“But it didn’t long offend any man’s sight--over heaven and sea the cloud opened and spread. Lightning and thunders burst from the heart of the ocean, and sheets of flame glared luridly the sides of Cosequina. The darkness spread so quick, that at Leon, two hundred miles away, they were lighting the church candles within an hour after the outbreak. But candles, nor torches, nor houses aflame couldn’t disperse that darkness. For three days no soul in Leon saw another’s face, nor ventured out but to the howling churches, to grovel there. Night dragged after night, but no day shone over the land. A lighted torch could not be seen at arm’s length! The ashes fell softly and silently, till buildings crushed down headlong with the weight. Tigers were in the churches, and panthers entered house doors in search of companionship and protection. Hundreds committed suicide in their madness, and hundreds more became simple for life. Men’s faces were blistered by the hot winds; the paint fell from the statues; the crash of falling, and the faint light of burning houses doubled the horror of darkness. Such a time as that was never seen on earth since the plague of Egypt, I guess! “But of course the most awful work was around the Gulf of Fonseca. The water rose in waves twenty feet high, dashed over the Estero, and swept off the towns of Playa Grande and Nagascolo, slick as a prairie fire. Scarce a soul escaped for twenty miles about. The cattle crushed over the barrancas in search of water, and were destroyed in herds of thousands at a time; for none could see, nor hear, nor breathe. Rivers were dried by the heat, and choked with ashes; forests burned up; the very grass withered throughout the whole length and breadth of Nicaragua, and hasn’t sprung since. _Sacate_ (‘a broad flag-like blade’) alone escaped, and the country which was once the grazing land of Central America was ruined till eternity, for that business. “During this time of death, as they still call it, at Balize, one thousand miles away, the commandant called out the garrison, and kept them under arms twenty-four hours, thinking all the navies in the universe were at action in the offing. There ’twas too dark to see fifty yards oceanwards. The roar of Cosequina was heard miles around, spreading fear and perplexity. Four thousand miles in radius the ashes fell; they lay on the roofs at San Francisco, California. “Well, the mountain’s behaved like a decent sort of powder-cask ever since. The fuse has always been burning and spitting; but you see there’s a big consumption of power in such a burst, and I guess the old machine wants to recuperate awhile.” Those familiar with the terrific effects produced on the gunners by the discharge of heavy artillery, can understand that the atmospheric concussion produced by tremendous volcanic explosions might kill large numbers of birds and small animals in the vicinity.