QUINTERO. 305 
November 20th.— Y esterday, 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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