' thinks I
to myself, 'there can be no harm in that,' And so I did as he bade me--
and would not you do as much for one who had served you as well? Alas,
your reverence! there he is now, and I cannot get rid of him, and 'tis
over the whole town that he has the meeting-house in possession."

"Tis an incredible story!" cried the Reverend Pettibones.

"'Tis a lie from beginning to end!" cried the Colonel.

"And now how shall I get myself out of my pickle?" asked Captain
Obadiah.

"Sir," said Mr. Pettibones, "if what you tell me is true, 'tis beyond
my poor powers to aid you."

"Alas!" cried Captain Obadiah. "Alas! alas! Then, indeed, I'm damned!"
And therewith flinging his arms into the air as though in the extremity
of despair, he turned and incontinently departed, rushing forth out of
the house as though stung by ten thousand furies.

It was the most prodigious piece of gossip that ever fell in the way of
the Reverend Josiah, and for a fortnight he carried it with him
wherever he went. "'Twas the most unbelievable tale I ever heard," he
would cry. "And yet where there is so much smoke there must be some
fire. As for the poor wretch, if ever I saw a lost soul I beheld him
standing before me there in Colonel Belford's library." And then he
would conclude: "Yes, yes, 'tis incredible and past all belief. But if
it be true in ever so little a part, why, then there is justice in
this--that the Devil should take possession of the sanctuary of that
very heresy that would not only have denied him the power that every
other Christian belief assigns to him, but would have destroyed that
infernal habitation that hath been his dwelling-place for all
eternity."

As for Captain Belford, if he desired privacy for himself upon Pig and
Sow Point, he had taken the very best means to prevent the curious from
spying upon him there after nightfall.

II

HOW THE DEVIL STOLE THE COLLECTOR'S SNUFFBOX

Lieutenant Thomas Goodhouse was the Collector of Customs in the town of
New Hope. He was a character of no little notoriety in those parts,
enjoying the reputation of being able to consume more pineapple rum
with less effect upon his balance than any other man in the community.
He possessed the voice of a stentor, a short, thick-set,
broad-shouldered person, a face congested to a violent carnation, and red
hair of such a color as to add infinitely to the consuming fire of his
countenance.

The Custom Office was a little white frame b