gh upon two thousand years lave gone, O
Lord, and thy kingdom hath not come. In thy name now doth the Pharisee
give alms in the streets to the sound of a trumpet going before him. In
thy name now doth the Levite pass by on the other side when a man has
fallen among thieves. In thy name now doth the priest buy and sell the
glad tidings of the kingdom, giving for the gospel of God the
commandments of men, living in rich men's houses, faring sumptuously
every day, praying with his lips, 'Give us this day our daily bread,' but
saying to his; soul: 'Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years;
take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry.' How long, O Lord, how long?"

Hardly had John Storm stepped back when the heavy clouds broke into
mutterings of thunder. So low were the sounds at first that in the
general tumult they were scarcely noticed; but they came again and again,
louder and louder with every fresh reverberation, and then the excitement
of the people became intense and terrible. It was as if the heavens
themselves had spoken to give sign and assurance of the calamity that had
been foretold.

First a woman began to scream as if in the pains of labour. Then a young
girl cried out for mercy, and accused herself of countless and nameless
offences. Then the entire crowd seemed to burst into sobs and moans and
agonizing expressions of despair, mingled with shouts of wild laughter
and mad thanksgiving. "Pardon, pardon!" "O Jesus, save me!" "O Saviour of
sinners!" "O God, have mercy upon me!" "O my heart, my heart!" Some threw
themselves on the ground, stiff and motionless and insensible as dead
men. Others stood over the stricken people and prayed for their relief
from the power of Satan. Others fell into convulsions, and yet others,
with wild and staring eyes, rejoiced in their own salvation.

It was now almost dark and some of the people who had been out to the
Derby were returning home in their gigs and coster's carts, laughing,
singing, and nearly all of them drunk. There were wild encounters. A
young soldier (it was Charlie Wilkes) came upon Pincher the pawnbroker.
"Wot tcher, myte? Wot's yer amoosemint now?"

"Silence, you evil liver, you gambler, you son of Belial!"

"Stou thet now--d'ye want a kepple er black eyes or a pench on the
nowze?"

At nine o'clock the police of Westminster, being unable to disperse the
crowd, seat to Scotland Yard for the mounted constabulary.

VI.

Meantime the man who