"'If more proof is wanting,' resumed the parson, after a pause, 'only look to his dress. What Christian would think of travelling about the country in red? It is a type of the hell-fire from which he is sprung.' 'Did you observe his hair hanging down his back like a bunch of carrots?' asked the exciseman. 'Such a diabolical glance in his eye!' said the schoolmaster. 'Such a voice!' added the landlord: 'it is like the sound of a cracked clarionet.' 'His feet are not cloven,' observed the landlady. 'No matter,' exclaimed the landlord, 'the devil, when he chooses, can have as good legs as his neighbours.' 'Better than some of them,' quoth the lady, looking peevishly at the lower limbs of her husband. Meanwhile the incessant treading continued unabated, although two long hours had passed since its commencement. There was not the slightest cessation to the sound, while out of doors the storm raged with violence, and in the midst of it the hideous neighing and stamping of the black horse were heard with pre-eminent loudness. At this time the fire of the kitchen began to burn low; the sparkling blaze was gone, and in its stead nothing but a dead red lustre emanated from the grate. One candle had just expired, having burned down to the socket; of the one which remained, the unsnuffed wick was nearly three inches in length, black and crooked at the point, and standing like a ruined tower amid an envelopement of sickly yellow flame; while around the fire's equally decaying lustre sat the frightened _coterie_, narrowing their circle as its brilliancy faded away, and eyeing each other like apparitions amidst the increasing gloom.