pictures, which, in coarse, clumsy drawing, represented a town, from
the houses of which flames arose in the most variegated colors.

"Behold! behold!" cried the prophet, "and fall on your knees and pray!
Yes, pray! for I tell you the Holy Ghost appeared to me, His wings
dripping with blood, and in His burning and flaming beak He held this
picture which I now show you."

"Well, then, how is it that the picture is not burnt too, if the Holy
Ghost held it in His burning beak?" asked an impudent shoemaker's boy.

A low laugh ran through the crowd, but this was soon suppressed by
angry, threatening voices, commanding silence and quiet.

The prophet turned with an air of majestic composure toward the
questioner: "Why was not this picture burnt? Because God wished to
perform a miracle, to manifest Himself to me in His glory, and to
prove to me that this vision was from Him, and not from the devil.
Yes, indeed, God gave me this picture that we might be warned--not
to terrify us. Listen, therefore, to my voice, and learn what God
announces to you from my mouth."

"I would like indeed to hear what the stupid rascal is going to
announce to these poor foolish devils," muttered Mr. Kretschmer,
leaning out of the window and listening attentively.

Pfannenstiel continued: "Behold these columns of fire rising from the
houses of this town. This town is Berlin, and the fire will burst out
of the roofs of your houses. Woe! woe! will sound in your streets, and
weeping and lamentation will fill the air. I say unto you, watch and