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 That Day of Wrath, O dreadful day, When Heaven and Earth shall pass away, As David and the Sibyl say had not actually come upon us. And even the older members of the household were not untouched with misgivings when menacing spots of crimson appeared, breaking out now here, now there, in the shuddering sky. Toward the north the spectacle was appalling. A huge arch spanned an unnaturally dark segment resting on the horizon, and above this arch sprang up beams and streamers in a state of incessant agitation, sometimes shooting up to the zenith with a velocity that took one’s breath, and sometimes suddenly falling into long ranks, and _marching, marching, marching,_ like an endless phalanx of fiery specters, and moving, as I remember, always from east to west. The absolute silence with which these mysterious evolutions were performed and the quavering reflections which were thrown upon the ground increased the awfulness of the exhibition. Occasionally enormous curtains of lambent flame rolled and unrolled with a majestic motion, or were shaken to and fro as if by a mighty, noiseless wind. At times, too, a sudden billowing rush would be made toward the zenith, and for a minute the sky overhead would glow so brightly that the stars seemed to have been consumed. The spectacle continued with varying intensity for hours. [Illustration: Auroral beams seen in England]