In the winter of 1803 there was an evening gathering at the ---- Vicarage, which consisted chiefly of clerics, and Aby Biddle was of the number of the guests, having been invited as a source of pastime to help beguile some of the long hours of that forsaken spot. Seldom did he go beyond the solemn dingle, but he had been prevailed upon on this occasion. Much merriment was expected, nor was the expectation misleading, save that it was entirely at the expense of the clerics. The hours glided along gently on the wings of fairy tales. The party remained until the small hours of the morning, singing, merry-making, and tale-telling in turn. The conversation now furtively drifted in the direction of occult science. Aby Biddle sat near the window. Every now and again as he listened to the words magic and witchcraft and various opinions respecting them, he pulled back a corner of the blind and the pale light of the moon flickered on his countenance, revealing the lines of a retreating smile. A loquacious young cleric interposed a caustic remark at this point and fanned the fire into flame, and the discussion was like to have taken a somewhat lively turn had not a broad-browed divine on whose head rested the snow of full three score winters and ten, sternly rebuked the young priest. This divine denounced sorcery and conjuration in unmeasured language. Another aged divine of Puritanic air nodded his assent. Aby Biddle said nothing, though some of the company invited him to speak, but played carefully with the fringe of the curtain. During a momentary lull in the conversation, he rose suddenly, paced the room for a minute or two, and disappeared into the lawn. He was not gone many seconds before he returned with three small rings in his hands. He held these up and remarked, "Gentlemen, we'll see whether conjuring is possible or not." He placed the rings on the floor, at a distance of about a yard apart, and hurriedly left the room, taking care to turn the key in the lock on the smooth side of the door. The priests turned their gaze intently in the direction of the rings. Suddenly there appeared in one of the rings a fly flitting and buzzing. The fly grew. In half a minute or less it had grown into a monster hornet. No sooner had this metamorphosis taken place than it frisked into one of the other rings, and another fly appeared in its place. This one also developed into a hornet, giving way, when fully formed, to a third fly. Each ring was now occupied, and the clerics wondered what next would happen. Little time had they for musing, for the third fly quickly accomplished its transformation, when the first one left the ring and flew through the room. New hornets appeared in quick and quicker succession. The guests became now thoroughly alarmed. Priestly amusement gave way to pallid amazement. More and more came the dreaded hornets, louder and louder their droning hum. They filled the room,