back to us until the guest house had swallowed him and his guilty terrors.

“Can the preacher play the devil too?” I asked, as Sparrow came up to us from the other side of the fire. “I could have sworn that that voice came from the bowels of the earth. ‘T is the strangest gift!”

“A mere trick,” he said, with his great laugh, “but it has served me well on more occasions than one. It is not known in Virginia, sir, but before ever the word of the Lord came to me to save poor silly souls I was a player. Once I played the King’s ghost in Will Shakespeare’s ‘Hamlet,’ and then, I warrant you, I spoke from the cellarage indeed. I so frighted players and playgoers that they swore it was witchcraft, and Burbage’s knees did