From the _Carpathia_ a rope forming a tiny swing was lowered into our lifeboat, and one by one we were drawn into safety. The lady pulled up just ahead of me was very large, and I felt myself being jerked fearfully, when I heard some one say: “Careful, fellers; she’s a lightweight.” I bumped and bumped against the side of the ship until I felt like a bag of meal. My hands were so cold I could hardly hold on to the rope, and I was fearful of letting go. Again I heard: “Steady, fellers; not so fast!” I felt I should let go and bounce out of the ropes; I hardly think that would have been possible, but I felt so at the time. At last I found myself at an opening of some kind and there a kind doctor wrapped me in a warm rug and led me to the dining room, where warm stimulants were given us immediately and everything possible was done for us all. Lifeboats kept coming in, and heart-rending was the sight as widow after widow was brought aboard. Each hoped some lifeboat ahead of hers might have brought her husband safely to this waiting vessel. But always no. I was still so cold that I had to get a towel and tie it around my waist. Then I went back to the dining-room and found dear little Louis,[28] the French baby, lying alone; his cold, bare feet had become unwrapped. I put a hot water bottle against this very beautiful boy. He smiled his thanks. [28] One of the Navratil children whose pathetic story has been fully related in the newspapers. Knowing how much better I felt after taking the hot stimulant, I tried to get others to take something; but often they just shook their heads and said, “Oh, I can’t.” Towards night we remembered we had nothing--no comb, brush, nothing of any kind--so we went to the barber-shop. The barber always has everything, but now he had only a few toothbrushes left. I bought a cloth cap of doubtful style; and felt like a walking orphan asylum, but very glad to have anything to cover my head. There were also a few showy silk handkerchiefs left. On the corner of each was embroidered in scarlet, “From a friend.” These we bought and we were now fitted out for our three remaining days at sea. Patiently through the dismal, foggy days we lived, waiting for land and possible news of the lost. For the brave American man, a heart full of gratitude, too deep for words, sends out a thanksgiving. That such men are born, live and die for others is a cause for deep gratitude. What country could have shown such men as belong to our American manhood? Thank God for them and for their noble death. EMERGENCY BOAT NO. 1.[29] [29] This was the fourth boat to leave the starboard side. No disorder in loading or lowering this boat. _Passengers:_ Lady Duff Gordon and maid (Miss Francatelli). _Men:_ Lord Duff Gordon and Messrs. Solomon and Stengel.