To the ravage of the hurricane, the roar of the storm, the surge of the sea, the rush of the flood, one becomes in a measure accustomed, and in the moment of danger may take precautions for personal safety. But in the case of earthquakes the reverse is the rule; none dread them more than those who know them best. The stranger in tropical America may sit at his ease on a summer evening, enjoying the beauties of the landscape; or he may stand in a crowded hall, amongst a galaxy of wits and beauties, observing the kaleidoscopic movements of the gorgeous costumes before him. There comes a faint peculiar quiver of the earth, so insignificant that the uninitiated foreigner may hardly observe it: but there goes up a wild shout of “Tembla! Tembla!” and in an instant a terror-stricken, breathless throng surges wildly into the streets, the fields, the parks--anywhere: anywhere away from the heavy roofs and massive walls that would defy a hurricane; all blindly seeking to be under the open sky, only too often to be engulfed in gaping crevices. It is preternaturally terrible; this emblem of solidity quivering beneath our feet, reminding us that the days of unbridled chaos, the wild war of all the elements, the tremendous geological convulsions that have exterminated so many races of animals in the days of the past, may be as ready and powerful for destruction in the present! The sensation of utter powerlessness is so overwhelming, that amid the crash of falling houses, the cries of entombed victims, the shrieks of flying multitudes, the rumblings in the earth beneath, and the trembling of the soil like that of a steed in the presence of a lion, the boldest and bravest can but sit with bowed head, in silent, motionless despair, awaiting whatever fate a grim capricious chance may determine. In the strange mysterious phenomena, which strike and do their work in a few seconds, one is disposed to see the disturbing dreams of fever, or the touch of a horrible nightmare, rather than any possible reality.