It is impossible to contemplate the effects which followed the great earthquake—the passage of a sea-wave of enormous volume over fully one-third of the earth’s surface, and the force with which, at the farthermost limits of its range, the wave rolled in upon shores more than 10,000 miles from its starting-place—without feeling that those geologists are right who deny that the subterranean forces of the earth are diminishing in intensity. It may be difficult, perhaps, to look on the effects which are ascribed to ancient earth-throes without imagining for a while that the power of modern earthquakes is altogether less. But when we consider fairly the share which time had in those ancient processes of change, when we see that while mountain ranges were being upheaved or valleys depressed to their present position, race after race and type after type appeared on the earth, and lived out the long lives which belong to races and to types, we are recalled to the remembrance of the great work which the earth’s subterranean forces are still engaged upon. Even now continents are being slowly depressed or upheaved, even now mountain ranges are being raised to a new level, table-lands are in process of formation, and great valleys are being gradually scooped out. It may need an occasional outburst such as the earthquake of August 1868 to remind us that great forces are at work beneath the earth’s surface. But, in reality, the signs of change have long been noted. Old shore-lines shift their place, old soundings vary; the sea advances in one place and retires in another; on every side Nature’s plastic hand is at work modelling and remodelling the earth, in order that it may always be a fit abode for those who are to dwell upon it. (From _Fraser’s Magazine_, July 1870.) _THE USEFULNESS OF EARTHQUAKES._ We have lately had fearful evidence of the energy of the earth’s internal forces. A vibration which, when considered with reference to the dimensions of the earth’s globe, may be spoken of as an indefinitely minute quivering limited to an insignificant area, has sufficed to destroy the cities and villages of whole provinces, to cause the death of thousands of human beings, and to effect a destruction of property which must be estimated by millions of pounds sterling. Such a catastrophe as this serves indeed to show how poor and weak a creature man is in presence of the grand workings of Nature. The mere throes which accompany her unseen subterranean efforts suffice to crumble man’s strongest buildings in a moment into dust, while the unfortunate inhabitants are either crushed to death among the ruins, or forced to remain shuddering spectators of the destruction of their homes.