tide of Petersburg life-pedestrians of every nationality of the realm; mounted Cossacks, and officers resplendent with gold lace and orders; elegant barouches, on whose luxurious cushions recline titled ladies borne swiftly to their round of visits or morning drive; troikas, whose two horses trot briskly together, while the third, his head at right angles to them, gallops at the side; droskies, which the Marquis de Custine aptly calls summer sledges, so low and small and convenient are they; policemen; companies of soldiers; groups of peasants; coachmen; porters; beggars; all, with their peculiar attire and strange speech, making up a panorama which you must go to the Neva to behold.

Colossal works on every side, power, splendor, novelty; yet the misty skies, the low sun, which gives always the semblance of waning day, the dull tints of sea and shore,

the melancholy wind blowing through the broad, level, monotonous streets, make it a sombre city during the milder half of the year. But when winter comes, with its pale blue sky; when the snow falls thick on the plain; when the Neva is a mass of ice and the favorite drive and race-course; when flying sledges fill the streets, and all who pass are wrapped in wool or furs; when, under the patronage of the Government, the great theaters display their attractions, and the rarest singers of the world beguile the long evenings with perfect song; when the huge stuccoed stoves, and hot-air flues running through the walls, and grates heaped with English coal diffuse a genial warmth through the stately mansions where flowers blossom as if in their native air, and the rank and fashion and wit and beauty of the Empire are gathered; then St. Petersburg is brilliant, imposing, unrivaled, the Miracle of the North.

THE WATEREE AND THE TIDAL WAVE.

YEARS ago, in the present harbor of Lisbon, I looked down through the water upon the ruins of the famous old city,-upon the graves of sixty thousand human beings, who within the space of six minutes were hurled to destruction.

I did not then suppose that in a few short months it would be my fortune to witness a similar disturbance in nature only inferior to that of Lisbon in 1755.

It was my lot to be ordered on board the U. S. steamer Wateree, in the beginning of the year 1868, for a cruise in South Pacific waters. In the month of August of that year we lay at anchor in the port of Arica. This city, situated in Lat. 18° 28′ S. and Long. 70° 24' W., ranks next after Callao among the seaports of Peru.

All the produce of the interior of that section of the country is brought from over the mountains to Tacna by means of packmules and llamas, and thence to Arica, forty miles distant, by rail.

The city of Árica was built on a bend of the coast, close to the water's edge. On the south is a large bluff about four hundred feet high, its base washed by the waves. The outer face of this bluff is perpendicular, and, having a whitish color, it forms a good landmark for vessels entering the port. It is the terminus of a portion of the coast range, and is termed by the people the "morro." Stretching back from the sea, the coast range runs around the rear of the city, and as it extends to the northward it leaves a barren sandy plain of several miles in width between its foot and the suburbs of the city.

The houses of Arica were generally built of adobe and rushes, one story high, though there were a few of stone and others of wood of more pretentious appearance; but in all cases they were made with a view to resist the shocks of earthquake to which the place is so liable. A large custom-house stood close to the water's edge, built of stone and presenting a fine appearance from shipboard, and farther back a church with two lofty stee

ples. These two buildings were the only ones whose exteriors were at all prepossessing. But though the nature of the country did not permit exterior embellishments, the interiors of the houses of the more wealthy were luxuriously furnished.

Society in the city was very pleasant and attractive, and the people were most hospitable, especially to American naval officers. Parties and hops were of frequent occurrence on shipboard and on shore. Tacna, too, was of easy access, for the president of the railroad gave general passes to all the officers. Friendly boat-races between Americans and Peruvians often added interest to our life there, and the perfect harmony of feeling that existed was fully exemplified on our respective Independence days, when the celebrations would be entered into with the greatest zest by all.

An occasional shock of earthquake was felt at times, causing a momentary panic, but, as it passed with no serious results, it was soon forgotten, as others had been.

At five o'clock on the afternoon of the 13th of August, 1868, the first shock of the great earthquake was felt at Arica. No premonitory symptoms indicated that anything of the kind was about to take place. The sky presented no remarkable appearance, the air felt as usual, and everything seemed quiet and safe. This first shock alarmed every one in the city. It was the most severe one they had experienced for years. It shook down many houses, and damaged others. The

first impulse of people in countries subject to these visitations is to fly from their houses and seek safety in the open squares. The inhabitants of Arica followed this impulse. No sooner were their houses felt swaying over them than they dropped everything and rushed into the streets.

The sensation on board the vessels in the harbor was very peculiar. A trembling of the ships from stem to stern was experienced, very similar to that caused by lowering a heavy boat. Those on board had but to look to the shore to see the cause, for the fallen buildings, and frightened people running in every direction, gave evidence that it was an earthquake of unusual violence. The ships seemed perfectly safe; there was no danger there of anything falling, and the water showed no signs of disturbance. It was as calm and unruffled as a miniature lake.

Hardly a breath of wind was blowing, merely light airs that were scarcely felt.

The first shock over, many returned to their unprotected houses. They hoped and trusted that no further shock would be felt.

On board the different vessels the fears of a tidal wave were in a measure quieted, as no disturbance of the water was visible. Still, the batteries and all heavy articles the moving about of which might endanger the ships were made secure; tarpaulins were placed at hand, and every arrangement perfected for battening down the hatches.

It was nearly half-past five when the second and severer shock was experienced.

A NATIVE.

It was preceded by a low rumbling, like distant thunder, and came upon the doomed city with only that slight warning. The affrighted inhabitants again rushed from their houses and sought safety on the hills and in every open space where they would be free from the falling buildings. Many escaped in season, while others, in their anxiety to save a few of their household treasures, or in their agonizing fear unable to run or even to move, were buried in the ruins.

The scene from shipboard was peculiarly awful. The shock was felt most sensibly and the falling houses distinctly seen. An immense mass of earth was shaken from the "morro," and falling with a fearful thud, it sent up such a cloud of dust as to envelop the whole city and hide it from the sight of those on the ships. This cloud slowly drifted to leeward, and revealed a city in ruins. Now, for the first time, a commotion of the water was noticed. It receded a short distance, and then returned beyond the highest tide-mark. The mole extending from the shore into deep water was crowded with people, and as they saw the water rising to ingulf them, they stood an instant like so many wild animals at bay, and then, with an agonized cry of "la mer!" "la mer!" (the sea! the sea!), rushed over and through the ruins to the hills. But alas for the rear of that surging crowd! The water overtook them, and, sweeping them from their feet, left them struggling for their lives in a floating mass of débris that twisted and turned in every direction. Some were picked up by boats, a few

were washed ashore, while many others, after desperate struggles, went down and were seen

no more.

The appearance of the water at this time was most singular. It was perfectly smooth, and apparently free from any disturbing force. As it rushed in and out, it seemed to be merely rising and falling, as though there were two immense pipes underneath that alternately fed and discharged the sea. Currents and counter-currents were noticeable in every direction. Masses of drifting ruins would rush by each other in opposite directions; and the boats, into which some had clambered on being overtaken by the water, were swept hither and thither, entirely out of the control of the occupants.

Boats from the U. S. Steamer Waterce and the Peruvian corvette America were sent to pick up the unfortunates who were still clinging to trees, masses of earth, or whatever would support them in the water. Though some were thus saved, the greater number were finally left to their fate, for, as the boat neared them, they were caught by a current and swept hopelessly away.

The boats themselves, pulled as they were by strong sailors, could hardly reach their ships. One, indeed, from the Waterce, after regaining the ship by almost superhuman exertions, carried away its tow-line and was again swept away. In vain the crew struggled to return. Pull as they would, and encouraged as they were by a brave young officer with them, they were vanquished by the strength of the rushing water, and, as a last resource, they brought up alongside of the Peruvian ship America, where they were afterwards placed in the greatest danger.

Those on shore who had escaped from the water and falling buildings were gathered on the hills adjacent to the city. Frightened and trembling, at every successive shock they threw themselves on the ground, and stretching out their arms in the form of a cross, sent up their supplications to Heaven.

So ignorant were the greater part, that they believed the last day had come; and indeed it was a belief that found a place in the minds of many others. Such appalling sights were never seen before, and will probably never be seen again by those who then witnessed them. To endeavor to run from an impending danger, and to be unable to stand on the heaving and swaying earth under you to see this same hitherto stable earth open in immense cracks, whence the water shoots up apparently from the very bowels of the earth, is enough to freeze the blood of the bravest.

It is no wonder that many were paralyzed by the awful spectacle.

The instinct of self-preservation was alone retained. Parents lost sight of their children, husbands of their wives, brothers of their sisters. Several of a family, on being overtaken by the flood, had climbed into a launch and were carried back and forth as the water advanced and receded. One of them had broken his leg, and could not move, so when they were left high and dry in the middle of the plaza, the others jumped out, and, unwilling to leave him, commenced to lift him up in order to carry him with them; but seeing the water again rushing towards them, they dropped the wounded man in the launch again and ran wildly away. The boat was swept back and forth during the whole night, and in the morning it was found beached, its Occupant safe, though suffering greatly from his broken limb. More rapidly than can be related the water rushed in and out, each time gaining strength and reaching farther into the city-sweeping the ruins in all directions, and obliterating all traces of street and plaza.

Now came our turn on board the ships. There was no wind, so sails could not benefit us in leaving the harbor, and of the six vessels there but one had steam-power, the Peruvian ship America. The boilers of the Wateree had been undergoing repairs, and, as hardly a tube was in place, the idea of steaming to sea was not for a moment considered. The captain of the America was on shore, and as there was a scarcity of coal in the bunkers, the executive officer would not use it without authority, so that when the captain reached the ship, after long-continued efforts, it was too late; the currents had become so strong that the ship was at their mercy, and in as imminent danger as any of the sailing vessels.

Each ship was made as secure as possible against any contingency. Both anchors were sent down with long scopes of cable, stern moorings were cast off, and the vessels were left to swing to the currents with the hope that the worst was over.

A little brig was anchored nearest in shore, and as the water receded she quickly rolled over on her beam-ends. Her crew deserted her and endeavored to reach the shore, but the water returned with such frightful rapidity that with hardly an exception they were all ingulfed, while their ship, more fortunate, was dashed by the incoming waves farther up the beach. The next morning she was seen standing upright, with yards square and hard

ly a rope-yarn started, though when last seen in the dusk she was lying on her beam-ends with the waves breaking over her.

Of the larger vessels, the Chañarcillo, an English bark, was the first one to suffer in the growing darkness. Her deck-stoppers and compressors gave way, and, as the chain rushed out of her hawse-holes, the friction was so intense that a stream of fire followed in its wake.

On board the Wateree one hundred fathoms of chain were out with each anchor, and as one gave way the ship was carried seaward, dragging the other anchor and chain with it. The Wateree and Chañarcillo were swept so near each other that a person could have jumped from one deck to the other, and a moment after they were carried by the opposing currents in totally different directions. Had they collided, probably both would have immediately sunk.

In the darkness that now prevailed the position of the different ships could only be designated by their lights; these were seen shooting in all directions. The America appeared to be steaming around the harbor, and, as she approached the Fredonia, the first lieutenant of the latter vessel hailed her through a trumpet, saying-" We are lost without doubt. Why don't you put to sea?" The fact was that the America had no steam up at all, but was flying around, wholly unmanageable.

The night was of such inky darkness, that the experience of some of the ships will never be known, as no one on board survived to tell the story. One bark laden with guano must have gone down at her anchors, for not a vestige of her

was ever seen nor

were any of her crew heard of.

Our experience on the Wateree was sufficiently frightful-differing vastly from that of an ordinary shipwreck.

When we lost sight of the other vessels, we watched the land and direction of the ship's head to see whither we were

FRUIT-WOMAN OF ARICA.