with in the next world.

For an hour or more he sat in his elbow-chair, puzzling over the
professor's "diviltries," and crossing himself at the remembrance of
each one of them. It was black midnight, and stormy at that; there was
such an uproar in the elm branches over his house as if all the Salem
witches were holding Sabbath there; the whole village of Sableburg
swarmed with windy rushings and shriekings and slammings. It was one of
those midnights when the devil evidently "has business on his hand."

Of a sudden there was a rustle in the room, and looking around to
discover the cause of it, Father Higgins beheld a tall and dark man with
startling black eyes, in whom he recognized Professor Heller.

"What's yer will, sir?" demanded the Father, a good deal astonished, but
not a bit frightened.

"I understand, sir, that you would like to be a bishop," replied the
professor, bowing politely, but seating himself unceremoniously.

"That's thrue enough, sir," replied Father Higgins, who somehow felt
curiously at his ease, and disposed at once to be confidential with this
utter stranger. "I've often imagined meself a bishop, an' doin' wondhers
in me office. But it's nonsinse."

"What post would suit you?" inquired the visitor. "The diocese of New
York?"

"No, no," said the father. "I'm not ayqual to sich a risponsebility;
that is, not at wanst, ye ondherstand. I'd like best to come up to sich