in all her commanding splendour, infusing a secret terror into the
very soul. Everything bore evidence of the sacred influence of the
Divine Creator. At a short distance from our house we could perceive
a mountain, the base of which was in the lake and the summit in the
clouds. This mountain served as a lightning conductor to Jala-Jala:
it attracted the thunder. Frequently heavy black clouds, charged with
electricity, gathered over this elevated point, looking like other
mountains trying to overturn it; then a storm began, the thunder roared
tremendously, the rain fell in torrents; every minute frightful claps
were heard, and the total darkness was scarcely broken by the lightning
that flashed in long streams of fire, dashing from the top and sides
of the mountain enormous blocks of rock, that were hurled into the
lake with a fearful crash. It was an admirable exemplification of the
power of the Almighty! Soon the calm was restored, the rain ceased,
the clouds disappeared, the fragrant air bore on its yet damp wings
the perfume of the flowers and aromatic plants, and Nature resumed
her ordinary stillness. Hereafter I shall have occasion to speak
of other events that happened at certain periods, and were still
more alarming, for they lasted twelve hours. These were gales of
wind, called in the Chinese seas Tay-Foung. At several periods of
the year, particularly at the moment of the change of the monsoon,
[3] we beheld still more terrifying phenomena than our storms--I
allude to the earthquakes. These fearful convulsions of nature
present a very different aspect in the country from what they do in
cities. If in towns the earth begins to quake, everywhere we hear a
terrible noise; the edifices give way, and are ready to fall down;
the inhabitants rush out of their houses, run along the streets, which
they encumber, and try to escape. The screams of frightened children
and women bathed in tears are blended with those of the distracted
men; all are on their knees, with clasped hands, their looks raised to
Heaven, imploring its mercy with sobbing voices. Everything totters,
is agitated; all dread death, and terror becomes general. In the
country it is totally different, and a hundred times more imposing and
terrific. For instance, in Jala-Jala, at the approach of one of these
phenomena, a profound, even mournful stillness pervades nature. The
wind no longer blows; not a breeze nor even a gentle zephyr is
perceptible. The sun,