The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-04-19
M0URNFUL AND TRAGIC SCENES AS SORROW LADEN CARPATH|A
 ENDS ITS MISSION OF RESCUE

New York April 19-Grim, misty silence, today, shrouded the Carpa- thia, ambulance of the sea, as she lay at her dock, her work of rescue done.
 Where last night women, insane with horror, voiced their anguish in hide ous shrieks today soft footed sailOr- men calmly prepared the Carpathia for her interrupted Mediterranean tour on which she will start again this afternoon. Where, last night, the sobbing of strong men sounded through the darkness as they tender survivors, today, burly stevedores hustled bales and barrels to fill the holds emptied when the ships rescue trip interrupted her voyage.
 Passengers. captains and crew of the Carpathia, relieved of their bur- den of rescue slept late today. All were worn and weary by five days Of caring for terror -demented men and women which reached the climax in the task of getting the stricken sur vivors ashore. It was we'll into this morning before the last of the more than TOO Titanic survivors left the Carpathia They were the steerage passengers and cared for by charit able organizations they were taken to the city lodging houses.
 The Cunard Line was extremely an- xious to get the Carpathia under way again as soon as possible and although orders had been issued by the govern ment officials to allow no one on the pier. a score of dray, loaded with supplies. awaited at the gates shortly after dawn
 Captain Rostron. after a conference with the officials of the lines, had decided that he could have his ship prepared to sail again at 4, this af- ternoon. and every effort was made to assist him.
 To this end, all of the survivors, even those seriously injured or i'll, were taken off before the pier clos ed for the night. No one but the pas remained aboard.
 When the pier. opened all on board the rescue ship organized buying par ties to replace the wardrobe of pas sengers and crew who had stripped themselves to clothe the almost nak- ed survivors picked up in the icy seas
 The landing of the Carpathia, last scene in one of the worlds great trag- edies, followed no playwright's rules in the staging of its drama of broken hearts.
 A little group of people, perhaps 300 possibly 400, was drawn up around the canopied gangp1ank- Up and down the huge Cunard pier were other groups of men and women, standing silent or corversing on different things.
 A little florid man. chewing a cigar nervously, stood behind the line of custom house officers that had form ed to give room for survivors to pass the crowds.
 II have five on board,'' he was say ing. "I don't know if they're all alive. I can't tell. They've taken their names of the lists and put them on again-'' The chugging of tueboat sounded from out in the
  North River The little fiorid man went white.
 Ny God" he said. It was the only exclamation from that straining group. The churning of the tug was now clearly audible and a foot or two of space on each side of the canopy gave room to see outside. A long brown spar protruded across the open ings. The mast moved silently by. Then the white bow of the Cunarder glided past A man was smoking a cigar aboard. They're smoking" half shrieked a woman who had stood waiting motionless, for three long hours.
 Solid rows of faces could be seen moving past the opening as the Car outer darkness no one countenance was distinguishable. Their lighted cigars glowed in the moss of human ity on the boat.
 s1 guess there are lots of them still able to smoke" began a man and then stopped.
 My sister was drowned he add ed, after a moment, as though in apology.
 At. last the gangplank was swung aboard Dr. Henry F1auenthal, dis tinguished New York surgeon, was the first survivor of the Titanic to step ashore. His red beard was neat ly combed. His shoes, coat, and hat all bespoke careful attention. He nodded, smiling, to right and left and strolled. with his young bride beside him, toward the exit. He might have been alighting from a ferryboat after a day in Jersey City.
 After him came a young woman. Her hair was loosened, her face was flushed and her eyes were wolIen with weeping. She wore odds and ends of clothing picked up from among the Carpathia's passengers She walked straight into the midst of the crowd. Then she stopped Her hands went out before her and her fingers clutched her hair. The cords in the thin wrist stood out like strings on a violin. Without a sob, without a cfy, she staggered headlong into the arms of an elderly woman who stood waiting and wilted in quiet heap upon the floor. By now the passeng- CTS were coming off in streams. Few of them wore their proper clothing
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