A VISION OF JUDGMENT.
I listened, not understanding.
"Good Lord!" said I, still only half awake. "What an infernal shindy!"
"It's enough," said I, "to wake——" and stopped short. Where was I.
Ta-rra-rara—louder and louder.
"It's either some new invention——"
"No," said I, speaking loud in order to hear myself. "That's the Last Trump."
The last note jerked me out of my grave like a hooked minnow.
I saw my monument (rather a mean little affair, and I wished I knew who'd done it), and the old elm tree and the sea view vanished like a puff of steam, and then all about me—a multitude no man could number, nations, tongues, kingdoms, peoples—children of all the ages, in