“I hope to shout glory when this world’s all on fire!  Hallelujah!”

He and Julia hung back a moment, but Mrs. Abigail, who had recovered from her tenth trance, and had been for some time engaged in an active search for Julia, now pounced upon her, and bore her off, before she had time to think, to the place of the hottest excitement.

CHAPTER XLIII.

THE MIDNIGHT ALARM.

At last the time drew on toward midnight, the hour upon which all expectation was concentrated.  For did not the Parable of the Ten Virgins speak of the coming of the bridegroom at midnight?

“My friends and brethren,” said Elder Hankins, his voice shaking with emotion, as he held his watch up in the moonlight, “My friends and brethren, ef the Word is true, they is but five minutes more before the comin’ in of the new dispensation.  Let us spend the last moments of time in silent devotion.”

“I wonder ef he thinks the world runs down by his pay-tent-leever watch?” said Jonas, who could not resist the impulse to make the remark, even with the expectation of the immediate coming of the day of judgment in his mind.

“I wonder for what longitude he calculates prophecy?” said Andrew.  “It can not be midnight all round the world at the same moment.”

But Elder Hankins’s flock did not take any astronomical difficulty into consideration.  And no spectator could look upon them, bowing silently in prayer, awed by the expectation of the sudden coming of the Lord, without feeling that, however much the expectation might be illusory, the emotion was a fact absolutely awful.  Events are only sublime as they move the human soul, and the swift-coming end of time was subjectively a great reality to these waiting people.  Even Andrew was awe-stricken from sympathy; as Coleridge, when he stood godfather for Keble’s child, was overwhelmed with a sense of the significance of the sacrament from Keble’s stand-point.  As for Cynthy Ann, she trembled with fear as she held fast to the arm of Jonas.  And Jonas felt as much seriousness as was possible to him, until he heard Norman Anderson’s voice crying with terror and excitement, and felt Cynthy shudder on his arm.

“For my part,” said Jonas, turning to Andrew, “it don’t seem like as ef it was much use to holler and make a furss about the corn crap when October’s fairly sot in, and the frost has nipped the blades.  All the plowin’ and hoein’ and weedin’ and thinnin’ out the suckers won’t, better the yield then.  An’ when wheat’s ripe, they’s nothin’ to be done fer it.  It’s got to be rep jest as it stan’s.  I’m rale sorry, to-night, as my life a’n’t no better, but what’s the use of cryin’ over it?  They’s nothin’ to do now but let it be gethered and shelled out, and measured up in the standard half-bushel of the sanctuary.  And I’m afeard they’ll be a heap of nubbins not wuth the shuckin’.  But ef it don’t come to six bushels the acre, I can’t help it now by takin’ on.”