room and struck the one occupied by my roommate. The pictures and frames
fell from the walls, the bowls and pitchers from the washstands, the
books from the shelves, and all were scattered over the floor. A piece
of plastering and a broken wash-bowl struck me on my head. I at first
thought it was the playful prank of the boys, but having got out of my
bed, I was thrown headlong on the floor. I knew it was something serious
and realized that it was an earthquake. I in some way got down the
stairs; I hardly know how. In the yard I found my companions, badly
frightened, all in pajamas, gazing at the sagging walls, broken windows
and chimneys. My roommate, who had got out ahead of me, rushed up to me,
and cried out: "By Jove, I am glad you're out safe; I didn't think of
you until I saw you zig-zagging out of the building." I thanked him and
joined the crowd, watching one of the teachers, who was climbing the
flagpole, so as to be on top of the building if it further collapsed. We
were all silent for a few minutes, but when the shock was fully over, we
talked glibly and loud enough, and had many jokes.

No fires were started, as in San Francisco. We asked one another "if
this was the end of the world or only the beginning." "Do you think we
will get a holiday?" etc. As the excitement subsided, we began to
shiver, so by common consent we sought in the ruins for our clothing. I
felt that another shock might follow, and possibly worse than the first,
and got out of the wrecked building as soon as possible.

A little later I found the Head Master of the school. "Good morning,"
said I. "Unfortunate morning," he replied. "Brick structures do not hold
together when acted upon by conflicting motions caused by the vibrations
due to earthquakes. This disturbance is purely local, and I think that
Belmont is the only place which has suffered." I thought of our home in
the city, which is built of brick, and that my mother, father, and