Ischia and Java, though almost antipodes, are companions in disaster, and possibly felt the dashing of the same billows, striking with violence here or there, according as some mighty impulse drove them on. The great calamities of the past summer, besides their appeal to our humanity, will be of interest to scientific men, and may throw light on the relations of earthquakes and volcanoes, and their cause, after which they have been searching a good deal in the dark, and with results not yet satisfactory.
The accounts of the last fearful disaster are yet incomplete, and may not all be verified. The latest, and apparently most reliable reports, place it among the most terrible calamities known in the history of the race, since the deluge. The earth trembled and shook—rocks were rent—buildings tumbled in ruins. A large part of the city, full of wealth and life, sank out of sight. Tidal waves carried destruction along the coast. Volcanoes belched forth smoke, ashes and lava, overspreading fertile valleys; and when the sulphurous clouds that hung over them, black as night, were lifted, turbulent waters rolled over fifty square miles of pasture lands that the day before were covered with flocks, and the homes of men. It is estimated that seventy-five thousand people perished. It may be a few thousand less, or more, as there are yet no data from which to form more than a proximate estimate. The whole number will not be known till the graves and the sea give up their dead.
[LOW SPIRITS.]
By J. MORTIMER GRANVILLE.
There is enough in the daily experience of life to depress the feelings and rob the mind of its buoyancy, without having to encounter lowness of spirits as a besetting mental state or malady. Nevertheless, it so frequently assumes the character of an affection essentially morbid, attacks individuals who are not naturally disposed to despondency, and gives so many unmistakable proofs of its close relations with the health of the physical organism, that it must needs be included in the category of disease. The constitutional melancholy which distinguishes certain types of character and development, is a setting in the minor key rather than depression. Within the compass of a lower range, individuals of this class exhibit as many changes of mood as those whose temperament is, so to say, pitched higher, and who therefore seem to be capable of greater elation.
It is important to ascertain at the outset whether a particular person upon whom interest may be centered is not naturally characterized by this restrained or reserved tone of feeling! Unhealthy conditions of mind are generally to be recognized by the circumstance that they offer a contrast to some previous state. The movable, excitable temperament may become fixed and seemingly unimpressionable, the self-possessed begin to be irritable, the calm, passionate. It is the change that attracts attention, and when low spirits come to afflict a mind wont to exhibit resilience and joyousness, there must be a cause for the altered tone, and prudence will enjoin watchfulness. Mischief may be done unwittingly by trying to stimulate the uncontrollable emotions.
There are few more common errors than that which assumes lowness of spirits to be a state in which an appeal should be made to the sufferer. We constantly find intelligent and experienced persons, who show considerable skill in dealing with other mental disorders and disturbances, fail in the attempt to relieve the pains of melancholy. They strive by entreaty, expostulation, firmness, and even brusqueness, to coerce the victim, and prevail upon him to shake off his despondency. They urge him to take an interest in what is passing around, to bestir himself, and put an end to his broodings. This would be all very well if the burden that presses so heavily on the spirit simply lay on the surface, but the lowness of which I am speaking is something far deeper than can be reached by “rallying.” It is a freezing of all the energies; a blight which destroys the vitality, a poison which enervates and paralyzes the whole system.