spectacle of
a number of men, women, and children running in and out of their houses,
on what each time proved a very unnecessary alarm, as each shock ceased
just as it became strong enough to frighten us. It seemed really very
much like "playing at earthquakes," and made many of the people join me
in a hearty laugh, even while reminding each other that it really might
be no laughing matter.

At length the evening got very cold, and I became very sleepy, and
determined to turn in; leaving orders to my boys, who slept nearer
the door, to wake me in case the house was in danger of falling. But
I miscalculated my apathy, for I could not sleep much. The shocks
continued at intervals of half an hour or an hour all night, just strong
enough to wake me thoroughly each time and keep me on the alert, ready
to jump up in case of danger. I was therefore very glad when morning
came. Most of the inhabitants had not been to bed at all, and some had
stayed out of doors all night. For the next two days and nights shocks
still continued at short intervals, and several times a day for a week,
showing that there was some very extensive disturbance beneath our
portion of the earth's crust. How vast the forces at work really are can
only be properly appreciated when, after feeling their effects, we look
abroad over the wide expanse of hill and valley, plain and mountain, and
thus realize in a slight degree the immense mass of matter heaved
and shaken. The sensation produced by an earthquake is never to be
forgotten. We feel ourselves in the grasp of a power to which the
wildest fury of the winds and waves are as nothing; yet the effect is
more a thrill of awe than the terror which the more boisterous war of
the elements produces. There is a mystery and an uncertainty as to the
amount of danger we incur, which gives greater play to the imagination,
and to the influences of hope and fear. These remarks apply only to a
moderate earthquake. A severe one is the most destructive and the most
horrible catastrophe to which human beings can be exposed.

A few days after the earthquake I took a walk to Tondano, a large
village of about 7,000 inhabitants, situated at the lower end of the
lake of the same name. I dined with the Controlleur, Mr. Bensneider,
who had been my guide to Tomohon. He had a fine large house, in which he
often received visitors; and his garden was the best for flowers which I
had seen in the tropics, although there was no grea