The Great Earthquake—Effects at Leavenworth Kansas.
Our telegraphic despatches of Thursday, April 25, announced the occurrence of terrible earthquake shocks simultaneously at Leavenworth, Junction City, Lawrence, Kansas City, St. Joseph and other points of western Missouri and Kansas. The Leavenworth and Kansas City papers give additional and deeply interesting details: [From the Leavenworth Conservative, April 25.] The universal topic of conversation last evening was the earthquake shock experienced in the afternoon. It was a phenomenon so utterly unlooked for, so sudden in its coming and departure, a natural convulsion of which so little is known in this latitude, that of course all were more or less startled, and indeed, frightened. Conjectures as to the possible duration and severity of the swift coming shocks flitted like lightning through confused minds, and all seemed to anticipate, after they realized the cause of the commotion, that further and more severe shocks might succeed. The first indications were perceived a few minutes, perhaps fifteen, before three o'clock, and but little attention was given to the matter. Persons up stairs imagined that the jar was produced by something down stairs, while those below accounted for it on the supposition that the cause was above. The first shock is variously described, but generally as resembling the passage of a heavily loaded railroad train driven at a high rate of speed. There was a very perceptible tremor or trembling of the earth, lasting possibly half a minute. Windows rattled slightly and lighter articles were visibly agitated. Then ensued a momentary pause, during which time we presume, brief as it was, the matter passed from mind. But it was only momentary; and then came that rattling sound in the air, that subterranean rumbling so inseparably connected with the old “earth-din,” that convulsive upheaving and rocking of the earth which has so often presaged the destruction of cities, and the death of thousands. Suddenly, fearfully, came the second shock; and as if by preconcerted action the entire populace rushed into the streets. “What is it?” “What’s the matter?” were interrogations that fell from trembling lips, while faces were blanched with fear of what might come after such a “terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar.” Its continuance was brief, perhaps not more than fifteen seconds, and all was quiet again. In that short time, however, an experimental knowledge of earthquakes was gained which will not soon pass from mind. Brick buildings, the foundations of which were deeply laid, experienced more fully than frame buildings the effects of the shock. The vibrations of such were generally from three to five inches from east to west, and even the Planters’ House rocked to an extent not calculated to assure the lookers-on of the security of its walls. Our office was rather roughly shaken, and was, it may be surmised, evacuated with much greater alacrity than the rebels exhibited at either Richmond or Charleston. At Lawrence, Kansas City, St. Joseph, Weston, and, we presume, all along the river and throughout the West, the same convulsions were experienced, with the same startling effects. The occurrence was telegraphed from St. Joseph to the Eastern press at once, and passengers from Lawrence report that there it was very similar in approach and culmination to the description we have endeavored to give. [From the Leavenworth Bulletin, Wednesday Afternoon.] We were sitting at our office window, in the third story of a brick building. A general trembling of the building, and rattling of windows, quite unusual, first attracted our attention. It felt like the result of rolling barrels upon the lower floor. Then came a pause of a few seconds, followed by a trembling and vibrating motion of the whole building, in such a forcible manner as to impress every one of the imminent danger of its falling. Compositors fled their cases, and every one sought the street for safety; and what was true of this office, was also true of the entire city, so far as we could see. Blanched faces and trembling hands were the rule, steady nerves the exception, among the crowd that found their way so hastily to the street. The sensation called to mind that produced by the breaking of a car axel under a moving train. The vibration of the building in which we write could not have been less than three inches from east to west, as pendulum clocks were stopped, and the plaster shaken from the upper ceiling. The second shock came with such vehemence and power that all rushed instantly to the open air. The streets were filled with a crowd; some terror-stricken, others laughing—all more or less pallid or flushed, as fear or excitement held the mastery. All were unusually talkative. Men who had not been on speaking terms for years exchanged remarks, and it was soon settled that we had had an earthquake—a genuine one. At this moment, the universal equality of man was wonderfully realized. The effects of the earthquake were only apparent during its continuance. Windows were violently shaken; a hoarse rumbling, accompanied with a sort of rushing sound, as of an impalpable wind, was heard, and an electric current passed violently through the air, every living thing being sensible of its effects, though too much alarmed to comprehend it. We have heard of but few incidents; among them, we may mention the destruction of Mr. Planta’s crockery, which was thrown to the floor; the overthrowing of piles of dry goods on the counters of different stores; the clock in our office stopped. The excitement for a few moments surpassed anything we have ever witnessed.