Then came a scene scarcely less heartrending. With an energy, activity, and stern determination of purpose, which are among the wise and merciful provisions of the Almighty, twenty-seven children, all girls, were immediately rescued alive on the West side of the river, and as instantly put to bed at the “Vauxhall Gardens,” who as soon as revived were replaced by others equally beneficially spared, or by some never to be recalled. Some scrambled out and rushed home to their own houses, not a few fainting after arriving safe at home. On the East side numbers of bodies were taken into the adjoining houses, where all the assistance which medical skill, humane attention, in short all the aid which humanity would teach everyone to offer, was brought to bear. Alas how often in vain. In one house alone, at nine o’clock at night, out of sixty-eight bodies carried in only three were revived. Many a touching scene was witnessed as the anxious mother, and the hardly less excited father or friend, recognised some missing one safely emerging from the crowd. Thousands thronged the North Quay—messengers were despatched in all directions to procure medical aid, and the communication with the West side of the water being cut off, hundreds were left in painful suspense respecting those who were safe on the opposite shore. Nothing could exceed the promptitude, activity, and attention of the surgeons and medical men of the town, all of whom were in immediate attendance doing all they could to afford relief to the sufferers, where the slightest chance of resuscitation appeared. Mr. Lacon and a number of the persons employed in his brewery were exceedingly active in supplying hot water for baths, which is not far distant. All the blankets from the Union House that could possibly be spared were in requisition. The scene now presented is still most agonising. Children, mothers, and fathers, seeking one or other of their families, tracing and discovering in the pale face of some of the dead, one of their dearest ties. In every street are to be seen one or more bodies extended on biers, returning to that home from which but short minutes before they had passed in health and life. The consternation—the agony of the town is not to be described—it is as if some dread punishment was felt to have fallen upon its inhabitants—every face is horror-stricken—every eye is dim.