XXII.
A VISION OF JUDGMENT.
I.
BRU-A-A-A.
I listened, not understanding.
Wa-ra-ra-ra.
"Good Lord!" said I, still only half awake. "What an infernal shindy!"
Ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra Ta-ra-rra-ra.
"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——"
Toora-toora-toora! Deafening!
"No," said I, speaking loud in order to hear myself. "That's the Last Trump."
Tooo-rraa!
II.
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