It was such a feeling as this, from all accounts, which caused John Jacob Astor and his wife to refuse the places offered them in the first boat, and to retire to the gymnasium. In the same way, H. J. Allison, Montreal banker, laughed at the warning, and his wife, reassured by him, took her time about dressing. They and their daughter did not reach the Carpathia. Their son, less than two years old, was carried into a lifeboat by his nurse, and was taken in charge by Major Arthur Peuchen. ADMIRATION AND CONFIDENCE. The admiration felt by passengers and crew for the matchlessly appointed vessel was translated, in those first few moments, into a confidence which for some proved deadly. In the loading of the first boat restrictions of sex were not made, and it seemed to the men who piled in beside the women that there would be boats enough for all. But the ship’s officers knew better than this, and as the spreading fear caused an earnest advance toward the suspended craft, the order, “Women first!” was heard, and the men were pushed aside. To the scenes of the next two hours on those decks and in the waters below, such adjectives as “dramatic” and “tragic” do but poor justice. With the knowledge of deadly peril gaining greater power each moment over those men and women, the nobility of the greater part, both among cabin passengers, officers, crew and steerage, asserted itself. Isidor Straus, supporting his wife on her way to a lifeboat, was held back by an inexorable guard. Another officer strove to help her to a seat of safety, but she brushed away his arm and clung to her husband, crying, “I will not go without you.” Another woman took her place, and her form, clinging to her husband’s, became part of a picture now drawn indelibly in many minds. Neither wife nor husband reached a place of safety. Colonel Astor, holding his young wife’s arm, stood decorously aside as the officers spoke to him, and Mrs. Astor and her maid were ushered to seats. Mrs. Henry B. Harris, parted in like manner from her husband, saw him last at the rail, beside Colonel Astor. Walter M. Clark, of Los Angeles, nephew of the Montana Senator, joined the line of men as his young wife, sobbing, was placed in one of the boats. AN AGONIZING SEPARATION. “Let him come! There is room!” cried Mrs. Emil Taussig as the men of the White Star Line motioned to her husband to leave her. It was with difficulty that he released her hold to permit her to be led to her place. George D. Widener, who had been in Captain Smith’s company a few moments after the crash, was another whose wife was parted from him and lowered a moment later to the surface of the calm sea.