Church!--a strong preacher!--a crowded congregation! McNason stared and stared, seeing nothing but the Green Pulpit and empty space, till all at once the Goblin took off its conical cap and with the tasselled point of that headgear touched his eyes. Then--then--oh, then! But who can describe that “then”! Who in mere words can picture the amazing scene disclosed of which he, Josiah McNason, was a part, and to which he seemed to be the only human witness! All round him, in front of him and behind him were Goblins,--Goblins big, Goblins little, Goblins fat, Goblins lean, Goblins straight, Goblins crooked--Goblins of every imaginable size and shape--Goblins of every possible distortion or monstrosity that ever appeared on the pages of a child’s fairy book, were here in their scores, and all attired in the queerest motley. Some wore women’s enormous hats trimmed with fantastic bows of ribbon and big waggling plumes,--others had coloured caps like those which are put into very cheap Christmas crackers,--some were decked out with flashy tiaras and crowns that looked as if they were cut out of tin-foil,--others again had their strange sticky hair dressed as high as surely an hair, sticky or otherwise, could go, and surmounted with fantastic wreaths and garlands of bright coloured flowers apparently made of paper, under which they minced and grinned like female gymnasts at a rough country fair,--and all of them were jostling, pushing, squeezing, and crowding together, each one taking a seemingly mischievous delight in trying to elbow its neighbour out of place. It was a fearsome sight!--and still more fearsome did it become when a great ball of fire suddenly bounced down from Nowhere and burst with a loud report at the foot of the Green Pulpit, where, spreading out a peacock’s tail of vivid flame, it lit up the wicked livid colour of that edifice with blinding brilliancy. Josiah McNason’s soul froze within him. He was dead, he thought!--he must be dead! In a swooning access of speechless terror he clung to the Goblin, and was in a vague way comforted when it tucked its hairy arm through his and leered at him quite amicably. “Don’t be nervous, McNason!” it said, “It’s all right! Firebrand always likes the electricity turned on when he preaches! He’s the ‘star’ actor of the piece, you see,--the light must show him up more than anyone else. There he is!”