There the oak chests of the Provincial Cashier were opened for the sorting of the canvas bags that contained the valuables, the letters and the identifying trinkets of the dead. It was all very systematic. It was all very much businesslike, and while a lunch counter served refreshments to the weary workers, and while the Intercolonial set up a desk for railway tickets, the Medical Examiner was busy issuing death certificates, and the Registrar was issuing burial permits, all to the accompanying click, click of several typewriters. A satisfactory arrangement was reached as to the disposition of the personal effects. A man would claim his dead, take the number, make his way to the representatives of the Provincial Secretary, and there claim the contents of the little canvas bag by making affidavit that he was the duly authorized representative of the executor or next of kin. The little crimson tickets that are the death certificates were printed for the tragedies of every day in the year. Their formal points and dimensions seemed hopelessly inadequate for even the briefest statement of the tragedy of the Titanic. CERTIFICATE FOR THE DEAD. The first body claimed and removed from the rink was that of John Jacob Astor. The certificate, the first issued for one of the Titanic dead, reads: Name of deceased--John Jacob Astor. Sex--M. Age--47. Date of death--April 15, 1912. Residence, street, etc.--840 Fifth Av. N. Y. C. Occupation--Gentleman. Married. Cause--Accidental drowning. S. S. Titanic at sea. Length of illness--Suddenly. Name of physician in attendance. Such details as these filled the day. After the greater part of the Titanic’s dead had been shifted from the Mackay-Bennett to the pier, Captain Lardner descended to the dining saloon, and with the reporters from all over the country gathered around the table, he opened the ship’s log and, slowly tracing his fingers over the terse entries, he told them the story of the death ship’s voyage. Lardner is English by birth and accent, and tall and square of build, with a full brown beard and eyes of unusual keenness. “We left Halifax,” he began, “shortly after noon on Wednesday, April 17, but fog and bad weather delayed us on the run out, and we did not get there till Saturday night at 8 o’clock. “We asked all ships to report to us if they passed any wreckage or bodies, and on Saturday at noon we received a communication from the German mailboat steamship Rhein to the effect that in latitude 42.1. N. longitude 49.13, she had passed wreckage and bodies. “The course was shaped for that position. Later in the afternoon we spoke to the German steamship Bremen, and they reported having passed three large icebergs and some bodies in 42 N. 49.20 W. “We arrived on the scene at 8 o’clock Saturday evening, and then we stopped and let the ship drift. It was in the middle of the watch that some of the wreckage and a few bodies were sighted.