On the 17th of February, 1870, at noon-day, I experienced my first introduction to a shock of California earthquake. I had been out enjoying my customary morning promenade, the weather being mild and balmy as usual, and the face of nature appeared comme a l'ordinaire . On entering my room, as I was removing my bonnet and shawl, the building suddenly began to rock, and the blinds shook and swayed to and fro just like a steamer getting under way. I caught hold of a table and steadied myself to regain my equilibrium, I for a moment imagined that I had just embarked at San Francisco, and had taken passage for the Sandwich Islands. Another moments reflection, however, gave me to understand that instead of being on the "briny deep," I was upon terra firma, and that the rocking sensation was my first introduction, in California vulgnie, to a "Quake." Scarcely had I regained my situation, ere the rocking and trembling ceased, and, strange to say, I was not in the least armed; and going towards the hall, I met my next door neighbor with a composed smile, as if "Quakes" were already familiar things. She was greatly frightened, and regarding my composure as forced, remarked, " They who know nothing, fear nothing ." If this be true, when I know more I will fear more.
Occupying the second story of a fine building my first impulse after the shake was over, was to look about for damages. In my room the plastered walls were somewhat crushed, and that was all. Going to the window to see what the people in the streets were doing, I observed that no one appeared disturbed, though the windows on the opposite side of the street were filled with eager and anxious faces, looking in the same direction, probably for the same purpose.
The greatest and only real danger resulting from these phenomena is caused by crowds of people rushing hurriedly into the streets, and being hurt by falling chimneys and other missiles. I am told that all loss of life on the Pacific Coast has resulted from fearful stampedes of children from the public schools, or crowds of people tumbling and trampling and jostling each other in the first moments of alarm.
If, as Lolland says, "All common good has common price," the price of living in this country, as far as my experience goes, is rather the fear than the result of earthquakes. As there are neither violent winds or storms, thunder or lightning, whirlwinds or simoons, nature purifies the elements by shakes and quakes, and all fear rests in the fact that no one knows how hard it may shake before the quake is over.