“Tick-tock! Tick-tock! Only two thousand years by the Spirit’s clock!” it said.
And lo!—the stately tower, buildings and streets disappeared! Smooth green fields spread out on every side, full-flowering with meadow-sweet, buttercups and daisies,—there was no longer any bridge across the river, which, flowing calmly between low banks of mossy turf and fern, reflected the sunshine in a thousand sparkles and plashed against the double shores with musical murmurs of peace. A flock of sheep grazed on the quiet pasture, and their shepherd sat at his ease by the side of the placid stream.
And now the Goblin waved its spidery arms.
“Ask him,” it said—“what has become of London!”
Obediently McNason put the question. The shepherd turned upon him a young wondering face.
“London!” he echoed. Then he smiled. “Oh yes, I think I know what you mean! There was a city of that name somewhere about here once, but I don’t know exactly where! There’s nothing of it left now!”
“Nothing!” exclaimed McNason, aghast.
“Nothing!”—And the Goblin, pronouncing this word, waved its arms again, whereupon the Vision vanished,—“Nothing! Not a shred!—not a brick—not a bone! Not even a gold Coin! All the business—Gone!—all the pleasure—Gone!—all the scheming, plotting, lying, cheating, villainy, hatred and envy of one human creature contesting with the other—Gone! All the self-sufficiency, learning, little wisdom, and utter godlessness—Gone! Such will London be in two thousand years! And Nature will not miss it! Nature can do without it very well; Nature can do without you equally well, McNason! The sun will go on shining and the birds will go on singing none the less because You are wanting! Come along!—come along! In the spirit of One Timothy Two, time’s up! Off we go on our last journey!”
Once more Josiah fell on his knees.
“Spare me!” he cried—“Spare me! Surely I have suffered enough!”