Marvels of the Auroraby@serviss

Marvels of the Aurora

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One of the most vivid recollections of my early boyhood is that of seeing my father return hastily into the house one evening and call out to the family: “Come outside and look at the sky!” Ours was a country house situated on a commanding site, and as we all emerged from the doorway we were dumbfounded to see the heavens filled with pale flames which ran licking and quivering over the stars. Instantly there sprang into my terrified mind the recollection of an awful description of “the Day of Judgment” (the Dies Iræ), which I had heard with much perturbation of spirit in the Dutch Reformed church from the lips of a tall, dark-browed, dreadfully-in-earnest preacher of the old-fashioned type. My heart literally sank at sight of the spectacle, for it recalled the preacher’s very words; it was just as he had said it would be, and it needed the assured bearing of my elders finally to convince me that
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Garrett P. Serviss

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