white as in a storm, and at the Castle of Rugio
the garrison had to take shelter on the roof, and
fire guns for help. Water rose in about five
minutes sixteen feet, and fell in the same time
for three shocks, and then the tide returned to
its natural course. "I observed at the time the
city fell," says one observer, "on the opposite
side of the river many houses also fall, and the
steep sand came tumbling into the river, which
raised such a dust, that for five minutes I lost
sight of the city, river, and ships. By two
o'clock the ships' boats began to ply, and took
multitudes on board. The English ships took
off their countrymen and women, with which
the shore was crowded, and many of the
country people surrounded the English, and
would not let them stir, saying they were safe
in their company, as seeing they were somewhat
less dismayed, which revived those who were
most affected. Every one was begging pardon
and embracing each other, crying, 'Forgive
me, brother, sister, friend. Oh, what will
become of us! Neither water nor land will
protect us, and the fire seems now to threaten our
total destruction.'"

The money saved was so blackened by the
fire that for some time it was specified in
commercial transactions whether a debt was to be
paid in black or bright money.

The city, after the earthquake, is described as
a piteous sight. Above the narrow noisome
streets rose pyramids of charred and tottering
house-fronts, and below lay piles of bodies half
buried and half burnt. In the squares you met
people who were ruined, wringing their hands,
and crying, "The world is at an end." The
fourth day, foot soldiers and dragoons were
stationed in all the avenues to the city, to stop
thieves or suspicious persons, who, if not owned,
were hung directly, gallows being erected in
several conspicuous parts of the city.

The next care was to feed the starving multitude,
and in this good work the English were
nobly zealous. All corn, flour, and rice was
secured for the public, the mills were set working,
and butchers' shops opened. Provisions, for
the time, were admitted duty free. The
merchants of the factories were particularly generous
in sheltering and feeding the poor in their
gardens, and they obtained the thanks of the king.

The promptitude with which warm-hearted
England sent out money, clothing, and
provisions for the relief of the sufferers, was not
remembered with much gratitude. The proud
Portuguese snatched at the relief, but cursed the
heretical hands that sent it. One of their
historians treats our benevolence as a mere
commercial stratagem, although it happened that
the King of Portugal had always placed barriers
in the way of trade with England, and had
evaded the clauses of preceding favourable
treaties. Spain also behaved well, and received
the same sort of gratitude.

This earthquake excited the profoundest
interest among the scientific and philosophic
throughout Europe. Goethe, though then
only seven years of age, said it left in him
a feeling of distrust and want of reliance in the
moral governor of the universe. Here was a
great evil arising from no abused good, an
evil, too, capable of no future palliation.

It was afterwards remembered that before
and during the earthquake many curious
phenomena had occurred in England and northern
Germany, and the intervals between these
phenomena seemed to clearly mark the velocity of
the earthquake's advance. One of the most
remarkable of these was the sudden reddening
and muddying of the waters of the hot spring
at Clifton.

The following are the atmospheric local
phenomena, interesting to meteorologists, which
preceded and attended this great earthquake.

In the year 1750, Lisbon experienced a slight
but sensible tremor of the earth, and several
very similar slight tremors were frequently
perceived in the course of the four following years,
which proved so very dry, that several springs
and fountains, usually abundant, failed entirely.
The wind mostly blew from the north or the
north-east. The year 1755 was very wet and
rainy. The summer was unusually cool;
and during the forty days which preceded
the earthquake the weather was clear, but
not remarkably so. On the day immediately
preceding that of the earthquake, a remarkable
gloominess prevailed in the atmosphere, and the
sun was obscured. At last, on the morning of
the fatal day (November 1st), a thick fog arose
early in the morning; but this was soon
dissipated by the heat of the sun. There was no
wind, nor the least agitation of the sea; the
weather was remarkably warm. In the midst
of this universal stillness, at thirty-five minutes
after nine in the morning, a subterranean
rumbling noise was heard, and soon after a tremendous
earthquake shook the whole city. The
shocks were at first short and quick; but they
soon changed into another kind of vibration.
. . . . Another shock happened at about noon
of the same day, and during this the walls of
the few houses that remained standing were seen
to open, about a foot from top to bottom, and
then to close again, without hardly leaving a
mark of the fissure. At Colares, about twenty
miles from Lisbon, and two miles from the sea,
on the last day of October, the weather was
clear and uncommonly warm. About four
o'clock in the afternoon there arose a fog,
unusual at that time of the year, which came from
the sea, and spread itself over the valleys. Soon
after, the wind changing to the east, the fog
returned to the sea, collecting itself and becoming
very thick. As the fog retired, the sea rose with
a prodigious roaring. On the 1st of November
the sun rose with a serene sky, the wind
continued at rest; but about nine o'clock the sun
began to grow dim, and about half an hour after
was heard a rumbling noise like that of chariots,
which increased to such a degree that it became
equal to the explosion of the largest cannon.
Immediately a shock of an earthquake was felt,
which was quickly succeeded by a second and
third; and at the same time several light flames