in the
mean while unrolled another picture, and holding it up high with
solemn countenance, exclaimed with a screaming voice: "The day of
judgment is at hand, and destiny is at your door! In my dream I saw a
face like unto no other face, and I heard a voice, and the voice was
like unto no other voice!"

"And yet you heard it! What ears you must have!" said Gotzkowsky,
laughing.

The prophet answered calmly, "Yes! for then were seen invisible
things, and then were heard inaudible sounds!" And showing a fresh
picture to the crowd, he continued: "Look at this picture, which
I found this morning on my sheet. It contains the history of your
future, and God announced it to me as I sat at my loom weaving. I
heard a voice crying, 'Pfannenstiel, my beloved son, dost thou hear
me?' And I fell on my knees and answered, 'Yes, I hear.' 'Dost thou
know what thou art weaving?' asked the voice. 'Yes,' said I, 'it is
linen shirting for the almshouse.' 'No,' said the voice, 'it is a
cloth of weeping for the town of Berlin, for the daughters of your
fathers will shed tears, and there will be moaning and weeping.'"

These last words he accompanied with a sobbing and plaintive howl,
in which his trembling hearers joined. They assured each other in
uncomfortable whispers that Pfannenstiel's prophecies usually came
true, and that, even before the war, he had predicted the coming of
this day of terror.

But soon Pfannenstiel raised his voice, and its hoarse croaking
sounded above the loud conversation and anxious cries of the
multitude. "Woe unto Berlin!" cried he, with shrieking pathos. "Blood
will flow within her walls! The voice said unto me, 'I will look upon
red, but it will not be a scarlet cloak, and when the red banner waves
thrones will tremble, and there will be no end to the lamentation.
And the cock will crow, and the heavens will shine blood-red, and
everywhere and in all places men will cry, "Blood! blood is the drink
of new life; blood makes young what is old; blood wipes out sworn
debts; blood makes the proud humble. Let us drink blood!"'"

Here the prophet was interrupted by the loud cries and wailing of
the multitude. The women broke out in tears, sank on their knees
and prayed, or clung trembling and weeping to their moody-looking
husbands.

Pfannenstiel looked with an air of proud triumph on this evident
effect of his speech, and then continued in a more subdued tone: "But
the voice said to me, 'Hope, and every thi