middle of a vast building which looked like a Church, though there was no sacred emblem of religion to be seen anywhere in it save the Pulpit. The Pulpit stood out with singular obtrusiveness, for it was green,--a livid, wicked green like the glare of a serpent’s eye. Panels of white appeared to be inserted round it, but these could not be plainly discerned, at once. The green hue was its chief note of attraction, and McNason’s eyes fastened themselves upon this with a pertinacity surely inspired by some other influence than his own. Breathless, shivering and exhausted as he was, there was something about that Green Pulpit which, wholly against his will, compelled his attention,--and as he looked, he heard a sudden confused murmur of voices which, beginning softly at first, grew louder and louder till it rose into a perfect pandemonium of howling! The unhappy millionaire trembled. What new and nameless horror was there yet in store for him? Involuntarily he turned to look for the Goblin,--even _that_ uncanny Presence seemed kinder and more friendly than such a dreadful uproar of unknown tongues! And he was actually glad to see it still standing beside him, its round eyes sparkling with a strange light of mingled mirth and malice. “Well, McNason, how do you feel after your airship voyage?” it inquired--“A bit air-sick?” Here the howling voices grew fiercer and more shrill,--and yet the alarmed Josiah could see nothing. He felt desperately inclined to take hold of the Goblin’s claw for protection. “What--what’s that?” he stammered. “Only Church!” replied the Goblin--“Firebrand is a strong preacher! He ‘draws’ like a magnet--or a dentist. There’s always a crowded congregation to hear him.”