Chapter III: Part 3

As Lyford descended from the tree, he saw a dark object on the snow, about a quarter of a mile distant, and in the direction of what appeared to be the road. It first seemed like the trunk of a tree, which had been burned to a coal, yet he soon perceived it had a slow motion towards him. His curiosity was strongly excited, and he gazed with increasing interest, until the outlines of a human figure were distinctly visible, as it dragged its slow pace through the heavy snow drifts towards Lyford. In about an hour from the time he was discovered, Pompey--for it was no other than he--stood before Lyford, who was extremely perplexed and surprised at his sudden appearance.

'Be this you, Massa James?' said Pompey. 'How came you up in dis tree, and among dese snow banks?'

'It will be time enough to ask these questions when I get out. But what brings you here, Pompey?'

'Come to find you, Massa. Went to Wooster first, but no Massa Lyford there--so I came all the way here. Will you tell me, Massa, where I get something to eat?'

'All in good time. But where did you stay last night, Pompey?--you could hardly walk a mile a day through such snow drifts as these.'

'Staid in the trunk of a tree, Massa, these two nights, and glad to get there,--snow storm drove me in. I look out to-day, and saw a man climb a tree. I thought if Pompey get to that man, he may find something better than snow to eat.'

'Hard fare, Pompey; how do you like this blessed land now?'

'Nothing but trouble in it, Massa James; kicks, prisons, and snow-storms. No such things in Virginny. Hope Massa Walter send me back before de debils carry me off. Boston and Salem full of debils as dey can hold; de women full of debils, too, and de men running as if de debils were after them. Here's a letter for you, Massa Lyford.'

James took Pompey to the shed, where the poor negro obtained some food, and was soon in a condition to give some further account of himself. The letter he brought was from Strale, in which he requested Lyford to return without delay. He stated that universal distrust prevailed, and that consternation and dismay extended to every circle; the regular studies at college were interrupted, accusations for witchcraft were coming in from every quarter, and it was fully believed the reign of Satan had commenced. For himself, he held the popular notions in utter contempt; but it was foolish and dangerous to oppose them openly, and he begged that Lyford would not tarry at Worcester, but return at once, as his counsel and assistance might be necessary; and as no one was safe, it was better for him to be at home, where such measures might be adopted, as the course of events should require.

Walter had despatched this letter to Worcester, in the expectation that Lyford was there; but the faithful negro, finding he had not arrived, pushed on towards Hadley, until driven by the snow-storm into such shelter as he could find, when he fortunately discovered Lyford in the manner we have related.

It was impossible to leave the shed with any hope of making progress through the snow; the travellers were therefore compelled to wait for a change of weather. They succeeded in procuring wood enough in the neighborhood to keep up their fire, and by good management they were tolerably comfortable for a few days. During this time, the solitary waste was cheered by no voice or track of man; all was silent, save that now and then the loud report of Lyford's rifle, aimed at some passing wild-fowl, sent its echoes among the trees: but on the sixth day a gentle south wind sprung up, which was soon followed by a cloudy sky, and in the evening torrents of rain began to fall, which deluged the country like a flood. It continued all the next day, and it was with great difficulty a dry spot could be preserved in the shed. In the evening it cleared up; the wind suddenly changed to north-west, and became extremely cold. The next day, being the eighth from the time they first entered the shed, the travellers were again on their way over a smooth surface of snow and ice; and in two hours the little cluster of houses at the settlement, with its white church spire, greeted their eyes, and gave them promise of refreshment and rest.

Such adventures as these were very common among the pioneers of New England. Her vigorous and hardy population, despising the rigor of the climate, penetrated her deepest recesses, planted themselves in the midst of her forests, and there, rich in contentment, in honest industry and vigorous health, and above all in the unfettered exercise of the rights of conscience, they fulfilled their work on earth, and calmly and peacefully descended to their graves. Other generations like themselves have filled the land; the welcome of hospitality, the house of God, the family altar, the blessed Bible, and the thousand endearments of home and friends,--these, all these, and unnumbered other blessings, have been conferred upon New England by her primitive inhabitants, and are at once the monuments of their fidelity, and the pledges that if the sons walk in the footsteps of the fathers, she will continue to advance in national eminence and glory.

CHAPTER EIGHTH.

The demon of superstition was now abroad in New England. The unaccountable delusion of witchcraft so pervaded the public mind, that suspicions and jealousies were engendered among the nearest friends; perplexity and astonishment were visible in every countenance. So strange were the movements of those who were supposed to be affected by demons, and such the confessions of reputed witches, that men of sober judgment and highly gifted minds were involved in the general belief, and united in the execration of those who were believed to be confederate with Satan and his emissaries. Neither age nor rank were exempted from suspicion, and those who were charged with practicing witchcraft upon almost any testimony, were arrested and committed to prison. Many deserted their homes and went into other parts of the country; days of fasting and prayer were multiplied; parts of the Bible were hung around the neck, as a defence against the power of the devil; and a constant dread of the black book which was supposed to be in circulation among the witches, and was said to contain the terms of treaty with Satan, kept the minds of the credulous in constant distress and anxiety.

This delusion, it is well known, prevailed mostly in Salem and its vicinity. To the disturbed fancies of the populace, the very air was peopled with demons, and Satan, loosed from his chains, was tormenting men before their time. A few persons withstood the delusion, but it was at the peril of their lives, if they attempted open opposition: such was the popular frenzy that, if any question were raised as to the reality of these unseen agencies, it was considered a fair case for prosecution, and the bold innovator was in constant peril of reputation and life. Still there were some who had the courage to remonstrate, and who employed every art of persuasion and influence to stay the ruin which they saw was coming on the land. They also favored the escape of many who were accused; and, though believers themselves, to a certain extent, in this kind of Satanic influence, they always opposed those measures of cruelty and shame, in which the fatal tragedy was finally closed.

Among these benevolent and excellent men, the names of Willard of Boston, Brattle of Cambridge and Higginson of Salem are most conspicuous. These gentlemen refused all part in the witch prosecutions, and earnestly protested against bringing the crime of witchcraft before the civil tribunals, alleging that the individuals charged with this sin were in the hands of God, who alone had a right to punish them, and that the liability to mistake in the nature of the evidence, and the want of a just discrimination, on a subject so mysterious, entirely disqualified the courts to act upon such cases. Their efforts, however, were in vain; yet it may be reasonably believed that, to some extent, they were able to modify and soften the proceedings of the courts, though it was impossible to control or suppress them.

Lyford started for Boston about the tenth of March, spending but a single day at Worcester. The people at this settlement were astonished at the tidings which reached them from Boston and Salem; but they were fortunate enough to escape the mania, and, though disposed to the same general belief, they viewed the cases of such as were accused in a much more calm and benevolent light, and were disposed to regard them as subjects of pity and prayer rather than as outcasts from God and man. But as Lyford approached Boston, he discovered among the people a bitter hatred of the supposed witches, and a belief that no service could be more pleasing to God than to destroy them utterly from the land. He saw at once the terrible engine of power, which designing men might seize to punish private wrongs, and push their projects of revenge for real or supposed injuries. He knew the self-blinding power of the human mind, and how readily its dark purposes assume the form of religious duties and wear the counterfeit of the heavenly graces. And it was this view that filled him with apprehensions and forebodings, which neither conscious rectitude nor the power of reason could allay.

It was the first object of Lyford, after seeing Strale, to visit his sister at Salem; but as he could give no satisfactory reason for his journey, without disclosing his relation to Mary, the government of the college refused his request, and his long absence in the winter was assigned as the cause. In this dilemma, it was determined that Walter, to whom this objection did not apply, should visit Salem and ascertain the true state of things, and the danger, if any, to which Mary might be exposed. The engagement of the parties was now publicly known, and Walter's request was immediately granted.

On his arrival at Salem, which was about the latter part of March, he found such a state of consternation and terror as could scarcely be described. Witches were every where. They would flit through the streets after sunset; and at an early hour in the evening, demons, with long tails and cloven feet, were stalking about, partly concealed in mists and shadows, but taking care to show enough of their origin to keep the good people of Salem within doors after dark, and thus they had the whole promenade to themselves. Some of the old ladies averred that they were visible in the day time, and that one of them was perched in Mr. Higginson's pulpit on a Sabbath afternoon and kept the place till the good man opened the Bible and read the passage about resisting the devil, when he suddenly decamped, leaving behind him a long train of fire, and filling the church with the fumes of sulphur. Mr. Higginson did not, however, appear conscious of the victory he had attained; for, when told of it the next day, he remarked, that he never supposed such extraordinary power in any one passage of the Bible; but since the testimony was so clear, he hoped they now possessed the means of expelling all the evil spirits in Salem, and he prayed that his people would not fail to use these weapons, as they were certainly lawful, and their own observation had shown them to be successful.

Mary Graham had resided, for several years, in the family of Mr. Ellerson. This gentleman was of course acquainted with all the circumstances of her history, and had manifested towards her the utmost kindness and friendship. In fact, no one, at all acquainted with Miss Graham, could fail to esteem and admire her character. It had been the special care of Mrs. Ellerson to instruct her in all the pleasing accomplishments of genteel life, and at the same time, to restrain her from those amusements and follies, which dissipate the mind and unfit it for religious contemplation and duty; she therefore gave, as much as possible, a serious complexion to her studies and seasons of social enjoyment. The pupil well repaid the care of the teacher, and, at the age of eighteen, beautiful, accomplished and beloved by all, she entered the best circles, and we have already had some glimpses of the virtues which adorned her character. Mr. and Mrs. Ellerson had been consulted in every stage of her relations to Strale, and the affair was not concluded without their entire concurrence and approval. Walter was of course a welcome visiter at their house, whenever he had opportunity and leave of absence from college. But these seasons were necessarily very infrequent, as the college discipline allowed little time for recreation, and required a strict attention to the regular studies.

The circumstances in which Walter now found his friends, were altogether new and peculiar. A gloom was spread over the town, which was relieved by no cheerful meetings of friends, no lively airs of music, nor even the busy hum of trade. The streets of the village were silent as the fields that surrounded them, and the necessary offices of kindred and friendship were imbittered by suspicion, and discharged with indifference and coldness. The common ties of relationship and affection were nearly dissolved, and piety itself was forced into unnatural relations with credulity and superstition.

About twenty persons were now in prison, awaiting their trial for practicing witchcraft; others were daily suspected and arrested; and there was scarcely an individual in Salem, who was not more or less under the influence of this delusion. Mr. and Mrs. Ellerson were among the most incredulous; yet facts and statements were daily going the rounds, which were so well supported, and the reality of this mystical influence was so generally believed, that persons as reflecting and considerate even as they were, did not escape the incipient stages of the public malady.

The hour for tea had nearly arrived, when Walter entered the parlor of Mr. Ellerson. Mary was not at home, having engaged to pass the afternoon and evening with the Misses Higginson. Mr. and Mrs. Ellerson were also absent, and Walter, after having spent an hour with Mary and her companions, and engaged to return for her in the evening, went back to await the arrival of his friends, the Ellersons. They returned about seven o'clock, and the conversation was very soon directed to the prevailing topic of the day.

'You have a strange atmosphere in Salem,' said Walter; 'every thing looks unnatural and melancholy; I hope the witches have kept away from your house, Mr. Ellerson?'

'They would not find very pleasant quarters here, Walter; but as all the other houses in town are full, they may for want of better accommodations force their way in. Their reception might be somewhat cold, but I am told they are not very scrupulous where they once get possession.'

'It is a singular business,' replied Walter; 'but the more I think of it, the stronger is my conviction that it is all a fatal delusion, foolish, wonderful, and wicked. I have no patience with such follies. I have heard to-day stranger things than I ever read in the tales of the fairies, the legends of Bagdad, or the whole system of pagan fables.'

'You are always rash, Walter. You must look at the evidence in favor of any alleged fact, however strange, before you decide against its truth. Have you seen any who profess to be troubled by witches?'

'I have not,' said Walter; 'but that makes no difference; the stories are incredible. There is no such influence at the present day, if there ever was.'

'I am going this evening, Walter,' said Mr. Ellerson, 'to see for myself. There is a reputed witch, and a person said to be afflicted by her, who reside about half a mile from us. I shall be glad if you will go with me.'

'Nothing will please me better,' said Walter. 'I have often felt the influence of Satan, but have never seen him, and if he now makes his appearance in this gross, terrestrial atmosphere, I would like to know if my senses can discern him. I think we shall see he has many ways of making fools of even sober and considerate men.'

In a short time they set off, and a walk of ten minutes among the pleasant gardens and cottages of Salem, brought them to a house, where a crowd of people had gathered to witness the visible power of devils over men. As they entered the room, a female dressed in the rustic fashion of the country, was seated in a chair before them. She was pale and silent, but there was a wildness in her appearance, and a fierce expression in her eye, which indicated that strange elements were at work, suppressed for the time, but liable to act at any moment with fearful energy. A supposed witch was presently conducted into the room. She was an old lady, of tottering gait, and apparently in very feeble health, but perfectly self-possessed and quiet. At sight of her, the afflicted person sprang into the air, and uttering the wildest cries, she raved about the room, and was hardly restrained by the force of two men from escaping to the street. In a moment more, she sat down with comparative tranquillity; but again her frame was agitated, and she was suddenly lifted with no visible effort, and seemed for a moment suspended in the air; then falling on the floor, she was quiet a little while, when she gradually assumed a sitting posture, and began to reason with some master demon, and called upon the witch to cease her torment.

'I have nothing to do with your torment,' said the old lady.

'Then it is Satan that does it, by your means,' said the girl.

'I have nothing to do with Satan, and know not what your torments are,' was the reply.

'That is the way Satan blinds you. When you are gone, I have no suffering.'

'You have greatly wronged me,' replied the lady; 'and on this account I have no doubt my presence is painful to you. I hope God will forgive you, and restore that reason, which in his inscrutable wisdom he has taken away.'

The old lady was now removed from the room, when the afflicted person relapsed into a state of quiet, which was of course attributed to the absence of the exciting cause.

'This is a juggler's game, Mr. Ellerson,' said Walter; 'that person accused is no more a witch than I am. If it be not an intended cheat, it is a diseased mind, or a nervous irritability, which has been trained into a system, and acts with some regularity. These people are some of them knaves, and most of the remainder are fools; the reputed witch is the only one in her right mind.'

'I cannot decide so readily as you. There is some evidence in the Scriptures of the reality of visible, Satanic influence, but I am inclined to believe there has been little, if any of it, since the Christian era; but how that female preserves her stationary posture in the air, with no visible support, I cannot imagine. If you, Walter, are wise on this point, I wish you would enlighten me.'

'There is some mystery in it,' said Strale, 'but so there is in every thing. To believe such follies we must renounce common sense, and I had almost said a belief in a beneficent Providence. I have seen persons poised on the fingers of others, in such a manner as to be apparently unaffected by gravitation; the cause, no one explains; but if such cases are scrutinized, it will doubtless be found they are perfectly consistent with natural laws. Think you, Mr. Ellerson, it is possible that the devil has such power on earth?'

'He is the prince of the power of the air,' replied Mr. Ellerson. 'We know that in the time of Christ, he did exercise power over the bodies and minds of men, and may it not be impious in us to deny that he has such influence now, though it may be in less degree?'

'I would not be impious or irreverent on this or any other subject,' rejoined Walter; 'yet there are so many natural causes, which may account for these things, that I am very slow to attribute them to the agency of Satan. I believe a limited power over man is possessed by the arch apostate, but it seems to me the period of its physical developement was confined to the early ages of the Christian church, just as the age of miracles was measured and limited by the necessities of the church. I doubt not he retains power to tempt men. I have felt it myself, alas! too often; but, Mr. Ellerson, since I have known Mary, she has led me to a brighter path of contemplation and hope. I would be no visionary theorist; I would be an humble, serious, every-day Christian.'

'Such, dear Walter, I would have you to be. Such, indeed, I trust you are,' replied Mr. Ellerson. 'True piety enlightens as well as purifies; and let not, I pray you, this mysterious delusion, for such I must regard it, disturb your faith in that Gospel, which must be your only hope, for time and eternity. What will be the issue of these troubles, no one can tell. A dark cloud has come over the land; when it shall pass away is known only to Him, to whom darkness and the day are alike.'

They had now reached Mr. Ellerson's dwelling. It was a beautiful habitation, and the moon was shining brightly over the garden and a neighboring grove, and falling in placid radiance on a little stream which glided through the field. That spot is now covered by mansions of opulence and comparative grandeur; but the romance of the scene has passed away, the white fence of the garden is broken down; the bed of the stream is covered by the green earth, and the moonbeams shine over the works of taste and art; but not with the simplicity and grace in which they danced upon the forest oak and the tangled grove.

Walter remained a few days at Salem, and notwithstanding the state of things around him, it was one of the happiest periods of his life: another and a sweeter illusion occupied his mind; the bright pictures of coming days, undefaced by a single visible stain, passed in rapid succession before his charmed imagination; the hopes of future years gathered in beautiful groups on his eye, while he felt that the lovely object, around which these visions were glittering, would soon be his own.

During this brief period, the conversation of the two friends was devoted mainly to the subject of religion. The holy influences of the Gospel had found their way to the mind and heart of Strale. He saw in a new light the wonderful scheme of redemption; he admired and adored the grace which had made him a partaker of its blessings, and he resolved that his whole future life should illustrate its excellence and glory.

We need not speak of the joy that glowed in the heart of Mary, as she beheld and admired the change. Her cup of worldly happiness was full to overflowing; she looked even upon the distracted community around her in a calm reliance on Him who controls the tempest and stills its rage; but she saw not the dark cloud that was even then gathering in her sky; she heard not the dashing of those waves, which were soon to ingulf her dearest hopes. The song of the sirens was too sweet to be hushed by the distant thunder, and her unconscious feet were already treading on the fatal shore.

CHAPTER NINTH.

Nothing is more essential to a well-ordered civil government, than a well-balanced public mind; for want of this, in different ages, laws have been framed and penalties executed in cases which go beyond the reach of human investigation, and relate to subjects of which we can form only faint and obscure conceptions, and consequently all the evidence touching such cases is more or less to be distrusted.

At the period we are now contemplating, the connection between the spiritual world and the physical being of man was supposed to be developed in an extraordinary degree. It was believed the boundaries between the material and invisible states were more clearly defined, and that strange and startling intercourse was held by mysterious agents, on these border territories. It was indeed no novelty in those days for the civil courts to claim jurisdiction over the rambling vagaries of the mind, and so far as any law affecting the social or civil compact was plainly violated, it was certainly within their office to punish the offence; but the courts travelled out of their way, and, invading the natural rights of man, they entered a field of inquiry, whose dim and uncertain forms could never be reduced to facts, or supply materials of evidence, on which a sober mind could rely. Of this nature was the court organized by Sir William Phipps, for the trial and punishment of witches. It had no legitimate character, and the functions it assumed were entirely beyond the rights of any earthly tribunal. Nevertheless, its authority was acknowledged, and its stern and dreadful mandates were obeyed as promptly as they were issued. The influence of this court, by giving judicial sanction to the extravagances of the times, tended very much to strengthen and prolong the delusion, and the remarkable infatuation of the judges overcame the plain common sense of the jury, which but for their influence would soon have checked the mania, and restored the public mind to calmness and reason.

We have before remarked, that Mr. Willard, the minister of the South Church, was strongly opposed to the proceedings of the courts. This was the more remarkable from the fact, that the chief justice and two of the judges were members of his church. Mr. Willard admitted the possibility of Satanic influence, but he denied that it was visible in any such form as to warrant judicial interference. He remonstrated with great earnestness against the general movements, and there is no doubt he suffered so much reproach on this account, that his remarkable talents and exemplary piety could scarcely sustain him. It is certain also, that he was accused of practicing witchcraft, and though the complaint was rejected by the court, there were not wanting those who believed him confederate with Satan, and a direct agent in promoting his designs upon the people of New England. There were some, however, who took Mr. Willard's ground, and boldly maintained that the court was illegal, and could not in any sense take cognizance of such matters. We have already mentioned Thomas Brattle and John Leverett, tutors of Harvard College; and there is good reason to believe President Mather was of the same opinion, and attempted to restrain the popular feeling; but no one was more bold than Robert Calef, an eminent merchant of Boston, whose views on the subject were as sound and discriminating as those of any man of that age. No individual did more to dispel the delusion, and the records he has left behind have reared an imperishable monument to his courage, fidelity, and success.

Miss Graham had accepted an invitation from her friend Miss Elliott, to spend the last two weeks of May in Boston. An intimate and endeared friendship now existed between these two young ladies. It was greatly promoted by Lyford, who had carefully studied the character of his sister's friend, and there was no one in his judgment who surpassed Miss Elliott in moral excellence, as well as mental accomplishments. Every attention had been bestowed upon her education; and though her manners and appearance were more formal and stately than comported with the simplicity of the times, yet she universally secured the respect and good-will of all classes in society.

It was grateful to Mary's feelings to retire for a while from the painful scenes she was every day compelled to witness at home. Her health and spirits were sinking under the strange excitement which pervaded the community at Salem and its neighborhood, and the change she sought was now absolutely necessary. The two friends were entirely agreed in matters of religious faith, and their intercourse with the world was regulated by a scrupulous regard to Christian decorum and example. The fashionable society of Boston was at that time professedly religious; the outward forms of devotion were generally and greatly respected; yet a powerful current of worldly influence was visible, and the clergymen of those days complained that the vital power of the Gospel was far too little manifested, in the lives and conversation of its professors.

On Miss Graham's arrival at Boston, she was visited by all her friends; but the usual routine of social parties was now nearly suspended. The painful suspicions and jealousies that were abroad had interrupted the peace of families, and extensive divisions in the churches and in general society were disturbing the public harmony, and shaking the foundations of social confidence in a most alarming degree. Still the state of things was far better than in Salem; and though the popular feeling even in Boston went along with the belief in supernatural agencies, yet there was enough of common sense remaining to oppose a formidable barrier to the action of courts and judges in the business. This conservative influence prevailed most in the first and third churches; but in the congregation of Cotton Mather, which was very large, there was scarcely a dissenting voice from the general belief, and the Sabbath day exercises at the North Church were almost exclusively governed by the impressions of an invisible world; and the church itself was regarded as the grand post of observation, from which the march and countermarch of Satan's ranks were discerned, while he moved at their head, enlisting recruits for his new kingdom, about to be established.

On the last week in May, a day of fasting and prayer had been solemnly observed in reference to the prevailing calamities. The point of Satan's visible agency was now scarcely disputed, and those who doubted or disbelieved were in too much personal danger to make any public protest against the prevalent doctrines; yet it was scarcely possible for one who entertained such views as Walter to avoid an occasional sarcasm; and Miss Graham herself was disposed to treat the subject with lightness, in the hope that its folly might in this way be more readily seen. The high standing they occupied was to some extent security from danger. But, on the other hand, there was a feeling of envy and jealousy towards the unsuspecting maiden, which soon involved her in suspicions; and Miss Hallam, who regarded Walter's attachment to Mary with extreme displeasure, availed herself of the general distrust to produce unfavorable impressions wherever her influence extended.

In this state of things the last Sabbath in May arrived. The religious exercises of the week had prepared the people to expect that their ministers would follow up the subject, and give such views of the whole case as comported with their own convictions, and the teachings of Scripture. The day was singularly beautiful; the freshness of its early dawning, and the summer breezes, that were diffusing life and joyousness around, were expressive of a mild and beneficent Providence; but Nature in her calm and delightful aspect, was all unconscious of the dark figures and mysterious demons, that were thronging the imaginations of men; her morning hymn was ascending in grateful chorus from forest, valley, and stream; but she was no longer the handmaid of devotion, for man refused to mingle in her silent or audible aspirations, or in any sense, to bend the knee at her shrine.

At ten o'clock, the bells rang for public worship, and the streets, which till then had been silent as the desert, were now thronged with multitudes on their way to the house of God. Sadness and sorrow were visible in every countenance. The early flowers of spring, the narcissus, the violet, and the snow-drop, which were wont to adorn the dresses, or fringe the hair of the young and beautiful, were utterly neglected, and the silent processions moved along the streets to their respective places of worship, as if they were following the dead to their burial. Even the church bells, which sent their cheerful melodies among the valleys and rocks, now seemed to toll upon the ear, the funeral dirge of all that was bright and happy in the land; the merry laugh of childhood, the clear sunshine of the brow of youth, and the serene tranquillity of maturer years, were suppressed and clouded by an unseen yet terrible influence, before whose mysteries Reason was overthrown, and Religion herself was staggered.

Miss Elliott and Mary, accompanied by their brothers and Strale, left home at the usual time for public worship. As they passed along on their way to the South Church, they were deeply impressed with the state of feeling so obvious around them; to see their fellow beings enslaved by a superstition so unnatural and absurd; to be unable to break the fatal spell which had fallen upon nearly all, and to mark in the dim future those undefined yet assuredly fatal consequences, of whose nature and extent the worst apprehensions might be indulged, filled their minds with anxiety and sorrow. But they endeavored to turn from these sad meditations to the hopes and consolations of the Gospel they loved, and which they firmly believed would deliver the mind from its debasing thraldom, and give to its emancipated powers 'the glorious liberty of the sons of God.'

The South Church occupied the ground on which the present edifice stands, and its site was then called 'the Green.' It was constructed of cedar, and for those times it was an imposing and beautiful edifice; its tall spire, rising from the midst of a grove of buttonwood trees, and far above all surrounding objects, was gazed at with an interest and reverence which in these days is not often bestowed on those significant emblems which point upward to a 'house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.'

The pulpit was located, as now, in the northeast side of the building, and directly in front was a row of seats designed for and occupied by the elders. A small enclosure, still further in front, and facing the congregation, was occupied by the deacons, and before them was a platform, on which the leader of the music stood and conducted the psalmody, in which all who were able to sing, and some who were not, were in the habit of uniting.

On the present occasion, the service was commenced as usual by a prayer occupying about ten minutes, and followed by a psalm from the New-England version then in use, which was first read by Mr. Willard, and then given out by the ruling elder, line by line, to the congregation. The selection for the morning was the fifty-first psalm, and its penitential character was strikingly adapted to the time and circumstances of their worship. Many a charming voice united in the simple melody, and many a contrite heart mingled its confessions and prayers, in the true spirit of devotion, with those of the pious psalmist.

As we wish to bring into view the principal features of Sabbath-day worship in those times, we give the following version of the psalm, in the words in which it was sung:

'Have mercy upon me, oh God!
According to thy grace;
According to thy mercies great,
My trespasses deface.

'Oh! wash me throughly from my guilt,
And from my sin, me clear;
For I my trespass know, my sins
Before thee still appear.

'Of joy and gladness, make thou me
To hear again the voice;
That so the bones, which thou hast broke,
May cheerfully rejoice.

'From the beholding of my sin
Hide thou away thy face;
Likewise, all mine iniquities,
Oh! do thou clean deface.'

The musical critic may sneer at the peculiar metre and simple versification, but it is probable the true design of sacred music was far more readily attained in those days and in this homely garb, than it can be by the high pretensions and meretricious ornaments of its modern masters.

The position of Mr. Willard was one of painful embarrassment. He had publicly declared his dissent from the prevalent opinions, and in this advanced stage of the popular delusion, when its early opposers were every day falling into the ranks of its believers, it required no small share of moral courage to maintain his ground. It was expected he would now make known his opinions without reserve, and that these opinions would appear greatly modified, if not totally changed. In this expectation, the church was thronged by multitudes who were anxious to quote his name and authority in support of the wild theories, which were now so generally adopted and believed.

The prayer which followed the music was distinguished for its fervency and pathos, and as the pastor carried up the desires of the congregation in his own affecting and impressive language, the fixed and solemn attention of the audience, indicated that it was no formal service, but one in which all the powers of the soul were deeply absorbed. At the close of the prayer, another psalm was sung, in the following words:

'Thou hid'st in wrath and us pursuest,
Thou slay'st and dost not rue;
Thou so with clouds dost hide thyself,
Our prayer cannot pass through.

'Fear and a snare is come on us,
Waste and destruction;
For my folks' daughters, now mine eyes
Run water rivers down.

'Come thou into thy chambers, shut
Thy doors about thee fast;
Hide thou awhile, my people,
Awhile, till wrath be past.

'Lo! from his place God comes again
The world for sin to smite;
Earth will her blood reveal--her slain--
Earth will bring all to light.'

The text was then announced, and was at once indicative of the sentiments and designs of the preacher. It was the first verse of the fourth chapter of John's Epistle: 'Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they be of God.'

The preacher assumed as an undoubted fact, fully warranted by the Scriptures, that spiritual agencies for good and ill were constantly at work among men, but it was so difficult to define their nature, their peculiar offices, and the extent of their power, that it was our wisdom to avoid all speculation, except so far as was necessary to guard against practical error.

It was now a popular theory, that evil spirits assumed visible forms, and were permitted to make compacts or treaties with such as were pleased with their terms and conditions. This doctrine he denounced as in the highest degree absurd and dangerous, declaring it was a delusion fraught with the worst consequences, that the kind of evidence by which this theory was supported was totally unwarranted, and could not for a moment be trusted by a sound and discriminating mind.

He then proceeded to analyze the mind, its nature, its liability to mistake, its unsuspected deceits, its love of fable and delight in the marvellous and supernatural. He pointed out the frequent errors of the imagination; that it changes material substances, and creates in air, on earth, and in the ocean, innumerable shapes, which it clothes in beauty or gloom, according to the light in which these objects are contemplated. He then described its effects on the physical system, producing nervous agitation, fancied maladies, and strange distortions of the countenance, which it falsely attributes to unnatural and unreal causes.

Such being the character of the mind, it was impossible in the nature of the case to discriminate so accurately between its own actings and those of spiritual agents, as to measure the criminality of persons charged with the practice of witchcraft, or warrant the interference of the civil law. It often happens that a state of mind, supposed to be in the highest degree criminal, is the result of insanity and disease, and calls for sympathy and relief, instead of reproach and punishment; and in conclusion he declared his full conviction, that a lying spirit, like that of the prophets of Ahab, was now abroad in the land, and in the fulness of his grief over the public calamities, he entreated and charged his people to try the spirits, to criticise severely every ground of accusation; for among the devices of Satan, none were more common than deception and fraud, and it was not impossible for him to persuade even the pious to believe a lie, for he was a liar from the beginning, and himself the father of lies.

Such a sermon and at such a time, could not fail to produce a strong excitement. As the congregation retired from the house, signs of displeasure were manifest on every side. The high reverence in which the character of Mr. Willard had been held, could scarcely restrain the general feeling of anger; but there were some who deeply sympathized with their minister, and felt that this noble testimony against the prevailing delusion, was as imperiously demanded, as it was faithfully and fearlessly given.

CHAPTER TENTH.

'It is good to see a little light in these dark days,' said Lyford, addressing Miss Elliott on their return from church. 'Mr. Willard has acted the hero and the christian.'

'He has indeed,' said Margaret; 'I hope his counsels will be regarded; for I am confident he has given them at the risk of his life.'

'I never before heard a sermon,' said Lyford, 'which contained so much sound mental philosophy. If feeling and fanaticism condemn it, reason and common sense will approve. But he who has most of the former, and least of the latter, is counted the wisest man in these days.'

'Yet these are times,' said Margaret, 'in which the truly wise man may add vastly to his stock of wisdom. It is interesting after all to trace the windings and workings of this fanaticism, especially when it acts upon such minds as Cotton Mather's. This man is a perfect paradox to me. His mind is original and bold, yet his language is often so puerile as to disgrace his intellect. His manners and conversation are pleasing and often fascinating; he is beyond all his compeers in industry and intelligence, yet his pedantry and superstition are intolerable. I have a great desire to hear him preach this afternoon. Miss Graham also wishes to go; and as the occasion is so remarkable, I think we shall be justified in leaving our own church. If you and Mr. Strale will accompany us, your curiosity at least will be gratified, and we hope some greater good may be the result.'

Walter and Lyford readily consented, and when the interval of public worship had elapsed, the party went to the North Church, where the services commenced at two o'clock. An immense congregation had assembled, for it was understood Mr. Mather would defend the popular theories, and on such an occasion no one could be listened to with more interest and attention. After the preliminary exercises by Dr. Mather, which were exceedingly interesting, and a psalm of nearly the same character as those sung at the South Church in the morning, the text was announced by Cotton Mather from Isaiah xxviii., 15: 'For your covenant with death shall be disannulled, and your agreement with hell shall not stand. When the overflowing scourge shall pass by, ye shall be trodden down by it.'

The great object of this discourse was to support the position that Satan has confederates among men, and that some of these individuals are parties to a covenant or agreement, in virtue of which they are regularly enlisted in his service, and empowered to act in his behalf.

The nature and provisions of this contract, he alleged, were in general uniform, though in some cases slight variations were made, and now and then special powers were conferred. The confessions of witches, and the concurring testimony of the Bible, furnished an amount of proof on this subject, which, however remarkable and opposed to the usual course of events, could not be rejected without incurring the displeasure of God, and subjecting the land to still greater encroachments from the powers of darkness. The providence of God had unfolded a variety of facts from which we were enabled to state the general terms and conditions on which the confederacy was founded, and he felt it due to the occasion and to his people to make known its principal features, in the belief that it might induce his hearers to watch the first approaches of Satan, and shun every possible temptation.

To the mind, in its common apprehensions, he said the influence of Satan was only perceived in the general forms of temptation and suggestion; but in proportion as it yielded its consent to sin, in these days of Satan's peculiar power, its perceptions of the invisible world became enlarged and distinct, and the advantages and pleasure of sin were greatly magnified, while its dreadful consequences were thrown entirely in the back ground, and the mind was wholly occupied in grasping at the luminous and beautiful forms which were made to pass over the imagination. In this state of feeling the suggestions of Satan became more rapid and distinct, until they were imbodied in a regular system. At this stage of the transaction, Satan appears in a visible form, adapted to the temper and feelings of his victim, doing no violence to his natural taste, but assuming an air of dignity and authority, blended with seeming kindness, and proffers his terms of treaty on a scroll, in the form of interrogatory, in substance as follows:

First. Have you a supreme contempt for the laws and authority of God?

Secondly. Are you disposed to resist his will, and gratify your own?

Thirdly. Do you reject the Scriptures so called, as containing unjust and unreasonable requirements?

Fourthly. Do you contemn and despise the sacraments and institutions of God?

Finally. Do you surrender yourself, soul and body, to my service, to be employed in whatever way I may judge conducive to the progress of my kingdom among men?

These questions, and others like them, are accompanied by a statement of immunities and privileges which Satan promises to confer in case the party gives his assent, and pledges himself to fidelity in all parts of the compact to the best of his ability. The advantages to be conferred on the part of Satan are as follows:

First. He promises to preserve his subject from all personal danger, for having entered into this contract.

Secondly. To allow him free indulgence in whatever sins may be most agreeable to his taste and disposition.

Thirdly. To invest him with new faculties, by which he may enter the spiritual world, and hold communion with kindred spirits, who inhabit the regions of the air.

Fourthly. To give him power over the bodies and minds of others, that he may torment and perplex them, and then free them from disquietude and pain, on condition that they will come over to his service.

Finally. To give him honors and rewards in his kingdom, proportioned to the value of his services and the degree of his fidelity.

The terms being agreed upon, the solemn assent of both parties is given, and the bond is written in mystical characters, sealed with a black seal, and the miserable man signs it with a pen dipped in his own blood. After this, all fear of God, all dread of wrath, all sensibility of conscience, and every disposition to good cease for ever, and no renewing grace, no sanctifying influence can evermore visit that heart, which is thus abandoned of its Maker, and separated to all evil and misery for ever.

Such, continued the preacher, is the nature, and these are the terms of this dreadful confederacy. For its proof, we have only to refer to the facts and confessions that are daily passing under our observation. That Satan has come down upon us in great wrath, is no longer to be denied; that God, for wise but inscrutable reasons, has permitted this calamity to come upon the land, no one can doubt. These reasons in due time will be unfolded, and meanwhile we may be assured that our sins as a community have done much to provoke God, our rightful governor, to leave us a prey to this 'roaring lion, who goeth about seeking whom he may devour.'

But if any one denies that the confessions and statements which have been so often and solemnly made, are to be relied upon, we will refer them to an unerring record, an infallible proof that Satan possesses such power on earth. The plainest precepts of the Mosaic law recognized such wicked agencies, and provided for them summary and dreadful punishment. The first king of Israel worshipped at the altar of demons, and at the instance of a witch, the holy Samuel stood before him. In the dim shadows of the invisible state, that venerable form, in distinct and solemn features, was presented to his eye, and in the strange and mystical tones of that unimagined state of being, denounced the death and ruin of himself and his house. As we come down to later times, we find in the days of our blessed Saviour, the presence and power of evil spirits, and it was one of his offices of love to deliver men from this cruel bondage; and in all succeeding times, we see traces of the same dreadful agencies, until at length, upon this land, consecrated to God, the visible footsteps of the destroyer are seen, and every means of expulsion which the Scriptures warrant, must be employed to drive him from our midst.

Having thus stated the nature and proof of this confederacy, he proceeded to point out the means by which the tempter might be resisted and overcome. These, he said, were obviously watchfulness, fasting and prayer. When a christian was faithful in these duties, there was little danger of being overcome by temptation, and he detailed at length, the times and seasons and the different points of character at which the assaults of Satan would be most successfully directed, and the various methods by which he might be repelled. He then showed that Satan could not, and never intended to perform his part of the contract; that so long as his subject was useful in his cause, he might defend and protect him; but the moment his affinity with the master spirit was detected and exposed, he seldom, or never interposed to save him from punishment. He then closed his discourse by the most passionate entreaties to his people, to guard against the wiles of the adversary; to watch and pray lest they entered into temptation; to repent of their sins, which had brought down the judgments of God on the land, and to be fruitful in those works of faith and labors of love which would prove the sincerity of their trust in God, and turn away from his heritage these tokens of his anger.

As Strale and his friends returned from church, the sermon was a fruitful theme of conversation. 'I could almost forgive Mr. Mather for his superstition,' said Walter, 'if it would hurt no one but himself.'

'And why pardon it in him,' said Mary, 'when you condemn it so much in others?'

'Because,' returned Walter, 'I admire his genius: it is grand and beautiful even in its illusions; he has the faculty of making rank folly appear like luminous and well-supported truth.'

'And it is the more criminal and dangerous for all this,' returned Mary; 'he reminds me of a beautiful stream, which in the distance is invested with a thousand charms. Its banks are arched with shades and bordered with flowers. Every thing is inviting and lovely; but when you approach, the rustling of the serpent among its bushes, and the poisonous green on its margin, show you that Death has planted his engines among that foliage, and hurls his arrows with destructive aim upon the unsuspecting traveller.'

'It is safe enough for me, Mary, to admire the beauty of that river, provided I see its dangers and avoid them; but I am fully aware of the justice of your views, and in the present state of public feeling, such a sermon may do inexpressible harm. I cannot doubt Mr. Mather's sincerity, but he ought to know better; he has the means of knowing better and is deeply responsible for the mischievous effects of such preaching. He has a wonderful faculty of making the worse appear the better reason, and clothing his own hallucinations in the garb of truth; but he will never be a safe man, and I dread his influence in our political circles.'