Ferdinand. Well, mamma, directly I read, in Henry and Lucy, an account of those experiments, I felt almost sure, the expansion of the air in the earth, was the cause of earthquakes; though I did not exactly understand how it could be. I am much obliged to you for your explanation.
Mrs. B. You are very welcome, my dear. You lately read an account of one of these dreadful convulsions of nature. Where did it happen?
Ferdinand. In Jamaica, mamma, in the year 1692: it is a most dreadful account. In two minutes' time, the town of Port Royal was destroyed, and the houses sunk in a gulph forty fathoms deep. In every fathom, there are six feet, you know, mamma; so, if we multiply forty by six, we shall find that these poor creatures were instantly buried, with their houses, to the depth of two hundred and forty feet under ground. In other parts of the island, the sand rose like the waves of the sea, lifting up all who stood upon it, and then dashing them into pits. The water was thrown out of the wells with the greatest violence; the openings of the earth were in some places so broad, that the streets appeared twice as wide as they were before: in others, the ground yawned and closed again continually, swallowing, at each yawn, two or three hundred of the wretched inhabitants: sometimes the chasms suddenly closing, caught them by the middle, and crushed them instantly to death. From openings still more dreadful than these, spouted up cataracts of water, drowning such as the earthquake had spared. Every thing was destroyed: houses, people, and trees, shared one universal ruin. Great pools of water afterwards appeared, which, when dried by the sun, left only a plain of barren sand, without a single trace of its former inhabitants.
Mrs. B. I recollect to have read the account, as well as that of a very similar one that occurred some years ago at Lisbon, which is, you know, the capital of Portugal. I have, at home, a very interesting narrative of an earthquake that happened at Calabria, in the southern part of Italy. It is related by Father Kircher, who was considered as a prodigy of learning, and was also a very excellent man. When we return home, I will look for the paper, and let you read it.
Just as Mrs. Bernard had finished speaking, a little girl, about six years old, came running towards them, crying most bitterly, and exclaiming: "Oh! dear lady, do pray come to my poor mammy, for she is very bad indeed: I do think she is going to die, as my daddy did last week; and then poor baby, and Tommy, and I shall die too, for there will be nobody to take care of us when mammy is gone."
"Where does your mammy live, my poor little girl?" enquired Mrs.
Bernard.
"By the hill-side, Ma'am, at yonder cottage," said the child, pointing to a low-roofed shed at no great distance.
Mrs. Bernard, accompanied by Emily, Louisa, and Ferdinand, proceeded towards the spot pointed out by the little girl, and on entering the cot, beheld a sight which wrung their gentle hearts with pity. On a bundle of straw in one corner of the hovel, (for it deserved no better name,) lay a young woman, apparently fast sinking into the arms of death; at the foot of this wretched bed, sat a poor little half naked boy, crying for that food his wretched mother could not supply; an infant at her breast, was vainly endeavouring to procure the nourishment which nature usually provides, but which want and misery had now nearly exhausted.
Mrs. Bernard approached the poor sufferer, and took her hand. It was cold and clammy: her lips moved, but no sound met the ears of the attentive listeners Mrs. Bernard then enquired of the child, what food her mother had lately taken.
"Oh! none, Ma'am, since the day before yesterday. When my poor daddy was carried away, we had but one loaf left, and that she giv'd all to Tommy and me."