… It was a strange encounter altogether, as such experiences are apt to be; but I think there was a certain moral in it. What I had been doing or reading, to prompt such fancies, I will not undertake to say; but the scene took the form of a sort of Vision of Judgment. The locality in which I found myself was rather puzzling to me. It was not this Hall, nor was it our Chapel, though there were features in it which resembled them both; but enlarged beyond all recognition. It was filled from end to end with a vast crowd, which seemed to stretch out interminably in rank beyond rank.

The occupants evidently came from many, and some from remote districts of the country; and by their dress and deportment seemed to extend from very early times down to our own day. There were medieval prelates amongst them: some of these of saintly aspect: men—as I felt sure—, of State, and learning and piety. Others of them, however, were clad in warlike garb:—I noticed one stalwart Irish archbishop, beneath whose priestly garments, as those about made hasty way for him, I caught the glint of a coat of mail. And there was much blood on the sword of a certain lordly bishop of a neighbouring diocese. There were many monks, too, in the throng; mostly Benedictines, in their black garb, from the once famous Houses of Norwich and Bury; mingled with Cluniacs from Lewes, and a group of Augustinian canons in their sober garments.