wildly about looking for their relatives. Others were on their knees, some lying prone on their faces, crying to Our Lord to be merciful and save them. I helped to drag a few people from under the ruins, and then made my way to the Club.
"To my dismay I found it was almost demolished. The roof had fallen in, and the dining-room in which we had lunched was a mass of ruins, being full of bricks and stone. Then I met a young fellow, hatless and coatless, with a handkerchief tied round his head. I could not at first make out who it was talking to me. Something then struck me, and I asked, 'Are you Gerald Loder?' and he said, 'Yes.' Of course he was a very old friend of mine, having sat with me in the House of Commons for several years. He took me round to the back of the building and showed me a poor fellow who had been pinned under a huge pillar. It was impossible to extricate him. His young and pretty wife threw herself on his dead body and embraced him. She was gently raised, but her dress was covered with his blood. Her reason had fled, and the utterances of strong men were choked in trying to express to her their sympathy. Three days after the poor lady, a great favourite, had not recovered.
"At the same time, on the parapet of the second floor, we saw the oldest member of the Club. We assisted him down with a ladder. He, like Mr Gerald Loder, had been writing in the writing-room when the roof fell in. Mr Loder's escape was marvellous. The chair in which he was sitting saved his life. The roof fell in and by some means his coat was pinned to the chair, and he could not get out without leaving his coat behind.
"Another remarkable incident took place. A lady passenger in our steamer had gone to her dressmaker's to have a new dress tried on for the Governor's Ball. It was on the second floor of the dressmaker's, and she
