But hark! what comes here?  Room for another element.  ’Tis the windstorm, that comes to partake in the triumph of the victory which his ministers have assisted to gain.  But lo! here he comes in person; and now they unite—­or how?—­Do they oppose each other?  Here does the windstorm drive back the god of fire from his victim; again the fiery god attempts to reach it; and again he feels that he has met more than his match.  Once, twice, thrice he has failed in getting at it.  But is this conflict real—­this fierce battle between the elements?  Alas, no; they are both tyrants, and what is to be expected?

The wind god, always unsteady, wheels round, comes to the assistance of his opponent, and gives him new courage, new vigor, and new strength.  But his inferior ministers must have a share of this dreadful repast.  Off go a thousand masses of burning material, whirling along.  Off go the; glowing timbers and rafters, on the wind, by which they are borne in thousands of red meteors across the sky.  But hark, again!  Room for the whirlwind!  Here it comes, and addresses itself to yon tall and waving pyramid; they embrace; the pyramid is twisted into the figure of a gigantic corkscrew—­round they go, rapid as thought; the thunder of the wind supplies them with the appropriate music, and continues until; this terrible and gigantic waltz of the elements is concluded.  But now these fearful ravagers are satisfied, because they have nothing more on which they can glut themselves.  They appear, however, to be seated.  The wind has become low, and is only able to work up a feeble effort at its former strength.  The flames, too, are subsiding—­their power is gone; occasional jets of fire I come forth, but they instantly disappear.  By degrees, and one after another, they vanish.  Nothing now is visible but smoke, and every thing is considered as over—­when lo! like a great general, who has achieved a triumphant victory, it is deemed right to; take a last look at the position of the enemy.  Up, therefore, starts an unexpected burst of flame—­blazes for a while; looks about it, as it were; sees that the victory is complete, and drops down into the darkness from which it came.  The conflagration is over; the wind-storm is also appeased.  Small hollow gusts, amongst the trees and elsewhere, are now all that are heard.  By degrees, even these cease; and the wind is now such as it was in the course of the evening, when the elements were comparatively quiet and still.

Mr. Brown and his friend, Mr. Hastings, having waited until they saw the last rafter of unfortunate Reilly’s house and premises sink into a black mass of smoking ruins, turned their steps to the parsonage, which they had no sooner entered than they went immediately to Reilly’s room, who was still there under concealment.  Mr. Brown, however, went out again and returned with some wine, which he placed upon the table.

“Gentlemen,” said Reilly, “this has become an awful night; the wind has been tremendous, and has done a good deal of damage, I fear, to your house and premises, Mr. Brown.  I heard the slates falling about in great numbers; and the inmates of the house were, as far as I could judge, exceedingly alarmed.”