due. To unmask those canonised impostors."

And he called their attention to the fact that the clappers of the bells of
Eulogius and Eucherius were so fastened up that they could not emit a
sound, while that of Euschemon vibrated freely.

"Ye see," he continued, "that these sound not at all, yet is the tempest
stayed. Is it not thence manifest that the virtue resides solely in the
bell of the blessed Euschemon?"

The argument seemed conclusive to the majority, but those of the clergy who
ministered at the altars of Eulogius and Eucherius stoutly resisted,
maintaining that no just decision could be arrived at until Euschemon's
bell was subjected to the same treatment as the others. Their view
eventually prevailed, to the great dismay of Euschemon, who, although
firmly convinced of the virtue of his own bell, did not in his heart
disbelieve in the bells of his brethren. Imagine his relief and amazed joy
when, upon his bell being silenced, the storm, for the first time in the
memory of the oldest inhabitant, broke with full fury over Epinal, and, for
all the frantic pealing of the other two bells, raged with unspeakable
fierceness until his own was brought into requisition, when, as if by
enchantment, the rain ceased, the thunder-clouds dispersed, and the sun
broke out gloriously from the blue sky.

"Carry him in procession!" shouted the crowd.

"Amen, brethren; here I am," rejoined Euschemon, stepping briskly into the
midst of the troop.

"And why in the name of Zernebock should we carry _you?_" demanded some,
while others ran off to lug forth the image, the object of their devotion.

"Why, verily," Euschemon began, and stopped short. How indeed was he to
prove to them that he _was_ Euschemon? His personal resemblance to his
effigy, the work of a sculptor of the idealistic school, was in no respect
remarkable; and he felt, alas! that he could no more work a miracle than
you or I. In the sight of the multitude he was only an elderly sexton with
a cast in his eye, with nothing but his office to keep him out of the
workhouse. A further and more awkward question arose, how on earth was he
to get back to Paradise? The ordinary method was not available, for he had
already been dead for several centuries; and no other presented itself to
his imagination.

Muttering apologies, and glad to be overlooked, Euschemon shrank into a
corner, but slightly comforted by the honours his image was receiving at
the hands of the good