"In 1873, March 20th, I left Liverpool in the steamship Atlantic, then bound for New York. On the 13th day, the 1st of April, we went on the rocks near Halifax, Nova Scotia. Out of nearly 1,000 human beings, 580 were frozen to death or drowned.
"The first day out from Liverpool some ladies at my table discovered that we were thirteen, and in their consternation requested their gentleman-companion to move to another table. Out of the entire thirteen, I was the only one that was saved. I was asked at the time if I did not believe in the unlucky number thirteen. I told them I did not. In this case the believers were all lost and the unbeliever saved.
"Out of the first-cabin passengers saved, I was one of the thirteen saved.
"At the North-Western Hotel, in Liverpool, there can be found thirteen names in the book of passengers that left in the Atlantic on the 20th of March, 1873, for New York; amongst them my own. Every one of those passengers except myself were lost.
"Now, if these memorandums about the number thirteen—by one that does not believe in it—is of any interest to you, it will please me very much.
"I am, yours very truly,
"N. Brandt.
"9, Kongens Gade."
It is absurd to say that I have been unlucky since presiding at that dinner. On the contrary, I have been most lucky—I have never presided at another!
