closed themselves before them. . . . Water and fire contributed to the
universal ruin at the time of the last great cataclysm which preceded
the fourth creation."

Observe the similarities here to the Chaldean legend. There is the same
graphic description of a terrible event. The "black cloud" is referred
to in both instances; also the dreadful noises, the rising water, the
earthquake rocking the trees, overthrowing the houses, and crushing even
the mountain caverns; "the men running and pushing each other, filled
with despair," says the "Popul Vuh;" "the brother no longer saw his
brother," says the Assyrian legend.

And here I may note that this word hurakan--the spirit of the abyss, the
god of storm, the hurricane--is very suggestive, and testifies to an
early intercourse between the opposite shores of the Atlantic. We find
in Spanish the word huracan; in Portuguese, furacan; in French, ouragan;
in German, Danish, and Swedish, orcan--all of them signifying a storm;
while in Latin furo, or furio, means to rage. And are not the old
Swedish hurra, to be driven along; our own word hurried; the Icelandic
word hurra, to be rattled over frozen ground, all derived from the same
root from which the god of the abyss, Hurakan, obtained his name? The
last thing a people forgets is the name of their god; we retain to this
day, in the names of the days of the week, the designations of four
Scandinavian gods and one Roman deity.

It seems to me certain the above are simply two versions of the same
event; that while ships from Atlantis carried terrified passengers to
tell the story of the dreadful catastrophe to the people of the
Mediterranean shores, other ships, flying from the tempest, bore similar
awful tidings to the civilized races around the Gulf of Mexico.