CHAPTER IV. The very opener and intelligencer, Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age and envy, WE return from this digression, which, though long, was essential to the due understanding of the narrative. It has already been remarked, that in the prosecutions for witchcraft in Menunkatuck, which were all subsequent to the events we have related, Deacon Goodspeed was particularly active. And as the cases of sorcery multiplied, he was assiduous in his attentions to the afflicted, almost to officiousness. Often and long did he commune with the truly pious and eloquent Mr. Whitman, respecting the fearful strides Azazel was making among his flock. On one occasion, when the deacon and his minister were taking sweet communion together upon this subject, a pole danced down the chimney, and finally hung as if suspended by an invisible cord, swinging to and fro like a pendulum. Both the minister and the deacon seized hold of it, and it required their combined strength to bring it down and confine it. The good minister thereupon essayed to exorcise the evil spirit by prayer; but while engaged in this exercise, an invisible hand struck him on the head with a besom. He next attempted to write a letter to the Rev. Mr. Davenport, at Quinnipiack, giving some account of the trials to which both himself and people were subjected, but his ink-horn was snatched from him by an invisible hand, and he afterward saw it fall down the chimney into the ashes. On another occasion, when Mr. W. was engaged in writing a sermon against witchcraft, his velvet cap jumped off from his head, and a large dish leaped simultaneously into a tub of water standing near by, splashing the liquid all over his paper, and rendering his manuscript illegible. Nor did the strange sights and frightful noises at the old store-house disappear or cease. The demons would sometimes howl pitifully in the night, and then laugh again immoderately, causing blue flames and sudden flashes of light to issue from the crevices in the walls. Sometimes glimpses of the demons were seen walking at noonday; sometimes counterfeiting dead men's ghosts at night, stalking through the grave-yard of Menunkatuck, like Caligula flitting about Lavinia's garden, and sauntering through the house where he died, long after his body was comfortably entombed. But it was not to be supposed, that such a devoted and faithful watchman as Deacon Goodspeed had proved himself to be on the walls of Jerusalem, -a man, to be sure, but one who was little less than saint, and who had been instant in season and out of season in his efforts to resist the machinations of the demons, assiduously administering consolations to the afflicted, should himself escape, when the evil spirits were so numerous and so malignant. At first, his house was assailed by showers of stones, and the rattling of chains, the opening and shutting of doors, &c. Chests and chairs were set to dancing about the house, and the bright pewter platters and basins thrown down in the beaufet. Some of the stones falling upon the good deacon's person, were very hot. These disturbances continued a long time, during which there were often dismal voices, groans, and whisperings, on all sides of the house. During one night the deacon was certain that the demons had placed an earthquake on his heart, so that he could neither move nor breathe. On another occasion, when the good man had been to the Quannipaug settlement, to consult, as he averred, with his brother Disborough, upon the spiritual interests of the town, being on his return, he heard the tramping and snorting of a steed, as if running close upon him; but on looking back, he could see nothing in the likeness of a horse or any other animal. He heard the clinking of the stirrups, however, and afterward saw them dangling close behind him in the air. The noise continued-the sound of the horse pressing upon him; the stirrup-irons jingling along in sight; and, pushing him forward at breathless speed, through the whole distance of the wood, VOL. I.-C continued until his arrival at his own house-when the stirrup-irons went on, the horse still snorting away in the direction of Clap-board hill. On another occasion still, during a bright moonlight night, the deacon being on his return from a visit to Totoquet, a remarkable incident befell him. As he came to the Menunkatuck river, which he must necessarily cross, the light skiff he had left at the shore was lying high and dry on the sand, although he saw it distinctly afloat when within a few rods of it. Nor could he remove it from the spot by main strength, although at other times he could carry it on his shoulder. Retracing his steps, he observed, on looking back, that the water came up and floated the skiff, but receded again instantly as he re-approached the beach. After several attempts to no purpose, the same result attending every effort, he was reluctantly compelled to take another route leading several miles round through a tangled forest. On yet another occasion, when attempting to cross over to Falconer's Island in the Sound, a strangely odd fish sailed before him, having a head out of water like a blackamoor's, and a tail like that of a catamount. By-and-by the head looked round upon him with a fiendish grin, at which his anchor leaped overboard, and a squall coming on, he was tossed upon the billows all night to the imminent peril of his life, being finally, on the following morning, cast back upon the shore whence he had embarked. The deacon's interesting sister likewise, the amiable Miss Mehitable Goodspeed, was subjected to a great variety of afflictive dispensations, both in her person and effects. One night, when she was descending into the cellar to draw a little cider-brandy for stomach-sickness, the trap-door was shut upon her with such violence as to extinguish the light, and a heavy oaken table was placed upon the door, without hands, to keep it down. While thus in the dark, she distinctly saw Mrs. Elizabeth Clawson, commonly called Goody Clawson, grinning at her with large saucer eyes; and she thought she saw another face ;-but she would'nt, for all the world, injure the young wench, as long as her conscience would allow her to remain silent;-only this much she would say, "that she had for a long time believed that somebody at Quannipaug, who carried her head mighty topping, was no better than other folks." Goodwife Clawson, it must here be remarkedfor the persons of our tragedy are increasing-was a poor decrepit old woman, bending under accumulated troubles and the weight of many years. She had deeply sunken eyes, of piercing blackness, with a hooked nose, and features very much withered and wrinkled,-lived secluded, and nobody knew how. Even the Indians would never molest her. She had long been suspected of familiarity with Satan, or somebody worse; and it was quite natural, for those who knew, protested that “she looked just like a witch." Nobody went near her save Mercy Disborough, who used often to steal |