hours before the crash, of the possible nearness of icebergs. That the Titanic’s speed, nearly twenty-three knots an hour, was not slackened. INSUFFICIENT LIFE-BOATS.