melting only into a liquid obscurity as it
touched and dissolved into the stretch of waters across the bay. But
above, on the high and rugged shoulder of the Point, the Collector,
with dulled and swimming vision, beheld a row of dim and lurid lights,
whereupon, collecting his faculties, he opined that the radiance he
beheld was emitted from the windows of the Old Free Grace
Meeting-House.

Having made fast his boat with a drunken gravity, the Collector walked
directly, though with uncertain steps, up the steep and rugged path
towards that mysterious illumination. Now and then he stumbled over the
stones and cobbles that lay in his way, but he never quite lost his
balance, neither did he for a moment remit his drunken gravity. So with
a befuddled and obstinate perseverance he reached at last to the
conclusion of his adventure and of his fate.

The old meeting-house was two stories in height, the lower story having
been formerly used by the Free Grace Believers as a place wherein to
celebrate certain obscure mysteries appertaining to their belief. The
upper story, devoted to the more ordinary worship of their Sunday
meetings, was reached by a tall, steep flight of steps that led from
the ground to a covered porch which sheltered the doorway.

The Collector paused only long enough to observe that the shutters of
the lower story were tight shut and barred, and that the dull and lurid
light shone from the windows above. Then he directly mounted the steps
with a courage and a perfect assurance that can only be entirely
enjoyed by one in his peculiar condition of inebriety.

He paused to knock at the door, and it appeared to him that his
knuckles had hardly fallen upon the panel before the valve was flung
suddenly open. An indescribable and heavy odor fell upon him and for
the moment overpowered his senses, and he found himself standing face
to face with a figure prodigiously and portentously tall.

Even at this unexpected apparition the Collector lost possession of no
part of his courage. Rather he stiffened himself to a more stubborn and
obstinate resolution. Steadying himself for his address, "I know very
well," quoth he, "who you are. You are the Divil, I dare say, but damme
if you shall do business here without paying your duties to King
George. I may drink a drop too much," he cried, "but I collect my
duties--every farthing of 'em." Then drawing forth his snuffbox, he
thrust it under the nose of the being to whom he