Similar catastrophes, in which thousands and thousands of victims were suddenly destroyed, have frequently occurred in Peru and Chili, in the West Indies and Central America, in the Moluccas and Java, in the countries bordering on the Mediterranean and the Red Sea; but a bare mention of the loss of life conveys but a faint idea of the extent of misery inflicted by one of those great earthquakes which mark with an ominous shade many large tracts of the earth’s surface. We must picture to ourselves the slow lingering death which is the fate of many—some buried alive, others burnt in the fire which almost invariably bursts out in a city where hundreds of dwellings have suddenly been laid prostrate—the numbers who escaped with loss of limbs or serious bodily injuries, and the surviving multitude, suddenly reduced to penury and want. In the Calabrian earthquake of 1783, it is supposed that about a fourth part of the inhabitants of Polistena and of some other towns were buried alive, and might have been saved had there been no want of hands; but in so general a calamity, where each was occupied with his own misfortunes or those of his family, help could seldom be procured. ‘It frequently happened,’ says Sir Charles Lyell, ‘that persons in search of those most dear to them could hear their moans, could recognise their voices, were certain of the exact spot where they lay buried beneath their feet, yet could afford them no succour. The piled mass resisted all their strength, and rendered their efforts of no avail. At Terranuova four Augustin monks, who had taken refuge in a vaulted sacristy, the arch of which continued to support a vast pile of ruins, made their cries heard for the space of four days. One only of the brethren of the whole convent was saved, and of what avail was his strength to remove the enormous weight of rubbish which had overwhelmed his companions? He heard their voices die away gradually, and when afterwards their four corpses were disinterred, they were found clasped in each other’s arms.’