sion of rage and astonishment more
easy to conceive than to portray. Volleys of oaths and inarticulate
sounds burst out from his wrath, almost too big for utterance. When
reinstated in that posture which is the distinctive characteristic of
man, he did not attempt to administer his vindictive retribution by
proxy. Laying hold on a tough cudgel, he gave it one ominous swing,
describing an arc of sufficient magnitude to have laid an army
prostrate. He then pursued the luckless emissary of the Evil One,
roaring and foaming with this unusual exertion. There was now no lack of
activity. A hawk among the chickens, or a fox in a farm-yard, were
nothing to it. Sometimes was seen the doughty Sir Ralph driving the
whole herd before him like a flock of sheep; but the original cause of
the mischief generally contrived to mingle with the rabble rout, who in
vain attempted to rid themselves of his company. The knight was not
over-nice in the just administration of his discipline. Often, when he
thought himself near enough for its accomplishment, he aimed a terrific
blow, but shot wide of the mark, bringing down the innocent and
unoffending victims, who strewed the floor like swaths behind the mower.
Whenever a lucky individual could disentangle himself from his comrades,
he darted through the door, and in spite of the storm and pitchy
darkness without, thought himself too happy in escaping with a few holes
in his skin. Yet he of the horns and tail, by some chance or another,
always passed unhurt; a hideous laugh accompanying the adroit
contrivances by which he eluded the cudgel.

The hall was now but scantily supplied with guests; the runaways and
wounded having diminished the numbers to some half-score. A parley was
now sounded by the victorious and pursuing enemy.

"Hold, ye lubberly rascals! Ye scum--ye recrement--why do ye run?" said
the knight, puffing with great vigour. "I say, why run ye!" brandishing
his club. "Bring hither that limb of Satan, and ye shall depart every
one to his home. Lay hold of him, I tell ye, and begone."

But these terms of capitulation were by no means so easy to accept as
the proposer imagined.

The first mover of the mischief had gotten himself perched on a
projecting ledge by the gallery, from whence they were either unable or
unwilling to dislodge him.

"How!" said the knight. "Ye are afraid, cowards, I trow. Now will I have
at thee, for once. I'll spoil thy capering!" This threat was followed