people of Epinal. As time wore on he became pensive
and restless, and nothing pleased him so well as to ascend to the belfry on
moonlight nights, scribbling disparagement on the bells of Eulogius and
Eucherius, which had ceased to be rung, and patting and caressing his own,
which now did duty for all three. With alarm he noticed one night an
incipient crack, which threatened to become a serious flaw.

"If this goes on," said a voice behind him, "I shall get a holiday."

Euschemon turned round, and with indescribable dismay perceived a gigantic
demon, negligently resting his hand on the top of the bell, and looking as
if it would cost him nothing to pitch it and Euschemon together to the
other side of the town.

"Avaunt, fiend," he stammered, with as much dignity as he could muster, "or
at least remove thy unhallowed paw from my bell."

"Come, Eusky," replied the fiend, with profane familiarity, "don't be a
fool. You are not really such an ass as to imagine that your virtue has
anything to do with the virtue of this bell?"

"Whose virtue then?" demanded Euschemon.

"Why truly," said the demon, "mine! When this bell was cast I was
imprisoned in it by a potent enchanter, and so long as I am in it no storm
can come within sound of its ringing. I am not allowed to quit it except by
night, and then no further than an arm's length: this, however, I take the
liberty of measuring by my own arm, which happens to be a long one. This
must continue, as I learn, until I receive a kiss from some bishop of
distinguished sanctity. Thou hast done some bishoping in thy time,
peradventure?"

Euschemon energetically protested that he had been on earth but a simple
laic, which was indeed the fact, and was also the reason why Eulogius and
Eucherius despised him, but which, though he did not think it needful to
tell the demon, he found a singular relief under present circumstances.

"Well," continued the fiend, "I wish he may turn up shortly, for I am half
deaf already with the banging and booming of this infernal clapper, which
seems to have grown much worse of late; and the blessings and the crossings
and the aspersions which I have to go through are most repugnant to my
tastes, and unsuitable to my position in society. Bye-bye, Eusky; come up
to-morrow night." And the fiend slipped back into the bell, and instantly
became invisible.

The humiliation of poor Euschemon on learning that he was indebted for his
credit to the devil is