After he had beaten down all my defences, he began to jeer at me with fierce sneers and goblin laughter that froze my blood. 'So _I_ was the contemptible manikin who dared to entertain the idea of equality with him--the Star of the Morning--one breath of whose nostrils would wither me into nonentity. So _I_ presumed to stand up and face him, who had, in his time, scattered the hosts of heaven! If it were not for those cursed, white-livered _things_ (angels) that stood in the way, he would swoop down and destroy me in an instant.' Having found and maintained foothold for several minutes on the rock of hope, I began to consider how weak things had of erst confounded the things that were mighty, and soon the wirepullers behind the scenes (whoever they were) had me smiting him hip and thigh. I 'began in weakness, but ended in power.' At first a few muttered remonstrances, but finally whole Ironsides broadsides, with the result above named. The words of my antagonist, during this encounter, rang through my brain with awful distinctness. For a day or two I had been communicating partly with the pencil, and partly by clairaudience, eked out by writing in the air with my forefinger. But this demon, or demon _pro tem._, needed not to write his words: his 'trumpet gave no uncertain sound.' The thoughtful reader will perceive what a strong point my magnetizers gained by this scene. After disappointing me so many times, they could not, with all their power over me, have kept me from throwing the whole thing overboard, without resorting to some such _coup d'etat_. Being, doubtless, on better terms with the infernal than with the supernal regions, these denizens of the Intermediate Limbo (we will suppose that my strange guests were mostly of this sort of nondescripts) had perhaps induced some _bona fide_ demon to act the part of the king of them all, 'for this night only.' It certainly was an immense success. I, to be sure, had not received the expected commission: but had I not fought the great red dragon, and, like another St. George, pinned him to the earth, through supernatural aid? Here was a substantial success. I write this merrily enough now; but was not often merry then--was indeed acting great, real tragedy. I was not long to enjoy this triumph. The word came: 'Again he comes!' Then I had another long, hard fight; but this time was not pushed so near the wall. I was then told by my spiritual adviser and Circe of the unbounded admiration expressed for me by those who had listened to this 'ever-memorable' disputation.