QUINTERO. 305 



November 20th. — Yesterday, after dinner, Glennie having fallen into 

 a sound sleep in his arm-chair by the fire side, Mr. Bennet and I, 

 attracted by the fineness of the evening, took our seats to the veranda 

 overlooking the bay ; and, for the first time since my arrival in Chile, 

 I saw it lighten. The lightning continued to play uninterruptedly 

 over the Andes until after dark, when a delightful and calm moon- 

 light night followed a quiet and moderately warm day. We returned 

 reluctantly to the house on account of the invalid, and were sitting 

 quietly conversing, when, at a quarter past ten, the house received 

 a violent shock, with a noise like the explosion of a mine ; and 

 Mr. Bennet starting up, ran out, exclaiming, " An earthquake, an 

 earthquake ! for God's sake follow me !" I, feeling more for Glennie 

 than any thing, and fearing the night air for him, sat still : he, look- 

 ing at me to see what I would do, did the same ; until, the vibration 

 still increasing, the chimneys fell, and I saw the walls of the house 

 open. Mr. Bennet again cried from without, " For God's sake, come 

 away from the house !" So we rose and went to the veranda, mean- 

 ing, of course, to go by the steps ; but the vibration increased with 

 such violence, that hearing the fall of a wall behind us, we jumped 

 down from the little platform to the ground ; and were scarcely there, 

 when the motion of the earth changed from a quick vibration to a 

 rolling like that of a ship at sea, so that it was with difficulty that 

 Mr. Bennet and I supported Glennie. The shock lasted three minutes ; 

 and, by the time it was over, every body in and about the house had 

 collected on the lawn, excepting two persons ; one the wife of a 

 mason, who was shut up in a small room which she could not open ; 

 the other Carillo, who, in escaping from his room by the wall which 

 fell, was buried in the ruins, but happily preserved by the lintel 

 falling across him. 



Never shall I forget the horrible sensation of that night. In all 

 other convulsions of nature we feel or fancy that some exertion may 

 be made to avert or mitigate danger ; but from an earthquake there 

 is neither shelter nor escape : the " mad disquietude" that agitates 

 every heart, and looks out in every eye, seems to me as awful as the 



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