Man and His Dwelling Place.
WITH all the boasted triumphs of our so-called science, even the wisest among us know comparatively nothing. Newton compared himself to a child picking up pebbles along the sea-shore, and Humboldt confessed that the further we advance, the more clearly we discover how circumscribed is all our knowledge. Of the nearest stars, their size, distance and motion are known, but that is about all. It still remains a mooted question whether the sun is a compact or a vaporous body, whether cold or in a glowing heat. Only recently, the spectrum analysis has ascertained the earthly substances which are represented in the sun, but none can tell how it came about. Of our nearest associate and most faithful companion, the moon, very little is known. For thousands of years she has been observed with the naked eye, and since the discovery of the telescope, we have incessantly examined her. Our whole scientific apparatus has been called into requisition to discover her secrets. But thus far she has revealed nothing. We are not even yet assured whether she has an atmosphere, whether the spots on her disc are mountains or valleys, whether she has a vegetation or an organic life. There exist many theories, but none have been hardened into facts. Science is as little capable of explaining the phenomena of our globe as those which surround it. The nature of the meteors, which incessantly traverse our atmosphere, and partly dissolve in it, cannot be accurately ascertained. Are they telluric and cosmic in their origin? We may assume, but cannot positively affirm which. Year after year the skies present the same magnificent phenomena of the northern lights. The spectacle is admired by laymen and studied by scientists. How does it originate? What forms the fiery clouds, pillars and waves? Even the most learned are unable to answer this question with certainty. The same is true in relation to earthquakes, which have so intimate a connection with the formation of the crust, the division of land and water, which raise mountains, fill up valleys, make abysses, and destroy cities. Man confronts the forces of nature in perfect helplessness. Where is their seat? In the interior of the earth? or near the crust? Is the centre of our planet a fiery mass, which breaks through here and there? Do the fires originate by some means only a few miles under our feet? Are they the result of a conditional development, or of a gradual decomposition of the place which we inhabit? None know. Hypotheses conflict, but not one of them is capable of proof. The series of shocks which we have lately experienced has seriously lessened our sense of security and confidence in “terra firma.” In various parts of Europe the soil heaves under foot. Antioch, the great, beautiful and powerful of ancient days, has sunk in consequence of earthquakes, which have visited her for centuries, to the condition of a trading post. Centuries passed between the visitations, but their memory could not be obliterated, the tradition could not die. Instead of the 250,000 inhabitants destroyed on a former occasion, the demon of destruction contented itself this time with 1,500, but only because there were no more victims. Simultaneously with Syria, the southern part of California was the scene of a series of violent shocks which have desolated whole regions. There is no visitation more awful and fatal than an earthquake. All other chastisements of Providence, such as war, pestilence, famine and drought, may be borne in comparison with this. Like a flash of lightning from a clear sky, it surprises its victims. No definite premonitory symptoms indicate its dread approach. No human foresight or care can avert the deadly danger. Whenever it comes, whether in broad daylight or in the silent darkness of the night, there is no safety, no escape. Those who manage to escape from the falling roof and tottering walls of the building only run the risk of the gulfs opening in every direction before their terror-stricken eyes. When the earth heaves and yawns, man fully realizes his impotence. He can do nothing but turn his eye heavenward, and quietly submit to his fate. Hardly had the earth ceased to sway and tremble on the Pacific when we hear from Italy that Vesuvius is belching forth pillars of fire and cataracts of lava. Who can say what next the mysterious subterranean powers may not have in store for us? Shocks and volcanic eruptions may occur at any moment where they have never been seen before, and the largest and most populous cities may be blotted out. Science is utterly helpless in view of these perils. Since ages, the wisest minds have studied our planet and the universe beyond, but the knowledge of the wisest, who have inherited the intellectual treasures of past generations, is like a drop in the ocean. They feel all like Newton and Humboldt, that there are bounds beyond which no mortal eye can ever hope to pass.—Inter-Ocean.