isfied that there would be at least a period of negotiations preceding any bombardment, the result of which, it was not doubted, would be a compromise. It was curiosity which filled up the business offices half an hour earlier than usual—and curiosity it was that carried the employees by thousands to the roofs for a look at the Kaiser's dreadnoughts.
But when that first 12-inch shell flashed from the flagship, and went roaring overhead across the skies to burst in the Woolworth Tower, curiosity gave place to fear and fear to panic. From the roof to the floors below the fleeing crowd of clerks and stenographers ran, shouting that the Germans were bombarding the city. Every office floor disgorged its occupants, and a growing crowd rushed for the elevators and filled the stairways. Out of the entrance of every building there surged a human flood, and the waters of this inunda-
