The snow continued to fall heavily, and the wind drifted it about in fury, when, a little before midnight, the two tailors (for Jeremiah, from fear of Mrs. Chiselwig’s wrath, had thought it best to accompany his brother) were moving in the direction of the Rough Wood, situated at a short distance from the town. The priest, it will be recollected, had termed the cypress black; but it had now changed colours, and was white enough. Gideon’s nightcap was still red, for, at his request, Jeremiah took it from the head repeatedly, and dashed the snow from it, lest it should lose any of its power, to call up some rather unpleasant sensations in the mind of Satan. Many were the misfortunes which befel them on the way; now wandering from their course, and now stumbling into a deep wreath of snow. “Gideon’s courage, however, was not to dissolve thereby, and wearied as he was, by carrying the cypress, and dragging Jeremiah, he still persevered, and at length reached the entrance of the wood. They passed on to a convenient station, Jeremiah starting when large flakes of snow fell upon his face, from the trees. “No more, no more,” said Gideon, making a halt near to some overgrown firs, and his voice sounded so hollow, even to himself, that he almost began to be frightened. “Here is the scene of the horrible enchantment; Jeremiah, brush my nightcap, whilst I elevate the cypress on that huge branch.” “Aye, aye, brother, raise it high. The book said that he would appear at the top; do not allow him to come too near, for I never relished sulphur much.” When all things were in readiness, the nightcap adjusted, and the cypress fixed, the brave knight of the needle, in a firm voice, cried out,-- “Come, James, come!” A flash of lightning gleamed over their heads, and a voice, by no means musical, though merrily attuned, amidst hollow laughter, said,-- “Here, Gideon, here.”