Dear Father and Mother,
I have had a terrible experience, one that I shall never forget as long as I live. I seemed to have a presentiment that something would happen to the boat I was going to sail on. I enjoyed the first part of the voyage immensely. I had not been sea-sick all the voyage. I am now only suffering from shock and exposure to intense cold, with scarcity of clothing. I was writing a postcard the night that the boat struck the iceberg. It was about 11.30 p.m. I got out of bed and put my coat on and went out on deck and asked the steward what was the matter. He told me it was only the engines stopped, and ordered all the women back to bed. But I did not go. I shared a cabin with an American lady and child. I assisted them to dress, and then we went up on deck. We tried to reach the boats. Then I saw two fellows (whom we met at meals, the only men we made real friends of) coming towards us, who assisted us over the railings into the lifeboat. As we were being lowered a man about 16 stone jumped into the boat almost on top of me. I heard a pistol fired-I believe it was done to frighten the men from rushing the boat. This man's excuse was that he came because of his baby. When we rowed off the child must have died had I not attended to it.
We were rowing for several hours. I seemed to have extra strength that night to keep up my nerves, for I even made them laugh when I told them we had escaped vaccination, for we were all to have been vaccinated that day (meaning the Monday). I will say no more of that awful row, except that I was able to fix the rope round the women for them to be pulled up on the Carpathia while the men steadied the boat-the women seemed quite stupefied-yet when I was safe myself, I was the first to break down.
The sight on board was awful, with raving women-barely six women were saved who could say they had not lost a relative. Oh! the widows the Titanic has made! The last three days have been terrible. I attended to a woman [Mrs R. Abbott] who was picked up on a raft with four men. The latter died, but she lived. She has lost two sons on the Titanic. Their cabin was next to mine. She was the last woman I spoke to on the ship's deck. I am staying in a Woman's League Hotel, but I am quite well, and these people are fitting me up with clothes. I have telegraphed to Grace but have not yet received a reply. I long now to be with her. I will not write again until I am safe in Newhaven [sic]. Don't you think I have been lucky throughout?

I remain your loving Daughter
AMY
P.S. I nearly lost the boat at Southampton.

Private funeral services for Mrs Amy E. Tanner, 66, of 60 Eliza St., will be held Monday at 2 P.M. at the Bailey-Shippee Funeral Home, 417 Plainfield St. Burial will be in Oakland Cemetery, Cranston.

Mrs Tanner, wife of Eugene S. Tanner, died Thursday at Rhode Island Hospital after a short illness.

Born in Oxford, England, Jan. 4, 1889 [sic], a daughter of Mr and Mrs Thomas Stanley, she had been a resident of Providence 38 years. She was a communicant of the Church of the Messiah, Episcopal.

Mrs Tanner was a survivor of the Titanic disaster.

Besides her husband, survivors are two sons, Alfred S. of Cranston and Eugene S. Tanner, Jr. of Warwick, and three grandchildren.