The Washburn leader. [volume] (Washburn, McLean County, N.D.) 1890-1986, 1902-08-23
A. SCENE OF TERROR,
GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF THR
GREAT LISBON EARTHQUAKE.
How One Of the Most Appalling Ca
families In All History Fell Upon
the LIoht.Hearted People Of the Pors
tueuese City.

In the early morning OF All Salnt8'
Day, Nov. 1, all Lisbon was abroad.
The morning was hot and still and
yelled in film Of yellow haze in
which the color of city and sky and
river ran riot. Behind the seven hills
on which the town was built rosa
higher hills, heaving softly into green
swells and pillows, deeper backs
ground for white-walled monasteries
and confusion Of red-tiled roofs and
turquoise towers and minarets and the
yellow outer walls Tapped by the blue
river. In the streets people hurried
in and out among the booths and
shops, gathering into momentary
groups to discuss the absence Of rains
the fact that the wells of the country
had suddenly gone dry, the coming
bull fight, the latest scandal perpe-
trated by armed and hooded noblemen
rowing after dark. The yellow glare
beat on lofty houses covered with
Dutch tiles done in blue and white,
highly glazed and wrought into scenes
from Bible tales; on the small shrines
to saints or the Madonna at. every
corner, and threw out into sharp cone
trast the somber green of citron and
lemon trees. The procession Of the
Viaticum swung past, through black
lanes of kneeling people, with the
Host borne along by barefooted men
Of rank under canopy that blazed
with gold and jewels. White clad
Dominican friars threaded through the
cloud, with austere faces and dark
clouded eyes; negro fruit vendors
shouted their wares above the babel
of songs and laughter, the chanting
of psalms and droning prayers. Rosy
monks, black cowled, jostled among
the women, with coarse robes trailing
about fat white ankles. Slim figures
discreetly shrouded slipped through
the throng, conveyed by alert duen-
mas. English and Dutch talked busi-
ness at the corners, intent on finance
or on trade. Streams of dark-clad
people trickled through the massive
entrance into the great church of San
Domingo. Above the hum and swarm,
of the town the church bells pealed,
vibrant, masculine, deep-toned and
slow, their mellow notes pulsing over
the blue river and drifting out among
the hills. And at the tenth hour the
ground quivered as though to the rum
BILE Of q heavily-loaded wagon in the
streets.
Two minutes later, with a sudden
ripping crash, as Of a lightning bolt
struck home, the earth heaved like an
animal in pain. In an instant the air
was logged with binding dust,
through which could be seen the first
sickening lurch Of buildings topping
to their fall; the wide downward
sweep Of uprooted trees. In all di-
rections were flying figures that reeled
to the earth's motion and fell, and
rose and staggered on. For ten min
utes the convulsion lasted; minutes
that seemed each one an hour. The
dust clouds then lightened, and those
who were left upon the broken streets,
got their bearings and started for the
river and quays. The great marble
quay at the Terreiro do Pace, crowded
with panic-frenzied refugees from all
parts of the town, sank suddenly be-
meath the river, without warning,
leaving never trace or sign, and the
waters gulped over 1t and hurled
themselves forward on the city, seek
ing other prey. Out on the river
ships we're sucked into the
jaws of whirlpool that drew each
one remorselessly to itself, strive .ney
never SO hard to fy-merchantmen.
gallant ships Of the line, tiny pleasure
boats with paintings of impotent
saints on their yellow sails-all with
rows of rigid faces staring over the
rail into the death that waited.-C.
Bryson Taylor, in Everybody's Maya
zine