{"collection":"Witchcraft & Wicca History","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/archive_org_witchofnewenglan1824mcal/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/archive_org_witchofnewenglan1824mcal","id":"archive_org_witchofnewenglan1824mcal","license":null,"rights_basis":"archive_org_open:pre_1929_us_pd_heuristic:year=1824","source":"archive_org","source_url":"https://archive.org/details/witchofnewenglan1824mcal","summary":"","tags":["Witchcraft -- New England -- Fiction"],"text":"M- \n\n\n7o C \n\n\n\u25a0 . \n\n\nJo -C \n\n\nWWf Y/ , \n\n\ny. ^rf^lflrV Zrkk V* 1 \u00abd \n\n\nESSEX INSTITUTE. \n\n\nPRESENTED BY \n\n\nThe Library Committee shall divide the books and other \narticles belonging to the Library into three classes, namely, \n\n(a) those which are not to be removed from the building; \n\n(b) those which may be taken only by written permission \nof three members ol the committee; (c) those which may \ncirculate under the following rules. \n\nMembers shall be entitled to take from the Library two \nfolio or quarto volumes, or four volumes of lesser fold, upon \nhaving them recorded, and promising to make good any \ndamage they sustain, while in their possession, and to re\u00ac \nplace the same if lost, or pay a sum fixed by the Library \nCommittee. \n\nNo person shall lend any book belonging to the Institute, \nexcepting to a member, under a penalty of one dollar for \neach offence. \n\nThe Library Committee may allow members to take more \nthan the allotted number of books upon a written applica- \ntlon. \n\nNo person shall detain any book longer than four weeks \nfrom the Library, if notified that the same is wanted by an- \nother member, under a penalty of five cents per day, and \nno volume shall be detained longer than three months at \none time under the same penalty. \n\nThe Librarian shall have power by order of the Library \nCommittee to call In any volume after it has been retained \nby a member for ten days. \n\nOn or before April fifteenth, all books shall be returned \nto the Library, and a penalty of five cents per day shall be \nImnosed for each volume detained. \n\nNo book shall be allowed to circulate until one month after \nits receipt. \n\nReceived T\\jO\\y# ^ \\ ^ ^ \n\nE SI \n\n\n[ \n\n\n41 \n\n\n\u25a0 \n\n\n1 , \n\n\n. . \n\n\u00a7 \u2022- J^L \n\n\n; *T \n\n\nf \n\n\nm \n\n1 \n\nI \n\n\nj \n\n\n_ _ m \n\n\nV ? . \u25a0 ' '\u25a0 \u2022 \n\n\n\u25a0 \n\n. 3 - * \n\n\n- \n\n\n|<^ \u2022 \n\n\nw \n\n\nl I \n\n\nn\u00bb \u00bb\u2022 i- . .-u \n\n\u25a0 -\u2019f . \n\n. \n\n; * \n\n\n* ' \n\n\n. \n\ntd *lr \n\n\u00bb \n\n\n\u2022v \n\n\nJ*.~ \n\n\nat \n\nf \n\n: \n\n\u2022. \n\n\n... \n\n\n\u2022* \n\n- \n\n- \n\n* \n\n\n' \n\n\n\u2022 \u2022\" \" * \u2022 V- . \n\ni \n\n' \n\n\nft \n\n\n= \n\n\nIKJ \n\ni . \n\ni \n\n\nTHE \n\n\nWITCH OF NEW ENGLAND, \n\n\nA ROMANCE. \n\n\nT \n\n\n% \n\n\n/ \n\n\n> \u2022 \n\n\n1* 4 \n\n\n* \n\n\n, \u2022 t \n\n. \n\n\n* \n\n\n- \n\n\nz \u2022 \n\n!*> \u2022 \u2022 ' . \n\n; \n\n\nI 8 \u00ab,* \n\n\n,* *9 i \n\n' \n\n+ 3* \n\n\ng \n\n\n' \u00bbri; \n\n\n. \n\n*- . . \u2022*. * \u2022 \n\n. \n\n\n\u00abv \n\n\u2022 -* \n\n\n- \n\n\n. \n\n- * T \u2019 \u25a0 ' i\\ \n\n\nfcS , 1 i a \n\n\nW P \n\n\n-1 \n\n\nV \n\n\n: *\u25a0 \n\n\n*> \n\n>7 \n\n\nI * \n\n\nwaro \n\n\n. \n\nTHE \n\n\nA ROMANCE. \n\n\n. . \u201c Call you theis witches? \n\n\u201c They be tumblers methinks.\u201d \n\nMiddleton. \n\n\nPHILADELPHIA : \n\nH. C, CAREY & I. LEA.\u2014 CHESTNUT STREET. \n\n1824. \n\n\nO \n\n\n\u25a0 . a, , , ' \u00ab \n\n/ 4 \\ 4 - \u2022 '-v V ! \n\n\u2022 \n\n)( \u2022 h : \n\n\u2022 m- \n\n\"Hm frtecu \n\n< ' 1 f * ; \n\nrr \n\n& \n\n4 \n\nS( re \n\nisiy \n\n^ FT* \n\n\nEastern District of Pennsylvania, To wit : \n\n\n\u2022\u00bb \n\n\u2666\u00bb \n\n* \n\n* \n\n\u2022# \n\n\n \n\nlowed, and he appeared to yield a reluctant and surly \ndeference to the superiority assumed by the more \npowerful mind of Goody Brown. 1 hey pursued their \nwalk for some distance, the Witch amusing the chil\u00ac \ndren by her tales, and plucking wild fruit for them as \nthey passed along, till they reached the side of a steep \nand lofty precipice. Here she baited. Bidding the \nchildren sit down and take some rest, she called to \nMike who had been lingering some distance in their \nrear. He obeyed the summons, and as he came up \ninquired what she intended to .do with the children, \nsaying, at the same time, he \u201c didn\u2019t much like making \nthe youngsters pay for their parent\u2019s faults.\u2019* \u201c Ye \nass,\u201d exclaimed the beldame, \u201c does not the minister \nhimself tell us from the pulpit, the sins of the father \nshall be visited on the children ?\u201d \n\nShe now directed Mike to assist her in collecting \nsome logs that lay about the spot, and began to build \na small enclosure on the edge of a precipice. \n\nThe logs above were placed in such a manner as to \njut over those below, making an escape from the pen, \nby climbing, impossible. When the work was finished \nshe seized the children, and regardless of their shrieks \nand prayers thrust them into the enclosure, and with \na bitter curse left them to their fate. As she turned \nupon her heel and began to retrace her steps home\u00ac \nwards, she observed with a grin to her companion, \nwho appeared uneasy and disconcerted at the affair, \n\u201c They\u2019ll have slender diet in their new dwelling. \nThe young imps shall owe all their meat to the ravens\u2019 \nbounty and they will pay the debt themselves, one \nday, to the mountain crows. I\u2019ll visit the Goodwife \nLackbrain and condole with her, when she hears of \nher children\u2019s loss. I\u2019ll pamper my hatred with the \nmother\u2019s groans, and rouse her grief if it slumbers \nbut for an instant. I\u2019ll change her blood-coloured \ngown to a mourning jacket and a night-coloured pet\u00ac \nticoat. I\u2019ll teach the proud trollop to sneer at my \n\n\n96 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\ntattered habit and my wasted form. A foul curse \ncling to her and her progeny.\u201d \n\nThe cries of the poor children now became feebler, \nand sounded in the distance like the faint sobbing of \nexhausted nature. The hag and her follower direct\u00ac \ned their route towards the hovel, and the scene of their \nbrutal cruelty was soon left behind them. To this \nhour the spot is pointed out to the stranger ; while to \nthe surrounding neighbourhood it is well known un\u00ac \nder the appellation of The Devil\u2019s Invention. \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nS7 \n\n\nCHAPTER IX. \n\nCome, \u2014 come, pluck up thy drowsy courage, man ! \n\nNe\u2019er quake because the owlet hoots, and wolves \nHowl at the lovely moon. Such sounds belong \nTo Night, who kindly lends her mask of clouds \nTo all that dare to put it on and play \nA daring game. Take thou the ladder then, \n\nAnd \u2019neath yon window plant it. Quickly mount. \n\nAnd if he sleep, from forth his bed of straw, \n\nWith gentle murmur rouse him. \n\nAnonymous. \n\nWhen the Witch reached her dwelling she entered, \nand throwing herself on the seat, sat moving her body \nbackwards and forwards, in silent and restless agita\u00ac \ntion for some moments. The eternal fever that seemed \nto prey upon her mind, at all times, rendered her \nbody unquiet and agitated. She seldom maintained \none position above a moment : her limbs and features \nwere constantly tortured with nervous and involun\u00ac \ntary twitchings ; and like a wild and untameable beast \nincessantly rubbing against the bars of his cage, she \nappeared cursed with the fearful and unresting doom \nof the first of woman-born. Even her slumber was \nagitated, and low and indistinct moanings generally \naccompanied her deepest sleep. Her nails were \ngnawed and lacerated below the quick, by the inces\u00ac \nsant habit of biting them ; and her saffron complexion \nand jaundiced eye told of her bilious and irritable \ntemperament. When roused by passion or extraor\u00ac \ndinary excitement, her blood seemed liquid fire, and \ncoursed through her swoln and bursting veins like \nburning lava. A sudden insanity appeared to strike \nand overwhelm her. The thought or feeling of the \nmoment bore down all reflection, fear, or remorse ; \nabsorbed every faculty of her enthusiastic mind ; and \nwas often pursued with a fierce and resolute obstinacy \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\nthat conquered obstacles apparently insurmountable* \nOver common minds she invariably obtained an in\u00ac \nfluence and stern mastery that she seldom relin\u00ac \nquished, and often used with heartless and unrelent\u00ac \ning disdain. Miserable aftd discontented with herself, \nshe hated, with rancourous violence, all the world. \nHer only pleasure consisted in thwarting, and her en\u00ac \njoyment increased in proportion to the pain she in\u00ac \nflicted. \n\nShe had continued her rocking for several minutes, \nin silent and deep thought, when suddenly starting \nupon her feet, she approached the beaver-hunter, who \nhad been employed in examining the lock of his rifle. \nWith rapid and impatient manner she demanded if \nhe knew the Indian Sachem Samoset; but as if too \nfeverish and restless to await his answer, she went on \nto say, \n\n44 Him, the chief, they have caged in the jail yon\u00ac \nder, for trying to carry off\" the vixen daughter of old \nBradley, who is going to wed the son of that outland\u00ac \nish Madam Chesterly. I wish the foul fiend had \nthem all, children, parents, and connexions. I hate \nthe savage, for he\u2019s a surly, morose beast, and \u2019twould \ndo my heart good to see the bear hang. But if he \ncan escape he will worry these folks to the bone ; and \nI am determined to aid him, and effect his deliverance \nif possible. \n\n44 Yes, yes,\u201d said Mike, 44 1 know Indian Sam, well \nenough. We\u2019ve trapped many a beaver together. \nHe\u2019s not much of a soft-spoken man, that\u2019s true, but \nhe\u2019s a good shot and can hit a deer with any hunter \nin the country. It\u2019s a pity he should be cooped up, \nand not allowed to run about and mind his traps. It \nmust be mighty tiresome to sit still all day in one \nroom, and never mount the hill nor hear the game \npass by.\u201d \n\n44 Will you assist in effecting his escape from pri\u00ac \nson, then said Annie. \n\n44 As sure as a gun,\u201d answered the other. 44 That \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n99 \n\n\nis, if there\u2019s no danger of getting into his place my\u00ac \nself. I never could fetch breath in such a house, you \nsee : the woods and the open sky somehow are be\u00ac \ncome necessary-like to my comfort now', and I should \nnever bide a little room and an iron window. If I \ndidn\u2019t smell the fresh morning air, every day, I \ndon\u2019t think I should feel comfortable, Annie. Use is \nsecond nature, they say, and I can\u2019t give up the moun\u00ac \ntain and the woods. Dry leaves are a better couch \nthan feather beds ; and I\u2019m used to the hunter\u2019s fare, \nand like it too well to quit. And the cold spring that \nruns from the rock tastes sweeter, after all, than the \nd \u2014 d hot stuff we have been pouring down our throats \nto-day. I feel as if a coal of fire stuck in my throat. \nCome what will, to-morrow I\u2019m off for the woods. \nI\u2019m never comfortable long out of the forest. It\u2019s \nmy home, you see, Goody Brown ; and I can\u2019t leave \n\nit, if I wished it ever so hearty.\u201d \n\n\u201c Pluck that chicken heart from out your vagabond \nbosom, and be a man,\u201d said Annie. u Do ye think \naught is to be gained where nothing is ventured ? I \nam a woman and have suckled many a babe, though \nthe poor brats are now all dead, and yet in my con\u00ac \nscience I think I bear a firmer spirit than most of \nthose called men. Do you think to win the cup and \nnot run the race ? Put a little lead and charcoal into \nyour gun there, and if occasion offer, you may bring \ndown nobler game than you are wont to do.\u201d \n\n\u201c I know the hunter must wet his feet before he \ncatches a beaver,\u201d answered Mike, u and I don\u2019t re\u00ac \nfuse to run some risk to save the Indian from the \nhalter. But you can make a little conjuration, can\u2019t \nyou, and so makr ail sure ? I should not mind their \ntaking a shot at me in the dark ; but I tell you again \nI could not bear being caged up in the stone jug, as \nthey call the jail; and there\u2019s mighty little spirit in it \nI guess. As for the game you talk about, Goody \nBrown, I\u2019d rather bring down a buck with a pair of \n\n\n100 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nbranching horns and a fat haunch, than any two-legged \nbeast in the country.\u201d \n\n44 I will ensure your safety,\u201d said the other, 44 if \nyou do but go into the scheme heart and hand. You \nhave often baited the wolf and wild bear, and you \nsurely cannot fear a poor impotent jailer. Besides, if \nyou save Samoset he will aid you in the hunt, and \nshow you where the deer herd and the beavers dwell: \nhe\u2019s a great hunter among his nation, and can track \nthe game, they tell me, better than a bred hound.\u201d \n\n44 I shall owe him little thanks for all his learning \nin that trade,\u201d answered Mike with a contemptuous \nsneer, \u2014 \u2022\u201c There is not an Indian in his tribe can teach \nme more than I know in my own craft. It comes \nnatural to me, you see ; and besides I have followed \nthe profession since I was knee-high to a muskitoe.\u201d \n\nu I know you are cunning in the chase, and can \noutwit any redman in the nation,\u201d said the Witch, \n\u201c and moreover I have heard the Sachem say you \nwere the mightiest hunter in the land.\u201d \n\n\u201cDid you indeed, though?\u201d asked Mike, evi\u00ac \ndently tickled by the sly flattery of the hag, \u2014 44 Did \nSam really say I could beat them all ? By Jingo it\u2019s \na pity so it is, that such like as he should lie between \nfour stone walls and never be able to turn heels upon \nthem.\u201d \n\n44 It\u2019s a burning shame,\u201d said Annie, \u201cand it would \nbe the like if you refused to aid in helping him to turn \nback upon the filthy dungeon they have thrown him \ninto : the more so, as he always calls you Mike of the \nnever-failing aim, and says your ball is enchanted, or \nat least is moulded of silver. Mayhap I can make \nyour aim surer and your bullet quicker than they are \neven now, \u2014 if you will be guided by my direction \nand serve him who is your true friend, and who praises \nyou into the bargain.\u201d \n\n44 I\u2019ll do what I can to get him out of the snare,\u201d \nsaid the other, 44 though it\u2019s no easy matter to get rid \n\n\nTHE WITCH OP NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n101 \n\n\nof the trap, when once it is shut, as you must know \nwell enough, Goody. Though such stone walls have \nopen ears, their mouths are mostly closed too tightly \nfor comfort.\u201d \n\n\u201c There\u2019s no occasion, Michael Shuckwell,\u201d said, \nthe beldame, with much bitterness, \u201c to twit me with \nmy misfortunes. Though I zvas plunged in the de\u00ac \nvil\u2019s den for six weeks and fed on beggars\u2019 fare, only \nfor scratching a vixen\u2019s cheeks,* yet the sight of her \nblood consoled me for all my suffering. I\u2019d undergo \nthe like again for the same pay. Goodwife Dawson \nwill not brand me witch again, till she forgets hard \ncuffs and loves the sight of her own blood. I fed on \nthe memory of the crimson stream for months after it \nceased to flow. There\u2019s no morsel of a king\u2019s feast \nhalf so rich and dainty as a good mouthful of revenge. \nLearn that and profit by it, hunter.\u201d \n\n\u201c It is food that few but the rich can afford to fatten \non,\u201d said Mike, \u201c I don\u2019t know as I ever tasted it. I \nseldom have to do with other folk ; and all I ask is to \nfollow my own way undisturbed, and let others travel \ntheir path in like quiet.\u201d \n\n\u201c Well, well,\u201d exclaimed his companion, \u201c we will \nwait the hour when evil spirits walk, and pinch the \ntravellers black and blue with their long fingers. And \nthen we will adventure on our plan to free the Sachem, \nand grateful he will be to you, if we succeed in giving \nhim fresh air and mountain fragrance once again.\u201d \n\nu Doubtless, doubtless,\u201d said Mike, \u201c he must wish \nto tread the hills again. There\u2019s nothing like snuff\u00ac \ning the young morning air upon the highlands, after \nchoking in a close room all night.\u201d \n\nBidding the Witch rouse him when the hour for \ntheir adventure should have arrived, Mike threw \nhimself upon the earthen floor, in a corner of the hut, \nand his loud breathing soon announced his deep slum\u00ac \nber. Annie, incapable of repose, either sat in restless \nagitation, or paced the apartment with rapid and ner- \nI vous strides ; having recourse to the liquor until she \n\nK \n\n\n102 THE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\nftad drained the bottle of its last dregs. The anxious \nspace between the birth of her plot to save the savage, \nand the arrival of the hour for its success or failure, \n\u2022was a remnant of time that filled her with feverish \nimpatience. Her state of mind seemed in rebellion \nand charged to overflowing with fretfulness, eager\u00ac \nness, and some degree of dread, as to the eventual \nsuccess of her scheme. \n\nu I\u2019m settled and will do it,\u201d said she, \u201c even if \nmurder rise and mix his bloody fingers In the business. \nTut! it is but strangling the old trembling jailer, if \nhe rouse or make resistance. Every crevice of the \nbuilding and I are well acquainted, and no thanks to \nthe laws, the Indian is the only prisoner in the jail. \nYon old snoring dotard, however, is necessary to \nwatch or assist as may fall out. Let him sleep off the \nfog of his debauch, and his dull brain may be the \nbrighter for my service. Ha! he dreams and mutters \nin his sleep. He sees pale phantoms of his fear, \nvisions and sights of things which are not. \u2019Tis \nstrange I have those phantasies myself at times. Can \nhe, a carcase only fit to be hewn and thrown to hounds, \nhave dreams like mine ? If he dream of banquets, \nnow, it betokens misfortune and failure to our \nscheme.\u201d m \n\nMike\u2019s slumbers were broken and far from refresh\u00ac \ning. He tossed from side to side of his uneasy couch ; \nbut the spirit he had drunk acted as a narcotic, and he \nstill remained subject to the powerful spell that hung \nupon his brain. The Witch in the agony of her im\u00ac \npatience cursed the tardy steps of the night, and awai\u00ac \nted with wakeful vehemence the slow approach of the \nnight\u2019s dead hour. The moon had now risen, and \nwhen unobscured by clouds, she poured streams of \nrich but palid light through the open window and \ncrevices of the walls, into the dark and gloomy apart\u00ac \nment. The mild and short-lived light cast a sickly \nhue upon the features of the hag, making them appear \nstill more cadaverous than usual ; as a fleeting glimpse \n\n\nthe Witch op new England. \n\n\n103* \n\ndwelt for a moment upon the face of the sleeping hun\u00ac \nter, his Weather-beaten cheeks showed like marble, \nand his long white beard streamed like a dying me\u00ac \nteor. The only sounds that broke upon the silence of \nthe night, were the unchanging murmur of the wa\u00ac \nterfall as it rolled from rock to rock ; the faint and \ninconstant sighing of the wind as it pursued its vary\u00ac \ning rambles through the neighbouring wood ; and the \nshrill, ill-boding hoot of the owl, or the faint and dy\u00ac \ning howl of the hungry wolf as he bayed the moon \nin the thickets of the mountain. Annie continued to \npace the hovel to and fro ; and ever and anon looked \nout at the door to watch the progress of the night, or \nseek in the damp falling dews some relief from the \nhot and oppressive atmosphere of the hut. \n\nDread sceptred Silence held her sway o\u2019er all ; \n\nThe aged flower in its fragrant fall, \n\nLike velvet fell ; while for its spicy death \nNo moan was uttered by the subdued breath \nOf winds that slumbering now forgot to sigh. \n\nHushed into noiseless rest. \n\nSolemnity has her home in the deep, breathless si\u00ac \nlence of the ast and virgin forest. She walks abroad \nat the hour of darkness, and he who has met her amid \nsuch scenes will not readily forget her chilling majesty* \nIt is then that darkness is palpable and felt. The eye \nand mind tremble as fancy pictures the shape of forms \nunseen, and the burier of the dead reigns triumphant. \n\nThe Witch as she gazed upon the pale lamp of \nNight, now high in the heavens, muttered, \n\nu The hour approaches, and I must rouse this lump \nof dirt. He must steal a ladder from Lackbrain\u2019s \nyard, and that planted against the back wall and at \nthe window of the prison, I will answer for the rest. \nThey little think how my time past that I spent in \ntheir loathsome cage. They\u2019ll find I was not idle,-*\u2014 \nlet it turn out as it may, for good or evil. If the iron \nbars won\u2019t move now, it will not be from the want of \na rusty nail and ten fingers, while I counted the te* \n\n\n104 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OP NEW ENGLAND, \n\n\ndious hours of confinement. If I had had but a \nfriend to assist me in the descent, I would have lain \nbut little time in their toils. If Samoset escape, ven\u00ac \ngeance is dear to the Indian, and he will excite his \ntribe to slaughter, burning and ravage. The warriors \nwill pour down on the settlement like the mountain \ntorrent, and blood enough will be shed to content even \nme. It is a draught I am fond of too, when it flows \nfrom those I hate. Come what may, mischief is my \nfood, and my trade must be followed.\u201d \n\nShe now approached the old man and turning him \nwith her foot, she bade him rise, .for the hour was \ncome, and they must prepare to free the savage. \n\nHe awoke, growled at being disturbed, but got \nupon his feet at her bidding, and rubbing his half- \nopened eyes announced his readiness to follow her. \nShe left the hut, and accompanied by the hunter, took \nthe path towards the village. He followed her rapid \nsteps, \u2014 stumbling along the rocky way and cursing \nevery stone and obstacle that impeded his progress. \nIn silence they pursued their route until arrived at the \nvillage, when stealing with quiet and careful steps \nthey proceeded towards the dwelling of Lackbrain, \nsituated not far from the prison. When arrived at \nthe tavern, they entered the stable-yard, in a corner of \nwhich lay the ladder, used in mounting to the hay-loft. \nIn a whisper directing Mike to throw it on his shoul\u00ac \nder, Annie, with a careful glance at the Inn where all \nappeared wrapped in forgetfulness, turned her steps to\u00ac \nwards the jail. This was a large and heavy stone \nbuilding, standing at the end of the main street ; two \nstories in height; with high narrow windows guarded \nby iron bars ; while the lower apartments served as a \ndwelling for the keeper and his family. In those \ndays few crimes were committed ; the prison had few \ntenants, and the office of jailer was happily very \noften a sinecure. Experience and vice had not yet \ntaught caution to be always alert ; and bolts shot and \nbars drawn to escape from justice was seldom \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n105 \n\n\ndreamed of and often thought impossible. No light \nappeared burning in the building and every thing \naround was silent. The night was now dark, for \nthick and heavy clouds from the west bad obscured \nthe moon, and the two conspirators moved slowly and \ncarefully till they reached the side of the prison, \nwhere lay the room in which criminals were usually \nconfined. When they arrived, Goodwife Brown, by \nsigns, directed her associate to plant the ladder against \na window which she pointed out, and she perceived, \nwhile a smile of triumph lit her dark face, that it was \nof the required length. She now, in a whisper, or\u00ac \ndered Mike to mount, \u2014 listen and ascertain if the In\u00ac \ndian slept or was still wakeful. At this moment the \nmoon appeared, throwing aside her black mask ; and \nthough the old man shook his head, with some unea\u00ac \nsiness as he looked at the hag and pointed to the hea\u00ac \nvens, yet, partly hid by the shadows of some thick \nand branching elms, he proceeded to obey her com\u00ac \nmands. Whether the unexpected apparition of the \nlight had excited a tremor in his limbs, or in ascend\u00ac \ning the ladder he missed a step, is even now uncer\u00ac \ntain, but he slipped, endeavoured to recover his lost \nfooting, failed, and in company with the ladder, \ncame to the ground, sprawling at full length and ma\u00ac \nking the pavement ring with his fall. He had scarcely \ncontrived to rise and conceal himself, directed by a \nmotion of his companion, behind one of the trees \nwhose shadow and trunk hid his figure, when a win\u00ac \ndow in the opposite house was opened and a man\u2019s \nvoice called and demanded the cause of the noise. \nNo answer being returned the awakened sleeper, after \nlooking around, closed the sash, retired, and relieved \nthe actors of the drama in the street from their well- \nfounded terrors. \n\nAfter a moment\u2019s pause Mike again, and with no little \ndread and much caution, proceeded to plant the ladder \nagainst the wall. He had just succeeded in placing it \nproperly and was about, nothing willing, to mount, when \n\nk 2 \n\n\n106 THE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\na noise was heard near the back of the jail, and issu\u00ac \ning from a lair under the large stone steps, in which \nhe had been sleeping, a strong and fierce watch-dog \nrushed with newly awakejied fury. Mike, invol\u00ac \nuntarily, ascended some steps of the ladder and the \nfurious animal seeing him out of his power, sprang \nwith increased ferocity towards the Witch. She ap\u00ac \npeared alarmed, but uttered no cry ; and knowing \nthat retreat would be useless stood to encounter the \nattack of the enraged animal. He rushed with in\u00ac \nstinctive sagacity at her throat, and Mike, as he gazed \nin great trepidation from his secure position, could \nnot help exclaiming to himself, as he watched the as\u00ac \nsault, that all was now over with his old acquaintance* \nShe appeared wrought up to desperation ; her eyes \nwere extended to their full size, and motionless \nwatched the approach of the dog ; her feet firmly \nplanted on the ground, and every sinew in her large \nframe braced and prepared for the fearful strug\u00ac \ngle. As the animal flew at her neck, she drew \nback a step, and missing his intended object, the \nbeast fastened upon her breast. As he hung with \nthorough-hred obstinacy to his hold, Annie clinched \nhis throat with both her hands, then looking towards \nthe beaver-hunter she motioned him to advance. \n\n\u201c Where is your knife ?\u201d said she, in a whisper. \n\u201c Dotard, have you lost you senses and the small \nbrains you once had ? Draw your hunting knife and \ncut the brute\u2019s throat ; he is tearing my flesh with his \nsharp fangs, though he has missed my life this \ntime.\u201d \n\nThe hunter fumbled in his pouch, but the knife \ncould not be found. \n\nu I have left it in the cabin,\u201d said he, with an \noath. \n\n41 Hell\u2019s torments rack ye,\u201d exclaimed the Witch, \nM you withered, sapless dog-bane, \u2014 thou pale-faced, \nshag-haired coward. Must I be strangled for your \nforgetfulness ?\u201d \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n107 \n\n\nRage and weakness from her exertion to hold the \ndog, who struggled furiously, now evidently were ex\u00ac \nhausting the powers of the Witch, and her grasp \nround the throat of the powerful animal was percep\u00ac \ntibly less vigcurous. She gasped for breath and re\u00ac \ntreated some paces, staggered by the weight and op\u00ac \nposition of the dog, but still preserving her gripe \nupon his throat. At this moment, when she was \nabout to sink before the animal, and Mike, who be\u00ac \ngan to despair, had cast several wistful glances to\u00ac \nwards the wood, and the idea of retreat had appeared \nwith pleasing and almost irresistible attractions, he \nsuddenly exclaimed, as he turned a small pocket in\u00ac \nside out, \n\nu I have it \u2014 I have it, \u2014 keep your hold, Goody, \nfor a minute longer and I\u2019ll do his business.\u201d \n\nHe ran towaids his companion and drawing a clasp- \nknife, which he had found in his pocket, three or four \ntimes across the throat of the dog, the animal groaned \nand covering his combatant with a stream of blood, fell \nlifeless on the pavement. Annie, pale, trembling and \nfaint, sunk upon the stones and remained some mo\u00ac \nments without the power of motion or speech. \n\nShe recovered, however, speedily, am! turning to \nthe hunter said, \n\nu Ascend the ladder at once, there is no time to be \nlost. The Indian is most likely awake, and will be \nready to receive our assistance. Push the centre bar \ninwards and it will yield to your hand and afford \nspace enough for the prisoner to pass.\u201d \n\nWhen arrived at the window, Mike perceived the \nIndian pacing the apartment, wrapped in his blanket, \nwith folded arms and his eyes fixed on the iron grate- \nwork. Putting his finger on his lips he nodded to \nthe prisoner, and obeying the instructions of the \nWitch, the middle iron bar was removed and an ap\u00ac \nerture appeared, large enough to admit the body of a \nman. The countenance of the savage changed from \nthe stern solemnity of fortitude to the blight aspect \n\n\n103 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NE'V ENGLAND. \n\n\nof hope. He placed a bench, the only piece of furni\u00ac \nture of the prison, against the wall, mounted, and in \nan instant breathed the pure air and gazed at the rich \nfirmament once more. \n\nNo moments were now to be wasted and bending \ntheir steps towards the Inn, the ladder was deposited \nin its usual place, and Annie Brown returned to her \nhovel, after receiving the passionate and eloquent \nthanks of the liberated Samoset, who followed by the \nhunter, after the latter had nodded an adieu to the \nWitch, pursued his rapid course towards the moun\u00ac \ntains. After walking about an hour, rays of bright, \nredlight began to shoot from behind the ridge of hills, \nbathing their summits in a flood of crimson and push\u00ac \ning their beautiful and many-coloured streaks far \nabove the horizon. The air was soft and full of \nbalm ; the foliage in its deep and early verdure as it \nmoved to the gentle winds scattered wholesome odour; \nthe flowers were topped with dew, and the green sur\u00ac \nface of the earth showed like velvet sown with dia\u00ac \nmonds as the sun smiled on the refreshing moisture. \nThe birds were offering their matins, and in the val\u00ac \nley herds of cattle, just released from the nightly pen, \nappeared feeding and enjoying their morning meal \nwith enviable zest. \n\nThe savage as he advanced up the hill appeared to \nfeel a delight bordering on intoxication. He snuffed \nthe perfume of the morning breeze eagerly ; stretched \nhis limbs to their full length ; and like a falcon from \nthe mew, his fierce eye burnt with delight as he gazed \non the rising sun, and the long line of noble heights \nthat swelled along the horizon till they melted into \nthe distant mists. Suddenly as if rapt by the energy \nof his feelings, he burst into one of the wild strains of \nhis nation, and pointing to the rising luminary, began \nin a low tone, which increased in loudness as he ad\u00ac \nvanced, tosing a hymn or address, some of the ideas \nof which are contained in the following lines ; \n\n\nTHE WITCH OP NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nm \n\n\nLo ! morning bids his bride the night adieu, \n\nExulting, flushed with recent pleasure\u2019s hue, \n\nDelight\u2019s deep blush upon his burning brows, \n\nGlowing like virgins whispering marriage vows. \n\nHe stands upon the mountain-top and shakes \nHis golden tresses. O\u2019er the woodland brakes \nImpassioned, breathes his aromatic sigh \nAnd wilding airs catch perfumes as they fly. \n\nHis mighty wings, dazzling with purple hues \nAnd azure crimson-tipped, freshened with dews \nFrom highest Heaven, like diamonds sparkling \nOn rainbow colours or those more darkling, \n\nExpands ; and smiling bends his eye on earth ; \n\nThen mounts into the region of his birth \nMajestic, \u2014 godlike, \u2014 his wide path dying \nWith long streaks of million tints and plying \nHis way accustomed, leaving a bright tinge \nOf wizard hues on th\u2019 hills, like a rich fringe. \n\nThat bashful flower, Glory-of-the-morn, \n\nOpens her bosom and adores : the horn \nJocund and flute-like all its soul pours out, \n\nWild, rich notes mingling with the hunter\u2019s shout. \n\nWith bead-strung mocassins and light attire \nAnd form of Grecian mould and glance of fire, \n\nAnd gait of pride, the Indian leaves his home, \n\nRed monarch of our western wilds, where roam \nThe fierce eyed panther and the graceful deer, \n\nHaught and erect, holding his wild career \nSwifter than brilliant visions melt away, \n\nOr woman\u2019s love or gratitude\u2019s decay. \n\nHome of my sires thy course shall be as proud \nAs morning\u2019s march, and if an envious cloud \nHang on thy steps it shall be steeped in dyes \nOf molten gems and like a crown arise, \n\nSettling imperial on thine unseared front, \n\nAnd thou shalt bear it as great Rome was wont. \n\nMike listened to the monotonous chant of the \nChief with some degree of interest ; and as they \nstruck into the thickest part of the wood and began to \nascend the steep and rugged ground, the old man \n\n\n1 10 THE WITCH OF NEW BNGLAND. \n\nseemed to grow young again, as it invigorated by the \nsight of his favourite haunts, and pursued the difficult \nand fatiguing march with the activity of boyhood. \nAfter travelling some distance in company, the nat\u00ac \nural taciturnity of both preventing much conversation, \nthey arrived at the spot where the route of each led in \nan opposite direction. When about to part, the In* \ndian pressed the rough hand of the old hunter with \nmuch emotion ; assured him of his gratitude, and ta\u00ac \nking from his pouch a large lump of tobacco, he tore \na small share off for himself, and putting the remain\u00ac \nder into the hands of Mike, he pronounced farewell \nin the low, gutteral tone of his tribe and quickly dis\u00ac \nappeared in the thicket. Mike smiled grimly ; shook \nhis head in token of adieu ; looked with unaffected \ndelight upon the gift of the savage ; and watching his \nfigure till it was lost in the forest, he threw his rifle \nover his shoulder, began to whistle a favourite tune, \nand proceeded with a light heart and careless step to\u00ac \nwards his beloved haunts, at some considerable dis\u00ac \ntance farther from the settlements. \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND,' \n\n\nill \n\n\nCHAPTER X. \n\n' \u2666 # \n\n- He sometimes wove, \n\nIn blushing, aromatic wreaths, which waste \nFrom very sweetness, flowers that sprinkled \nOn Parnassus\u2019 base their balmy perfumes; \n\nYoung-lipped buds with th\u2019 opening rose involving \nAnd vagrant vine in meshes intricate. \n\nAnonymous. \n\nWe are now under the necessity of conducting our \nreaders to the parsonage, where the pretty Agnes ca\u00ac \nrolled like the lark as the merry hours flew swiftly and \nunheeded* Charles seemed to have exchanged his \nrifle for Cupid\u2019s flower, Love in Idleness ; to have \nforgotten the pleasures of the chase at the feet of his \nmistress ; while his friend Edward, too often the vic\u00ac \ntim of feelings culpably indulged, or deluded by the \nspells of imagination, wandered restless, unsatisfied, \nand at times miserable, wearied with the world around \nhim and discontented with himself. \n\nIt is our object to draw men as they are, or have \nbeen ; \u2014 possessing virtues mingled with faults ; ge\u00ac \nnius shaded by the defects of temper or the dark \nclouds of adversity, or led astray by the glare of a de\u00ac \nceitful and wandering fancy. Edward Bradley was \nnot a common character, \u2014 but he was one which is to \nbe met in the world. He had communed much and \nfrequently with himself. Silent towards others, many \na beautiful figure, novel allusion, and majestic meta\u00ac \nphor had crossed his mind in silence, pleased for the \nmoment, vanished and were forgotten. Many of his \nthoughts were proud and noble. Had they been \ndressed in language they would have been eloquent. \nHe conversed with the forest, and a companion of the \nhills he listened to the loud and super-human elo\u00ac \nquence of the storm, or enjoyed the more liquid me- \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nU2 \n\n\nlody of the flowing stream. He loved a crowd, \u2014 but \nit was only that he might be silent and solitary when \nwrapped in its thickest folds. His book was the hu\u00ac \nman face, \u2014 his science the study of the heart. Con\u00ac \nversation, when interest was not awakened, was fa\u00ac \ntiguing and disgustful, \u2014 taking part in the prattle of \nmixed and numerous society cloying and loathsome. \nSilence in such situations was not an absence of pain ; \nit was an opulent and racy enjoyment that fed without \nsurfeiting. Music, simple and unaffected, was a \nsource of unpolluted and exquisite delight, \u2014 scientific \ncombination and miraculous execution, as they were \nnot comprehended, excited no pretended rapture. \nFeelings of fierce and terrible anguish, at times crossed \nhis mind, and even dwelt there for successive days, \nunconquerable by reason or bodily exertion. It ap\u00ac \npeared a kind of constitutional insanity, and when it \npassed away left its victim relieved, but feeble. In \nsuch moments, whose recollection was almost too hor\u00ac \nrible to be dwelt on, the idea of self destruction would \nsometimes flit across his mind, like an evil and con\u00ac \ndemned fiend, holding up the promise of relief and \nescape. But the image of a Superior Power, and love \nfor a few objects which had twined themselves round \nhis heart, counteracted the temptings of the demon. \nStill death was then regarded as Heaven\u2019s last and \nmost precious donation, and awaited with impatience. \nEvery thing that he did appeared inferior to what he \nmight have done; and from comparison with superior \nproductions, in lieu of producing satisfaction gave \nbirth only to disappointment and mortification. Such \nwas young Bradley, \u2014 but he was brave, generous, \ngifted, full of courtesy, and overflowing with feeling. \nThe contrast between Chcsterly and himself was strong \nand apparent. The former was gay, thoughtless, \nboisterous ; frequently giving offence, but when con\u00ac \nvinced of error tree to mike amends, and with a dis\u00ac \nposition open and affectionate. He loved his friend \nwith fervour, tinctured with respect for his superior \n\n\nTHE WITCH OP NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n113 \n\n\nintellect, and the dignity of manner that sometimes \napproached, without intention, the air of command. \nIndeed it may be said that his attachment bore the \nappearance of enthusiasm, a feeling frequently excited \nin those who owned an intimacy with Edward Brad\u00ac \nley. \n\nChesterly was passionately addicted to hunting; the \ncountry afforded a rich stock of game, and frequently \naccompanied by his friend, who at once enjoyed the \nmanly exercise and romantic scenery, whole days and \nnights were passed in the exciting amusement of the \nchase. The game was often of a noble and dangerous \nspecies. The fierce, untameable panther, the ferocious \nwolf, the sagacious and surly bear, as well as the \ngraceful and beautiful stag, frequently fell before the \nskill and courage of the ardent hunters. Charles ap\u00ac \npeared inspired with more than usual vivacity and \ndaring, while employed in the active and dangerous \namusement ; and displayed a skill and intrepidity in \nits prosecution, that made him well known and re\u00ac \nmarkable among the white and red inhabitants of the \ncountry. \n\nThe weather was now fine, and a party to consist \nof two friends, accompanied by the Indian Uncas, \nwas formed to spend some days in the forest, and en\u00ac \njoy the healthful and favourite sport. A knapsack, \nstrapped upon the shoulders of each hunter, held the \nfew necessaries for their accommodation in the woods ; \nand followed by three or four well-trained dogs, the \ntwo friends, at the early peep of dawn, departed for \nthe cabin of their Indian acquaintance ; whom they \nfound ready and happy to follow them. After walk\u00ac \ning some few miles from the village, before they struck \ninto the interior of the country, the scenery that lay \nbefore them became of a singular and curious charac\u00ac \nter. The surface of the ground appeared broken and \nirregular; while the hills, composed of white sand, \nwere covered with bushes bearing a small blue berry, \nand with dwarf pitch-pine shrubs. Many of the trees \n\nL \n\n\n114 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nhad been cut for fire-wood, and the stumps appeared \nrising above the surface of the sand. But the re\u00ac \nmoval of the pines had exposed the hills to be torn \naway by the violence of the wind, and in some places, \nremains of dwellings appeared, which had either been \ndestroyed or partly removed in order to avoid being \ncovered by the sand. The hills or heaps appeared to \nhave been constantly shifting, and when swept away \nin one place were piled up in another. In some \nsunken ponds and marshy places that were found inter\u00ac \nspersed among them, forty or fifty cows were seen, \nwading and even swimming, plunging their heads \ninto the water till it reached to their horns, and feed\u00ac \ning upon the roots and herbs produced in the water. \n\nAfter walking some distance through a wood of \npines, the trees not exceeding twenty feet in height, \nthe hunters found their path obstructed by a mound \nrising among the trees almost to their tops. This vo\u00ac \nlume of sand gradually rolling into the woods with \nthe winds, had covered numbers of the trees to their \nvery summits. The sportsmen mounted this precipice \nwith difficulty; but, arrived at the summit a curious \nspectacle presented itself to their view. Before them \nlay a desert of white sand, four miles in length, pa- \nrellel with the sea and at least a mile and a half in \nbreadth. The tops of the trees appeared above the \nsurface, but they were all dead. Where they had \nbeen lately covered, the bark and twigs still were visi\u00ac \nble. From some trees they had fallen off, and others \nhad been so long lashed and worn by the winds and \nsand, that nothing of their former appearance re\u00ac \nmained but the hardy knots and heart. Over the far \ngreater part of this melancholy wilderness, however, \nthe trees had long since disappeared, and the hunters, \nafter traversing it for a short distance, turned to the \nleft, and quitting the arid and comfortless scenes, soon \ngained sight of the blue ridge of hills; towards a pass \nin which they now directed their course with fresh \nspeed and eagerness. \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n115 \n\n\nThey soon gained the foot of the heights, and began \nto ascend the rough path or narrow road that led to a \nwell wooded and extensive plain, the haunt of nume\u00ac \nrous herds of deer and other game. Charles was oc\u00ac \ncupied in directing and calling to the dogs ; in di\u00ac \nverging from the route to shoot a pheasant ; or in \nexpatiating upon the prospect of the sport which \nawaited them upon the hills ; or in detailing to the \nsavage, a willing and pleased listener, his former feats \nin the chase. Edward listened with pleasure to the \nwild sallies and gay discourse of his friend ; and par\u00ac \ntaking in the excitement of the moment, joined in the \nanimated conversation. \n\n\u2022 \u201c Have you visited the cave lately ?\u201d said he to \nUncas, when Charles had quitted them for a moment. \n\u201c Is all well there ? It is now some time since I have \nseen the venerable inhabitant.\u201d \n\n\u201cThe gray -haired old man is well,\u201d answered \nthe other. w He seems content in his solitude, and \nholds little converse but with the ancient trees, and \nhas no*visiters but the deer as they pass daily by his \nhabitation to drink at the mountain spring.\u201d \n\n\u201c I will visit him before I return,\u201d replied the other. \n \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n123 \n\n\nballs which had startled him, was now made good, by \nan angry, smothered growl that issued from the up\u00ac \nper end of the cave. The balls of light moved as if \nthe animal had dropt her head between her legs, in \nthe attitude of preparing to spring upon her prey ; she \nhowled loudly and fiercely, snapped her teeth, and \nrays or sparks of fire seemed to issue from her eyes \nas she awaited the intruder. Not a moment was to \nbe lost, \u2014 the instant was critical, and the hunter was \naware of his perilous situation. Possessing an ad\u00ac \nmirable presence of mind, he levelled his rifle, took \ndeliberate aim at what he supposed her head and \nfired. Stunned with the shock and almost suffocated \nby the smoke that had little or no vent, he had barely \nstrength and recollection to seize his hunting knife \nand prepare, should the wolf not have expired, to \nencounter the close and formidable attack she would, \nin all probability, make upon him. His feelings at \nthis moment were indeed awful ; retreat was entirely \ncut off ; the powerful animal would now be exasper\u00ac \nated to madness, \u2014 and he was compelled to receive \nher- furious and desperate assault in a narrow dark \npassage, so low that it was impossible to stand up\u00ac \nright. He perhaps now repented his foolish and rash \nimpetuosity \u2014 that had induced him to rush upon in\u00ac \nevitable destruction. He waited some seconds, ex\u00ac \npecting and prepared to meet the attack of the beast. \nBut all was silent, and as the smoke cleared away, by \nfinding a passage through the mouth of the den, he \nwatched with breathless impatience for another sight \nof the furious eyes of the wolf ; \u2014 they were not to be \nseen ; the darkness was now deep and uninterrupted. \nu Is she dead ?\u201d said Charles to himself, and the idea \nof her destruction relieved him from a cold, damp \nsweat that he found hanging on his forehead. He \nspeedily recovered his fearless spirit of adventure and \ndetermined to approach and ascertain the condition of \nthe wolf. Creeping some yards farther and holding \nhis knife prepared to defend himself, he stretched his \n\n\n124 THE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\nrifle towards the corner of the cave and touched the \nbody of the beast ; it did not move. The hunter be\u00ac \ncame more assured, seized it by the ears and retreat\u00ac \ning on his knees dragged the dead prize in triumph to \nthe mouth of the den. \n\nHis two friends had been waiting in anxious and \nbreathless expectation the event of his rash enterprize. \nWhen the report of the rifle had reached them, their \nfeelings had been wrought to the highest pitch of so\u00ac \nlicitude. Their excited fears had pictured the young \nsportsman falling a prey to the maddened and resist\u00ac \nless ferocity of the wolf ; and encountering a fearful \nand horrid death in the dark intricacies of the cav\u00ac \nern. \n\nThe Indian had spoken little, but was restless and \nuneasy, walking to and fro before the entrance of the \ncave, endeavouring to listen and learn the event by \nlaying his ear to the ground. Edward now blamed \nhimself for having, at any rate, suffered his compan> \nion to undertake the enterprize, and felt a degree of \nshame for having permitted him rather than himself \nto brave the animal in her den. Conquered by his \nfeelings he had determined to commit the imprudence \nhe had just reprobated, and was preparing to follow \nand ascertain the fate of his friend when the latter ap\u00ac \npeared unhurt and triumphant. He was greeted with \nstrong expressions of affection, and, as is often the \ncase, the success of his attempt seemed to obliterate \nits folly. Elated, but modest, for the truly brave are \nalways so, he received their congratulations and \npraises with silence and blushes. He now blamed \nhimself for what he called a fool-hardv and bovish \nexploit, which he begged them to forget and forgive. \n\nThe poor hound faint with the loss of blood, had \ncrept to his master\u2019s feet, and seemed by his fond and \ndumb caresses to participate in the pleasure and pride \nof the victory. At the sight of his favourite dog \nChesterly appeared evidently abashed ; the flush of \nshame, for an instant, burnt upon his cheek, and bend- \n\n\nTHE WITCH OP NEW ENGLAND. J25 \n\ning over the faithful animal he seemed endeavouring \nby present fondness to do away the memory of his \nundeserved harshness. Tearing a cravat from his \nneck, he staunched the blood and bound the wound of \nthe affectionate brute, who licking his master\u2019s hand \nforgot all sense of pain in the joy of his endearments. \n\nThey now determined to hunt in different directions \nand having appointed a place of rendezvous, they se\u00ac \nparated. Edward, followed by a hound, took a course \nthrough the forest, leading farther from the inhabited \nparts of the country and towards the dwelling of the \nfriend whom, in the morning, he had expressed an in\u00ac \ntention of visiting. He rambled for some hours \nthrough the woods, now lost in thought, and then \nstopping to admire some of the grand or lovely scenes \nthat constantly presented themselves. After walking \ntill he felt considerable fatigue, he stopped to take a \nfew moment\u2019s rest, when he ascertained, to his un\u00ac \nfeigned chagrin, that he had missed his way and that \nthere remained no hope of gaining the habitation of \nhis friend until the next morning. His only course, \nnow, was to endeavour to pass the intermediate hours \nas comfortably as possible in the forest. He contin\u00ac \nued his walk some distance further, seeking the most \nconvenient spot to repose on till the morning. \n\nNight had begun to draw on her mantle of sha\u00ac \ndows, and the last lingering masses of red and pur\u00ac \nple that painted the western clouds had melted in\u00ac \nto the darkness. The sluggish beetle swam through \nthe air upon his humming wings ; the cheerful cricket \nfilled the ear of evening with her never-dying song ; \nand the tree-frog sang his unvarying note from every \ntree. The fire-fly darted through the dark foliage, \nshowing her pale yellow light, and the night-loving \nbat sported in his rapid and irregular flights, passing \nswiftly across the path of the tired hunter. \n\nEdward threw aside his knapsack and determined \nto pass the night under the shelter of a large rock. \n\nM \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NF.W ENGLAND. \n\n\n12G \n\nHe proceeded to collect the dry wood which lay in \nthe neighbourhood, and having placed a layer of it \nround his intended couch, by the aid of his rifle he \nbegan to kindle the fire, without which it would have \nbeen unsafe to sleep in the forest, when the sound of \na footstep, at some distance, arrested his attention. \nUpon looking round he perceived, through the inter\u00ac \nvals of the large and ancient oaks, the figure of a man \nbending under the load of near half an elk and some \nbeavers, pursuing his course either not observing or \npretending ignorance of the presence of the young \nhunter. He called several times to the stranger, who \nmade no answer and continued his walk without halt\u00ac \ning. Edward now followed, with the determination \nof learning who the man might be, when the latter \nseeing his intention suddenly stopt and awaited his \napproach. His appearance and manner were ex\u00ac \ntremely singular ,* he was old but appeared still strong \nand active, wore neither hat nor shoe, had a long, \nwhite beard, and stood bending under his burden, \nwhich he had not thrown from his shoulders when he \nstopt. He said nothing, but with a surly and unsoci\u00ac \nable air waited the address of Bradley. The latter \nbade him good evening as he came up, observed he \nwas heavily laiden and asked if he intended to pass \nthe night in the forest or could guide him to any hut \nin the vicinity, though he believed that no dwelling \nwas to be found for many miles around. \n\n11 I\u2019ve a notion there are few livers here abouts but \nmyself,\u201d answered the man, \u201cand I\u2019m not over fond \nof company, stranger.\u201d \n\n\u201c Then you inhabit in this vicinity yourself, my \nfriend ?\u201d said Edward. \n\n\u201c Mayhap I do and mayhap 1 don\u2019t,\u201d answered \nthe other- \n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Edward, \u201c I have lost my way and \nbeen benighted in the woods, and if you can afford \nme a meal and shelter till the morning I shall be your \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n127 \n\n\ndebtor. If not I must return to my rock again and \ngo supperless to bed. I have been hunting all day \nand I promise you feel a sharp appetite.\u201d \n\nMike, for our readers will have recognized an old \nacquaintance, muttered a sort of grumbling invita\u00ac \ntion, and bade the young man to follow him. He led \nthe way through an extensive hazel thicket, whence \ndescending into a narrow and rocky ravine he fol\u00ac \nlowed a devious route, in the midst of a thick grove \nof swamp- ash, and at last arrived at a large and cheer\u00ac \nful fire which he had previously kindled, and in \ndefault of whose light the scene around would have \nbeen desolate and dreary in the extreme. But in the \nrecess, Mike Shuck and his plunder, as he very can\u00ac \ndidly termed it, (for it was the property of some In\u00ac \ndian hunter) were secure from all intrusion. As he \narrived he threw down his heavy burthen and turning \nto his self-invited guest, with a smile that malice al\u00ac \nmost converted into a grin, he desired him to be \nseated. \n\nu I live here, stranger,\u201d said he, \u201c and this is my \nchimney corner,\u201d pointing as he spoke to the large, \nblazing fire. \n\nEdward smiled and seated himself upon the bear^ \nskin to which his host motioned him, while the latter \nproceeded to prepare the supper and perform the rites \nof hospitality. The meal was speedily ready and con\u00ac \nsisted of a beaver-tail and an elk marrow-bone, both \nof which had been prepared, by Mike, on the coals. \nThe host ate heartily and without ceremony ; while \nhis companion, amused at the eccentric character be\u00ac \nfore him, made a slight meal on the delicacies above- \nmentioned, and speedily followed the example set by \nthe old man, who having despatched his supper threw \nhimself by the fire, and endeavoured to court repose. \nIn winning this solace howrever he seemed to find much \ndifficulty. He tossed with feverish restlessness from \nside to side, and continued a-low sort of murmer or \ncomplaining until Edward dropt asleep. \n\n\n123 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nCHAPTER XI. \n\n\u2022 \n\n. \u2022 . There is a place, \n\nA black and gloomy cave* with weeds o\u2019erhung, \n\nNe\u2019er kissed by jocund ray, \u2014 nor cheered with sound \nOf wilding laughter, \u2014 nor of sparkling jest, \n\nThither I\u2019ll wende my course. \n\nANOXYMOUS. \n\nThe next morning as the first beams of the sun \nwon their bright way through the thick foliage that \noverhung his couch, and fell upon his face, Edward \nawoke. He found his fellow-lodger already risen \nand employed in building a new fire upon the relics \nof that which had served them on the past night. \nHe nodded to his young companion as the latter arose \nand paid the compliments of the morning ; but con\u00ac \ntinued his arrangements for the new meal without \nbreaking silence or paying any sort of attention to his \nguest. He proceeded to cut some slices from the \nelk, which he broiled on the coals, and having served \nhimself to a large portion which he commenced de\u00ac \nvouring with great rapidity and relish, he turned to \nhis companion and invited him to follow his example. \nEdward helped himself to a piece of the stake, and as \nhe gazed at the old hunter admired the singular avid\u00ac \nity and despatch which he displayed in causing the \nprovision to disappear. \n\nu I certainly have enjoyed the pleasure of seeing \nyou before,\u201d said he to the beaver-hunter. \n\n\u201c Likely \u2014 likely,\u201d answered the other, \u201c I\u2019m Mike \nShuckwell, the hunter, and live on the mountains. \u2014 I \nguess, now I look at you, you must be the parson\u2019s \nson. \u2014 Isn\u2019t your name Bradley, stranger?\u201d \n\nu It is,\u201d answered Edward, \u201c and I shall be happy \nto make a return for your hospitality, if you will call \n\n\nTHE WITCH OP NEW ENGLAND. 199 \n\nat my father\u2019s house, when next your inclination may \nlead you to the village.\u201d \n\n\u201cIt\u2019s mighty seldom that inclination carries me. \nthere,\u201d said Mike, \u201c I can\u2019t fetch breath freely away \nfrom the hills ; it\u2019s pleasant living here, eh ! stranger ? \nTo be sure I am forced now and then to bide a few \nhours in the town to trade for powder and lead j\u2014 but \nI never quit home, if it is not for summat of that \nsort.\u201d \n\n\u201c You have not a very extensive society here it ap\u00ac \npears,\u201d said Bradley. \n\n\u201c Anan !\u201d said Mike, stareing and resting from his \nmeal for a moment. \n\n\u201c I say you seem to have but few companions or \nassociates.\u201d \n\n\u201c Oh ! ay I\u201d answered the hunter, looking cun* \nningly at Edward, \u201c the fewer the better, \u2014 they\u2019re al\u00ac \nways giving trouble and frighten the game with their \ntarnal long talk. I never had but one friend, here \nabouts, old Ranger, and he died a year back. Poor \nfellow ! \u2014 damn me if I don\u2019t think I\u2019d give up tobacco \nfor ever if I could only have the hound back again ; I \ncould not sleep for a week after he died, stranger \nand my vituals didn\u2019t relish some how for a while af\u00ac \nter he quit me, poor Ranger ! That thing at your \nfeet there is nothing to him.- We always slept on the \nsame skin and he knew my ways as well as I did \nmyself. Poor Ranger ! poor Ranger ! he quit me \na year back.\u201d \n\nThe old man dropped the bone he had been knaw- \ning, and fixing his eyes upon the dying embers of the \nfire, murmured to himself with an air of deep and \nunaffected sorrow ; he appeared entirely to forget that \nany one was near him, and moving his head slowly \nbackwards and forwards the hot tears collected in his \neyes, and overflowing, passed down his weather-bea\u00ac \nten cheeks, leaving their streaks upon his dark sun* \nburnt visage,\u2014 while he continued from time to time \nto mutter the words M poor Ranger, poor Ranger.\u201d \n\nm2 \n\n\n130 \n\n\nTHE WITCTT op NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nEdward had gazed at the grief of the gray-haired \nhunter with deep interest. He felt that consolation \nwould he fruitless \u2014 and he hail too much humanity \nto proffer it. It is the ready coin that passes, soiled \nby a thousand brutal hands, from the heartless gazer \nupon misery. It is the sinecure of the prosperous, \u2014 \nthe unfelt tax paid by the happy to the unfortunate. \nIt is the gratification of selfish content and haughty \nease, at the expense of breaking hearts and lowly \ndespondence. \n\nMike now rose and as his eye rested upon the fi\u00ac \ngure of the young man, he seemed to recollect himself \nand be aware that he was not, as usual, solitary. He \nturned to his companion and observed, \n\n\u201c It is as light now as it will be to day, stranger, \nand if you have far to go, you need not wait for the \nsun.\u201d \n\nEdward took the hint, and after again thanking his \nhost for the hospitality of the past night, he took his \nrifle and accompanied by his dog, pursued his route \nthrough the forest. After he had walked some dis\u00ac \ntance, he turned and observed the figure of the old \nbeaver- catcher in the same posture of melancholy \nthought ; gazing upon the dying embers of the fire \nand apparently wrapped in the recollection of his for\u00ac \nmer faithful and regretted associate. He made his \nway, with some difficulty, through the rocky and en\u00ac \ntangled thicket, and having after some labour and \ntime gained the summit of a high hill, he stopped in \norder to ascertain, if possible, his present situation \nand what route it was now necessary to follow, in or\u00ac \nder to reach the dwelling of the friend he intended to \nvisit. Having arrived at the top of the height, Edward \nfound a level plain lying before him about a mile square \npart of it covered by a beautiful meadow, formerly a \nbeaver-pond, flanked by a dam at each end. Here \nthough elevated more than three thousand feet above \nthe) level of the sea, the hunter beheld a deep and \nlovely valley i while from a steep and precipitous \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n131 \n\n\nmountain on the east issued several springs, one of \nwhich, the source of a neighbouring river, rushed \nmadly and impetuously down the rocky and abrupt \ndeclivities of the hill. In the distance and mingling \nwith the blue sea of heaven, swelling in their majes\u00ac \ntic heights, ran a long ridge of lofty hills, whose \nwhite heads were scarcely distinguishable from the \nclouds that eternally dwelt upon them. For these \nsummits the Indians entertained a religious and su\u00ac \nperstitious veneration, as the habitation of invisible \nand superior beings; and while they never dared to \nascend themselves, scrupulously endeavoured to de\u00ac \nter others from what they deemed a sacriligious and \nhazardous attempt. From Uncas, Edward had re\u00ac \nceived a hundred tales and traditions relative to the \nmarvellous mountain. Among others the Chief re\u00ac \nlated that his country had once been drowned, and all \nthe inhabitants, but a single pair, had been destroyed. \nThese foreseeing the flood had fled to the hill, lived \nand repeopled the desert fields. He had pointed out \nthe spot, an immense and inaccessible height, where \nlay a bed of rich and invaluable carbuncles, which iu \na dark and gloomy night, appeared bright and lumi\u00ac \nnous. ' The young hunter gazed with enthusiasm \nupon the scene, where sublimity and loveliness melted \ninto each other with a grace and charm of which na\u00ac \nture is alone capable. \n\nFrom the height on which he stood the country lay \nbefore him for many miles in extent, alternately grand \nand beautiful but always wild. He was now enabled \nto fix upon a course leading to the spot he intended to \nvisit, and having taken his direction he resumed his walk \nand after some fatigue reached tne place of his destina\u00ac \ntion. Between two huge rocks on the declivity of a hill \nsurrounded and almost hidden by thick bushes, ap\u00ac \npeared the entrance to a cave. Edward pushed aside \nthe underwood and briars, and in the gloomy recess, \nappeared the top of a ladder, by which he descended \nabout ten feet and found himself in a subterraneous \n\n\n132 THE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\napartment, where the faint and dim light afforded by \nthe aperture cast a solemn and somewhat melancholy \nglare on all around. A few articles of rough but \nuseful furniture appeared.- A cot-bed, a table and a \nchair were all the luxuries that caught the eye. But \nattention was immediately arrested by the singular \nyet highly venerable inhabitant of this dark abode. \nHe was a man very far advanced in life, of a noble \nand majestic presence ; a few white hairs still crowned \nhis high intellectual forehead, and a long, silver beard \nhung below his breast. He had been reading before \nthe entrance of the hunter, but on the appearance of \nthe latter laid aside his book and welcomed him with \nevery appearance of warm and unaffected pleasure. \n\n\u201c These kind visits, my young friend, to old age \nand misfortune are noble and generous,\u201d said he. \n\u201c I have learned from Uncas that your sister has es\u00ac \ncaped the designs of the savage Chief, and that the \nlatter is about to receive the reward of his villainous \nand desperate attempt. The faithful Indian first com\u00ac \nmunicated to me the intention of his countryman to \ncarry off the young maiden, and at my injunction \nhe lost no time in putting you upon your guard. \nThough it appears your sister unsuspectingly ran \nimminent danger and was saved almost miraculously.\u201d \n\n\u201c Yes,\u201d answered Edward, w thanks to the faithful \nand kind hearted Uncas and the exertions of a young \nfriend of mine, she is again happy with her family. \n\n\u201c What magic there lies in those two words, family \nand country,\u201d said the old man. \u201c I have bidden \nmine farewell for ever ; and my bones will rest far \nfrom the land of my infancy and the home of my fa\u00ac \nthers. Plato would not allow him to be banished \nwho still enjoyed sun, air, water and earth, as he had \ndone before. He accounted every place as country to \na wise man, and all parts of the worid a palace to \na quiet and honest mind. He thought nature had no \nmore given a man a country than she had bestowed \nupon him houses, lands or gold. I could not agree \n\n\nTHE WITCXXXOF YEW EVGLD. \n\n\n133 \n\n\nwith the ancient philosopher, even though I was ena\u00ac \nbled to enjoy the pure sunshine and the sweet air. \nAs it is, my young friend, I bear with patience the \nmisfortunes, which I cannot consider as the offspring \nof my own vices.\u201d \n\nEdward listened with attention and veneration to \nthe words of the venerable recluse, whose air of dig\u00ac \nnity, mildness and command, made deep impression \non his hearer. There was a touch of quiet, voiceless \ngrief that tinged his countenance, \u2014 though firm and \ndignified resignation appeared in every word and sen\u00ac \ntence that fell from his lips. \n\nu Is there no hope then,\u201d said Edward, u that you \nmay once again visit your native land ?\u201d \n\n44 None,\u201d replied the other, M Charles the I., though \nwith some amiable domestic qualities, was a tyrant, \nand merited the death he suffered. His son, with less \nvirtue than his father, has vices that make him still \nmore worthy the same scaffold. He will never for\u00ac \ngive the opponents of his sire, \u2014 and while he contin\u00ac \nues the hireling of France will never cease to perse\u00ac \ncute the friends of a pure and free government.\u201d \n\n41 But do you not think,\u201d asked Bradley, 44 that laws \ntoo severe may defeat their own end ? And that the \nKing would find it for his own interest to steep if \npossible all remembrance of the past in oblivion ?\u201d \n\n44 Doubtless, my dear Edward, good laws and good \nmorals are reciprocally formed by each other. But \nthe passions of revenge and hatred bury all other con\u00ac \nsiderations under their overwhelming influence. Kings \nnever forget injuries. They readily make use of \nmen who may be gifted with eloquence, courage or \nabilities, when they can serve their purposes ; but \nthey remain at the same moment jealous of their tal\u00ac \nents, and on all occasions strive to check their pride \nand blacken their reputation. The interest of kings \nand that of their subjects are diametrically opposite.\u201d \n\n41 I think,\u201d said Edward, 4< that the obligation of \nsubjects to the sovereign should subsist as long as, \n\n\n134 THE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\nand no longer, than the power and inclination last by \nwhich he is able and willing to protect them. When \n\u25a0the king forgets the laws and mercy, the people should \nnot remember their allegiance.\u201d \n\n\u201c When the weight of more years has fallen upon \nyou Edward,\u201d said the other, w you will have found \nthat men, in general, kings and subjects, keep their \nagreements when it is for their mutual advantage not \nto break them. Patience under some evils, (less than \nthey might be) corresponds more with my stiff and fee\u00ac \nble age than with your youthful blood, which would boil \nunder them. But if I might presume to indulge in pro\u00ac \nphecy, I would predict that this land would one clay \nbecome as independent as free ; the refuge of the per\u00ac \nsecuted, and the resting place of the unfortunate wan\u00ac \nderer. You cannot from the nature of circumstances \nremain dependant on the mother country ; \u2014 but a sep- \neration will engender a jealous hatred that will live \nlong and grow by that which will afford it food.\u201d \n\nThe old man sighed, as thus, with the spirit of pro\u00ac \nphecy, he foretold the cold courtesy, the rigourous \ninjustice, which was to be extended by a harsh and \ncruel mother towards an uncherished and hated off\u00ac \nspring. He beheld in imagination, while he depicted \nwith the wisdom of experience and the warm, glow\u00ac \ning eloquence of excited feeling, the contemptuous \nbearing of the parent land towards the ardent aspira\u00ac \ntions of the young and unfledged country. Her scorn\u00ac \nful denouncements of the virtues, talents, spirit of \nthose who should have the audacity to shake off the \ntrammels of an unkind and tyrannical mother, \u2014 he \npainted in deep and glaring colours. He spoke of the \nbiting sneers, the malicious falsehoods and the daring \nlibels that would be showered upon the morals, litera\u00ac \nture, manners, of the youthful people. But while he \nlamented this ungenerous and unmanly conduct, he \ndrew a pure and beautiful portrait of what the young \nand hardy nation was in future to become. \n\nEdward listened with delight to the wise, and at \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n135 \n\n\ntimes, impassioned elocution of the gray-bearded or\u00ac \nator -and reflecting upon his hard and undeserved \nfortunes and on the mild equanimity with which he \nbore them, he beheld him with increased veneration. \n\n\u201cTo your watchful benevolence, my young friend,\u201d \nsaid he, \u201c I am indebted for all the comforts of this \ndesolate habitation. To you I owe the great, I was \nabout to add the only, solace of solitude, my books. \nThank Heaven, with them, forgetfulness kindly steals \nupon a few hours of my lonely existence. I cannot \nimagine a state more destitute than that of him who \nwhen the delights of sense have fled, has no pleasures \nof the mind to gild the dreadful blank of life. To \nyou and to the faithful, feeling savage I owe every \nthing.\u201d \n\n\u201c You possess, indeed, a devoted friend in Uncas;\u201d \nsaid Edward, \u201c next to the Great Spirit I believe he \nreverences you. There is a wild enthusiasm in his \nattachment which belongs to an uncultivated, but a no\u00ac \nble mind ; it is as pure as it is uncommon.\u201d \n\n\u201c Since I quitted Europe,\u201d said the old man, u my \nwife and two children have left this world. One re\u00ac \nmains, a daughter. Many months since, I contrived to \nsend her information of my existence and conjured her, \nif possible, to let me once again behold and bless her. \nI intended when she arrived in the country to have \nbegged the protection of your family towards her, \u2014 \nto have embraced her and them in the common course \nof nature, I could not have expected to survive but a \nbrief period. I have awaited news of her with an \nimpatience and anxiety not to be conceived, \u2014 but as \nyet have received none. Promise me, Edward, that \nif she arrives, you will protect her as a brother, while \nhere, and place her in a situation to return with \nsafety to her friends in Europe.\u201d \n\nBradley readily promised to perform what was re\u00ac \nquired of him, and his companion seemed to be re\u00ac \nlieved from a heavy weight of anxiety, as he offered \nthanks for the intended courtesy. Some hours were \n\n\n136 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\npassed by the two friends in a conversation as inter\u00ac \nesting as it was instructive to the younger. The old \nman displayed a wisdom, experience and knowledge \nof the affairs of Europe,\u2014 ^combined with a fund of \ndeep learning that at once instructed and charmed his \nattentive listener. But the progress of the sun now \nwarned Edward that the moment for his departure \nhad arrived. Bidding his host an affectionate fare\u00ac \nwell, with the promise of meeting him again ere long, \nhe left the cave and commenced his way towards the \nspot at which he expected to meet his fellow sports\u00ac \nmen on their return homewards. \n\nThe shadows were long and dark when he reached \nthe appointed rendezvous, where he found the two \nhunters, fatigued with the day\u2019s sport and awaiting his \narrival. The ardent Chesterly recounted with ani\u00ac \nmated delight their successful chase, and expressed \nsurprize that his friend had not proved equally for\u00ac \ntunate. The kind-hearted Indian spoke little, but \nseemed gratified at the air of satisfaction that dwelt \nupon the countenance of Edward, as it augured that \nall was well at the cave. The latter amused his com\u00ac \npanions with an account of his past night\u2019s lodging and \na description of his host, with whom Uncas appeared \nwell acquainted. Charles had met him in the forest \nduring his former excursions, and knew him well by \nreport as the eccentric and vagabond hunter. Re\u00ac \nsuming their walk toward the village, near the com\u00ac \nmencement of which the Indian bade them goodnight, \nthe two friends soon arrived at the parsonage, where \nthe foresight of Agnes had prepared a supper to which \nthe tired sportsmen did ample justice before they re\u00ac \ntired to their chambers. \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND, \n\n\n137 \n\n\nCHAPTER XII. \n\nFull hearts can\u2019t always burst. \n\nBut like some weeping stream to ruin run; \n\nHid\u2019n from the cheering sun. \n\nAnd with black shadows of remembrance curs\u2019t. \n\nAnonymous. \n\nAfter the Witch had thrust the children of Lack- \nbrain into the pen, or Devil\u2019s Invention, and retired \naccompanied by Mike Shuck, the poor boys had wept \nuntil fatigue, and the approach of night, brought on \na deep slumber, in which they lay until the next \nmorning. Necessity can sharpen the wits of men, \nand it added to the acuteness of the children. The \nlittle fellows finding an egress at the top impossible, \ninstinctively began to search for one at the bottom of \ntheir prison; and guided by the direction of Nature, \nsucceeded in scratching a passage beneath the logs, \nthrough which they eventually escaped. As they \nwere ignorant of the route to the village, they wan\u00ac \ndered for three days about the rocks and forest, en\u00ac \ndeavouring to subsist upon the wild fruits, until at\u00ac \ntracted by the noise of the ocean, they were, at last, \nled to the shore. Their parents, in the mean time, \nalarmed at their unusual absence, had assembled their \nneighbours, and after searching without success, and \nin a fearful anxiety for two days, on the third disco\u00ac \nvered the unfortunate infants. \n\nThe elder boy, of a delicate and feeble frame, had \nwith a noble generosity, endeavoured to procure a \nscanty subsistance for the younger at his own ex\u00ac \npense. Employed in plucking berries for his bro\u00ac \nther, and in attempting to soothe the piercing lamen\u00ac \ntations of the hungry child, he had neglected his own \n\nN \n\n\n133 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\npains, until nature, become entirely exhausted by the \nlong and weakening fast, had at last faltered, and given \nway. On the evening of the third day after their \nescape, they reached the 'sea, \u2014 and here nothing pre\u00ac \nsented itself to the affrighted and feeble infants but \nthe sandy beach, and the dreary, measureless face of \nthe dark waters. Exhausted, and incapable of pro\u00ac \nceeding further, the elder, at length gave way to \nthe tears he had hitherto restrained, and subdued \nby the acute pains of a torturing hunger, and an utter \nfeebleness, he had lain himself under the shelter of a \nlarge log thrown by the sea on the shore. Here, \nholding his brother closely clasped in his embrace, \nand endeavouring to soothe his piercing cries as long \nas his exhausted strength permitted, the brave boy \nhad at length sunk into a slumber from which he ne\u00ac \nver awoke. \n\nu Never mind, Tom,\u201d said he, in faltering tones to \nthe younger, who was sobbing, with pain and fright, \nu we\u2019ll see mother soon, and then you\u2019ll have a good, \nhearty supper, and lie in your own bed again. And \nwhen morning comes, you\u2019ll have plenty of bread and \nmilk, \u2014 and \u2014 \u201d \n\nHere the dry and husky voice of the child was \nlost in a low, indistinct rattling in the throat, and \npressing his brother closely in his arms, he sunk into \nsleep, or more properly, death. \n\nIn this situation they were found by some of the \nvillagers, towards night-fall, and carried home to the \ndisconsolate parents. Every exertion to restore the \nfamished child proved fruitless, and the other nearly \nexhausted, appeared almost in the jaws of death. The \nfather, attached to his children, and naturally, when \nnot warped by prejudice or ignorance, warm-hearted, \nseemed to feel deep and unaffected sorrow. But it \nwas upon the violent and uncurbed temper of the mo\u00ac \nther, that grief showed itself with a strength and fear\u00ac \nful violence, that bordered upon insanity. The dead \n\n\nTHE WITCH OP NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n130 \n\n\nboy had been her favourite, her darling child. As \nmild and gentle, as the parent was loud and stormy, \nhe had twined like a delicate and beautiful vine round \nher harsher nature, and when he died and fell, her \nheart seemed plucked forth by the fragile tendrils \nthat clung to it. At one moment she hung in quiet \nand suffocating grief over the pale corpse, gazing as \nif life depended on the sight of her offspring. Then, \nas if suddenly awakened to a sense of her situation, \nand of the truth, she abandoned herself to a wild \nstorm of sorrow, as shocking as it was afflicting. She \ncalled upon her darling William by every fond and \nendearing name, \u2014 wrung her hands, and wept with \nagony at receiving no answer ; then, with flashing \neyes, uttered threats and reproaches at his silence, \nand finally, in a paroxysm of delirious suffering, sunk \nat the feet of her deceased boy. Senseless and ex\u00ac \nhausted, the wretched parent was carried from the \nmelancholy object of her watchfulness, and placed in \nher chamber, where she lay feeble and unconscious \nfor some hours. \n\nMany of the neighbouring gossips had been at\u00ac \ntracted by curiosity, or other motives, to visit the \nhouse of mourning ; and as the funeral was to take \nplace on the ensuing evening, three women offered \ntheir services to watch the body during the night. \nRefreshments were placed in the chamber, and a so\u00ac \nlitary lamp cast its gloomy light over the bed of death, \nand the faces of the watchers, who were soon left to \nthemselves by the unfeeling gazers, as darkness \nwarned them that a return homewards was then pru\u00ac \ndent. Their potations were deep and frequent, and \nincreased their natural garrulity. \n\n\u201c It\u2019s a sore loss to goodwife Lackbrain, the death \nof her cherished boy,\u201d said an old, shrivelled female, \nwith a cough that interrupted her speech at every \nthird word. \n\nb\u2018Yes, yes,\u201d answered another, \u201cI know whose \n\n\n140 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nheart aches ; but pride should have a fall, and those \nthat dress in scarlet, may come to wear mourning. \nI\u2019m told that Annie Brown was here the other noon, \nand high words fell \u2019twixt her and the mistress here. \nFew quarrel with the old one hut some harm comes, \nas you can tell goody Dawson.\u201d \n\n\u201c I scorn your meaning, mistress,\u201d said a stout* \nred-faced woman, whose cheeks bore testimony of \nher fondness for the cup. \u201c I gave the foul witch \nas good as she brought, and will again, any day, the \nhag ! And if there \u2019s law in the land she will hang \nyet.\u201d \n\nu Ah, she \u2019s a powerful one,\u201d coughed out the eldest \nspeaker, M and man)7 a wild tale they tell of her and \nthe devil. Ye had better ware, gossips, how ye trifle \nwith one that rules the bad spirits. I could tell ye \nmany a spell that Annie has formed and wrought, an \nif I had breath, but,\u201d \u2014 here the ancient dame was \n, precluded from adding more by a violent fit of cough\u00ac \ning, which continued some minutes, and nearly suffo\u00ac \ncated the old woman, who, as a relief, had repeatedly \nrecourse to the brandy, which stood on the table. \n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said dame Walford, looking round the \nroom with some alarm, \u201c she is a powerful woman, and \nit is little I should like to offend her. Why, it is no \nlater than Lord\u2019s day last, that Mary Smith was going \nhome with a neighbour, that she separated from at \nthe freshet next her house. Well, on her return be\u00ac \ntween goodman Dawson\u2019s, and Thomas Evans\u2019, she \nwas startled by a rustling in the woods, which she \nthought was occasioned by swine, and presently after \nthere did appear to her a woman, whom she apprehend\u00ac \ned to be Annie Brown. The last asked her where her \nconsort was ; and she answered she had none. And \nthen she said, \u201c thy consort is at home by this time. \nLend me a pound of cotton.\u201d Then Mary told her \nshe had but two pounds in the house, and would not \nspare any, even to her mother. And the Witch an* \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n141 \n\n\nswered, she had better have done it, for her sorrow \nwas great already, but should be much greater ; and \nthat she was going a great journey, but should never \nget there. As she left her, she was struck as with a \nclap of fire on the back, the Witch vanished toward \nthe water side, in Mary\u2019s apprehension, in the shape \nof a cat. While the Witch had on her head a white \nlinen hood, tied under the chin, and her waistcoat and \npetticoat were brown, with an old green apron, and \na black hat, upon her head.\u201d \n\n\u201c Beside all that,\u201d exclaimed the eldest watcher of \nthe dead, \u201c her husband Oliver told me that she came \nhome in a sad condition. Ugh, Ugh \u2014 Ugh \u2014 this \ncough is destroying me. Mistress Dawson give me \na little of the liquor if it please ye. Well, \u2014 he said \nthat Mary passed by him with the child in her aTms, \nand laid it on the bed, while she sat down on the \nchest, and leaned her head on her elbow. Three times \nhe asked her how she did, \u2014 but she could not speak. \nAnd then he took her in his arms, and held her up, \nand repeated the question, while she seemed to have \nsomething in her throat, that stopped her breath, \u2014 \u2022 \nUgh \u2014 Ugh \u2014 Ugh \u2014 a little spirit if ye please. Well, \nhe unlaced her clothes, and then she spake, and said, \nLord have mercy on me, this wicked woman will kill \nme. And when he asked what woman, she said \ngoody Brown. He, poor man, tried to persuade her \nthat it was all her weakness, \u2014 but she told him no, \u2014 - \nand said, that her back was as a flame of fire, and her \nlower parts were, as it were, numb, and without feel\u00ac \ning. He even pinched her, and she felt it not. She \ncontinued that night, and the day and night following, \nvery ill, and is still bad of her limbs, and complains \nstill, daily of it. If this be never witchcraft, I never \nsaw a witch,-\u2014 and few will deny that , I guess. And, \nmoreover, I saw her myself at the time she was ill, \nand her face was coloured, and spotted with several \neolours. The neighbours said it was fantasy, but her \n\nN 2 \n\n\n142 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\neyes, for all the world, looked as if they had been \nscalded.\u201d \n\n\u201c Often have I seen her,' followed by her cat,1\u2019 said \nDame Walford, \u201c Oliver told me that he saw her cat \ncome into the garden, \u2014 and he took down his gun to \nshoot her, but the beast got upon a tree, and the gun \nwould not take fire, nor stay cocked, with all he could \ndo. After that the man saw three cats, the large \nblack one vanished away on the plain ground, and he \ncould never tell how they went. I don\u2019t think ye\u2019li \nrefuse to believe in her witchcraft now, goody Daw\u00ac \nson.\u20191 \n\n\u201c I believe she deserves a halter, and will get it \nsome day, yet,\u201d said the other. \u201c I often see the bea\u00ac \nver catcher, old Mike Shuck, wandering about the \nwild hills with her, and if he does not look sly, she \nwill bring him to the gallows with her.\u201d \n\n\u201c D\u2019ye think the lamp burns blue ?\u201d said dame \nWalford, evidently not at ease. u It is about the evil \nhour, and I wish I was in my own bed again. They \nsav Maho is the devil that has chief possession of \nAnnie, and he from all accounts is one of mighty \npower. The elves that plait the horses1 tails, my hus\u00ac \nband says, are all servants to her, and that all the mis\u00ac \nchief done in the barn-yard is by her spells.\u201d \n\n\u201c She uses the withered branches of yew in her \nmidnight charms,\u201d said the old woman, u and while \nthe charm is working, she is mute as death, for if \nthe silence is broke, every one knows the spell will \nbe marred. It is a mighty thing to have such potent \nskill, especially when a woman begins to wax old, and \nis apt to meet little but scorn and neglect. It is cer\u00ac \ntain, moreover, that whoever draws the Witch\u2019s blood \nis free from her power, though there be none will deny \nthat danger dwells in the trial. Ye did not scratch \nher cheek till ye saw the crimson stream, I reckon, \ngoodwife Dawson. The more for your ill luck.\u201d \nw It was not for want of inclination I did not plant \n\n\nTHE WITCH OP NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n143 \n\n\nmy nails in her face, and learn the colour of her \nblood, \u201d said the other. \u201c The time may come when \nmy fingers will be sharper, and the beldame\u2019s skin \nsomewhat softer.\u201d \n\n\u201c Ah ! you are a wilful woman, and must e\u2019en have \nyour own way,\u201d said the ancient dame, u but ye had \nbetter take a friend\u2019s counsel and ware how you med\u00ac \ndle with the cunning one. It is little good-will she \nbears towards' any, and less to them that thwart or \nmolest her.\u201d \n\nIn such disjointed chat the three females whiled \naway the moments until the arrival of morning, when \nreleased from their watch, each returned to her home \nto await the fall of evening and the hour of the fune\u00ac \nral, \u2014 at which the trio had determined, at all events, \nto be present. A burial is a ceremony, in which to \nmy simple apprehension, it appears that females take \nmore interest than men. In the populous city, as the \nlong train moves slowly to the dwellings of the dead, \nthe crowd of gazers numbers among its anxious and \nexcited spectators a far greater number of the gentler \nsex. Is curiosity or sensibility the motive ? A sight \nwhich in the numerous town is one that saddens some \nmoment of every day, is in the narrow village an oc\u00ac \ncurence of pith and rarity. And so far is one of \nmore than common interest. The victim knew and \nwas known by all. By his departure a void has been \nmade which each one sees, \u2014 and many feel. To wit\u00ac \nness the rites with which he is consigned to his kin\u00ac \ndred dust is therefore the business of all. Many join \nwith the throng to see and be seen, \u2014 some to de\u00ac \ntract from the dead and envy the living, and the far \ngreater number herd with the crowd as gregarious \nanimals. They follow the festering body to the spot, \nwhere the warrior and the man of peace, the happy \nand the miserable mingle their remains in one mass \nof common putrefaction. He that rambles above the \nsepulchres of men, may from the tombs read pas- \n\n\n144 \n\n\nTIIE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nsionate and eloquent advice. The fever of pride may \nbe abated, the lust of vanity may die before the \nmausoleum and from vice may sometimes be stript \nher rich and gaudy masquerade. \n\nAs the hour approached a crowd began to collect \nbefore the house of Lackbrain. The relatives and \nfriends of the family were ushered into the dwelling, \nwhere, with windows closed, they sat in darkness and \nin silence. Under the piazza and before the door a \nnumber of men remained walking or conversing. \nAmong these latter, and as it appeared, a sojourer at \nthe village caravansary, stood a short, fat, rosy-faced \nman, about fifty years of age. His countenance was \nshrewd and intelligent ; a quick, bright eye lent ani\u00ac \nmation to his face ; and all his motions gave evidence \nof a restless and intrepid temper. The costume of \nthe stranger was, at that time not so common as it is \nnow. It consisted of a plain drab coat, without col\u00ac \nlar, breeches of the same cloth, stockings and shoes, \nand a large broad-brimmed hat which maintained a \nfirm and unmoving position upon the head of its \nowner. In a word he wore the dress and manner of \na Quaker. The appearance of a stranger, as usual \nexcited a stir and buzz among the assembled villa\u00ac \ngers. Questions were asked among the crowd re\u00ac \nspecting the new-comer and when not satisfactorily \nanswered, they were often repeated to the stranger \nhimself, who with a shrewdness and sarcastic wit an\u00ac \nswered in such a way as to put his examiners com\u00ac \npletely at fault. Sometimes in return to a direct in\u00ac \nterrogatory he baffled the proposer by a question \nequally particular, and appeared to derive infinite \namusement from the disappointed curiosity of his \nwell-bred inquisitors. Various opinions and rumours \nran through the small knots of spectators,\u2014 and while \nmost agreed in denominating him a Quaker, others \nwent so far as to declare he was one of a sect of \nFriends called Tom Case\u2019s crew, the disciples of one \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n145 \n\n\nTom Case, who had been so troublesome and vexa\u00ac \ntious even to the Friends themselves, that they had \ndenied him and his followers. \n\nAn old and starch-looking puritan who had assailed \nthe stranger with numerous and well applied ques\u00ac \ntions, seemed particularly irritated at the answers he \nhad received and eyed his offender with an angry and \nsearching eye. Several of his acquaintance had col\u00ac \nlected round him and listened with some deference to \nthe expression of his opinions. \u201c He is one of Case\u2019s \ncrew, or I never saw one,\u201d said he, \u201c And you all \nknow, that of this prodigious Tom and his band, \nthere are things well known in this country, that are \nprodigious and diabolical. \u2019Tis well known, I say, that \nsome of these, whom this villain had led captive at \nhis will, were so much under his influence, that if upon \ntheir coming where he was, he fastened his eye upon \nthem, they would presently tremble and stagger and \nfall and foam like epileptical persons, and roll about \nupon the ground, until they rolled unto his feet, where \nhe did what he pleased with them.\u201d \n\nu Yes,\u201d answered another pale, yellow-looking man, \nwith long, lank cheeks, and strait black hair, combed \nflat and smooth upon his forehead. \u201c He fascinated \na friend of mine by his eye, and he drooped and fell \nsick for some months until the foul fiend left him, and \nthen he remained powerful weak and never had his \nappetitite for a lengthy time.\u201d \n\n\u201c I have it from excellent authority too,\u201d said Oliver \nSmith, the first speaker, w that a mad and furious bull \nthat had become the terror of all the country around, \nwhen he beheld this Tom, came and licked his hands, \nas quietly and tamely as if he had been a spaniel.\u201d \n\n\u201c My woman, who fears few things,\u201d said good- \nman Dawson, \u201c ordered me if I came in the way of \nthis aforesaid Case, to mind my eye and keep at a \nwary distance, for she believes the devil lodges in \nhim. Is it not likely think ye neighbours ?\u201d \n\n\n146 \n\n\nTIfE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nAs the conversation continued, curiosity became \nmore excited, and by degrees the talkers had ap\u00ac \nproached the end of the piazza, where sat composed \nand calm the object of universal attention. Without \nappearing to listen he had caught many of the re\u00ac \nmarks, as they fell from the speakers, and at times as \nhe turned his head to look down the long street, or \nwatch the approach of some newly arriving couple, \na slight smile of scorn was observed gamboling about \nhis mouth. Goodman Smith with a dogged perti\u00ac \nnacity, at length assailed him again, and exerting all \nhis ingenuity, endeavoured by cross-questions to eli\u00ac \ncit some account of his profession, name and business \nat the village. The puritan was, however, no match \nfor the shrewd and sarcastic stranger, who, preserving \nhis temper with admirable coolness, baffled with ease \nand no little triumph, all the attacks made upon him. \nAs the assaulters had their own arms turned against \nthem, they evidently became incensed, and from sly \ninuendos, began to proceed to open and heavy charges \nagainst the object of their curiosity. His cutting an\u00ac \nswers and contemptuous sneers had driven Oliver \ninto a fever of passion, which he endeavoured, with \nmuch inconvenience to himself to smother, being \naware that the place and occasion of the meeting were \nlittle fitted for broils and noisy contention. The din\u00ac \ngy complexion and ashy lips of the meagre Dawson \nassumed a hue commonly a stranger to their pallid and \nbloodless surface ; and the natural fearfulness of his \ndisposition was stung almost into desparate daring by \nthe taunts which were evidently with malicious and \nunsparing causticness, directed against his remarks \nand figure. He became restless and uneasy, for a \nmoment advanced with a flushed cheek and sparkling \neye, as if wrought to the commission of some sudden \nand violent act, but the feeble nerves of the paltroon \nwithered as he met the calm look of his adversary \nand he slunk baffled and agitated to his position, be- \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. 147 \n\nhind some less timorous spectator. A coward can\u00ac \nnot act the man of courage. Vanity may induce him \nto attempt the character, \u2014 but he generally over acts, \n4 out-herods Herod,\u2019 has the mask torn from his con\u00ac \ntorted features and takes refuge in his habitual pusil\u00ac \nlanimity. \n\nThe conversation had already assumed a stormy \ncast and the vanquished in argument were evidently \nabout to forget decorum and fly to the last resort in \nunequal disputes, by courtesy, called the ultimate \nreasoning of kings. The idea of force and hard \nblows had perceptibly flashed upon the minds of some \nof the more numerous party, who were upon the eve \nof using this royal prerogative and of treating the \nsuccessful disputant with an unceremonious drubbing, \nwhen luckily for the convenience of the v/eaker party, \nthe minister made his appearance and appeased the \ntumult. The unknown had hitherto preserved his \ntemper and presence of mind with admirable cool\u00ac \nness, and nothing dismayed had prepared, if not to \nattack at least to defend and repulse, with the con\u00ac \njoined energies of a fearless spirit and vigorous body. \nThough still collected, he was apparently under the \neffect of very considerable excitement, which the ap\u00ac \npearance of the clergyman did not seem to lessen. \nAs the latter approached, the crowd gave way and he \nadvanced towards the object upon whom all eyes \nwere fixed in anger or curiosity. The latter feeling \nin the multitude was not decreased, when as the mi\u00ac \nnister walked on and looked steadfastly, for a moment \non the stranger, he changed colour and appeared to \nfeel disgust and antipathy. \n\n44 What do you here, man of evil and of fearful \nways ?\u201d said Bradley. \n\n44 1 am pursuing the calls of my business, friend,\u201d \nanswered the other, 44 and I hold it that thou hast \nneither law nor reason for propounding useless and \nimpertinent interrogatories to a casual sojourner in \n\n\n143 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nthy village, \u2014 and one, moreover, who is neither wil\u00ab \nling nor intending to answer thy uncalled for ques\u00ac \ntions.\u201d \n\n\u201c Thomas Case,\u201d sakl the minister, for the re\u00ac \ndoubtable stranger was, indeed, no other than that \nrenowned and intrepid person ; u much outcry has \nbeen raised on account of New England persecuting \nthe Quakers ; but for my part, I will not raise my \nvoice in the cry, and though it becomes me to pre\u00ac \nvent these irrascible men from laying violent hands \nupon your body, I exhort you to quit our peaceable \nhabitations and return to those who harbour you. \nYou have hitherto been too successful in seducing the \npeople, not only to attend unto the mystical dispensa\u00ac \ntions of the light within, as having the whole of reli\u00ac \ngion contained therein, but also to oppose the good \norder both civil and sacred erected in the colonv.\u201d \n\n\u201c Puritan,\u201d answered Case, with a bold and un\u00ac \ndaunted air, \u201c thou hast vomited forth much abuse \nagainst the best men in this and the English nation, and \nthou hast profanely and wantonly alluded to doctrines \nof our creed. Look, proud one, to thine own errors \nof belief and thy backslidings, and use thy neigh\u00ac \nbours with better manners.\u201d \n\n\u201c Sneering man,\u201d said the other. \u201c It has been so \nbrought to pass by the insolence of traducers that \nunder the name of Puritans all our religion is branded. \nWhosoever squares his actions by any rule Divine or \nhuman, he is a puritan. Whosoever would be go\u00ac \nverned by the king's laws, he is a puritan. Whether \nthis account of matters be allowed or no, there have \nbeen among the puritans some of the most emi\u00ac \nnent of these days. There have been men, whose \ncharacters might very agreeably be looked for, \namong the collections of a Dorotheus, or the orations \nof a Nazianzen, or they are worthy, at least, of no\u00ac \nthingless than the exquisite style of a Melchior Adam \nto eternize them.\u201d \n\n\nTHE WITCH OP NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n149 \n\n\nu Thy belief is seated is superstition and thy creed \nis profane, and blasphemous towards thy Creator,\u201d \nsaid the other, w therefore cease thy unmerited eulo\u00ac \ngies on men and on doctrines whereon heaven smiles \nnot.\u201d \n\n\u201c Quakerism,\u201d interrupted Bradley, very indignant, \n\u201c has, by some, and truly, been called the sink of all \nheresies ; we see the vomit cast out in the by-past \nages by whole kennels of seducers, licked up again in \nthese days, for a new digestion and once more ex\u00ac \nposed for the poisoning of mankind. Away scoffer \nand hardened unbeliever.\u201d \n\nHere Tom Case could no longer contain the tem\u00ac \npest which had been long brewing and which had \ngained a force and violence which nothing could quell. \nHis face become bloated with rage. His eyes as\u00ac \nsumed a wild and brutal lustre, and giving vent to his \ncollected wrath, he burst into the following anathema \nagainst his antagonist : u Hence and trouble me no \nmore, thou fiery fighter and green-headed trumpeter, \n\u2014 thou hedge-hog and grinning dog, \u2014 thou mole,\u2014 \nthou lizzard, \u2014 thou bell of no metal, but the tone of \na kettle, \u2014 thou wheel-barrow,\u2014 thou whirl pool, \u2014 \nthou fire-brand, \u2014 Oh thou whirligig, \u2014 thou adder and \nscorpion, \u2014 thou louse, \u2014 thou mooncalf, \u2014 thou ragged \ntatterdemalion, \u2014 thou Judas, \u2014 thou livest in philo\u00ac \nsophy and logic that are of the devil.\u201d \n\nThe clergyman remained confounded at the vehe\u00ac \nmence and passion with which the Quaker uttered his \nabuse. He was silent for a moment and seemingly \nrecovering the self-possession he had nearly lost, stood \ncalmly gazing at the infuriated stranger. The latter \nexhausted, and breathless with rage and the rapidity \nof his utterance, became silent also, \u2014 but still eyed \nhis opponent with a fixed and determined stare of \nunbending enmity. The surrounding spectators, who \nhad watched the encounter with much excitement, \nevidently leaning towards the side of their pastor, \n\no \n\n\n150 \n\n\nTHE WITGH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nnow betrayed intentions by no means friendly towards \nCase. Old Smith, whose enmity had not been les\u00ac \nsened by what had recently passed, approached and \nwas about to lay hands' upon the object of his dis\u00ac \nlike. The latter regarded him with a firm and un\u00ac \nchanging aspect, and while he warned him to lay no \nviolent hand upon him was by no means terrified at \nthe expected encounter. The fleshless Dawson \nseemed also to raise the ghost of his manhood and \ngave some gentle note of intended violence. The \nspirit seemed catching and was on the point of being \ncommunicated to the throng, when Bradley, inter\u00ac \nfering, recalled the men to a sense of the occasion and \nplace of their meeting. A calm succeeded the storm, \nand the Quaker complying with the hint of the mi\u00ac \nnister that a removal would be most proper, having \nordered his horse, with a stern and unsubdued air, \nmounted and rode slowly out of the village, while \nthose he left behind, somewhat ashamed for their vio\u00ac \nlence, remained silent and awaiting the progress of \nthe funeral. \n\nBradley seized the occasion to declaim against the \nreligion of the Friends and the toleration allowed by \nthe government to different sects. \u201c Poly-piety,\u201d \nsaid he, \u201c is the greatest impiety in the world, my \nhearers and friends. My heart naturally detests tole\u00ac \nration of divers religions, or of one religion in segre- \ngant shapes, however disguised. To authorize an \nuntruth by toleration of state, is to build a sconce \nagainst the walls of heaven whereby to batter God \nout of his chair and tumble down the throne of the \nHigh One. He that is willing to tolerate any unsound \nopinion, that his own may be tolerated in return, \nthough never so sound, will for a need hang God\u2019s \nbible at the devil\u2019s girdle and offer the bread of life \nto the scornful demons. It is astonishing to me that \nthe brains of men should be so parboiled in such im\u00ac \npious ignorance. Credit me, my brethren, we should \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n151 \n\n\nnot authorize a single and ungodly toleration in mat\u00ac \nters of religion. But in the present case violence \ntowards the scoffer and unbeliever would have been \ndisreputable and of little avail. I would also raise \nray feeble voice against the painting of the cross \nupon the English standard, as no way comporting with \nthe sacred character thereof. For though the said \nsymbol hath been erased from the colours of our \nmilitia, it is still sinfully retained in the ensigns of \ncourts and ships. Let me, my hearers, also seize \nthe present moment to cry out with my combined \npowers against an evil which hath advanced with ra\u00ac \npid and huge strides in our infant colony. I allude \nto the custom and new fangled fashion of wearing a \nthing called a wig, \u2014 a thing uncivil and unmanly, \nwhereby men do deform themselves and offend sober \nand modest persons and do evidently corrupt good \nmanners and molest the sanctity of the tabernacle.\u201d \n\nThe minister now proceeded to the chamber where \nlay the unburied body of the dead child. Here a far \ndifferent scene presented itself. Instead of the noise \nand turmoil of the out-door occurrence, all was silent, \ndark and sad. The coffin lay open and the placid, \nbeautiful countenance of the sweet boy appeared un\u00ac \ncovered. Death had not yet stolen the lovely hues \nand expression which it bore when life lingered, as \nif loath to quit so fair a dwelling. A faint and hard\u00ac \nly preceptible expression was about the mouth, which \nmight almost have been called the smile of resigna\u00ac \ntion, as if the guileless, innocent being had breathed \nhis last breath during a rich and happy dream. The \npangs of hunger and the terrors attending his waking \nmoments had been steeped in forgetfulness ; and some \nenchanting vision seemed even yet to play about the \npale corpse and rob it of all disgustful appearance. \nIt was placid and seemed happy. \n\nIn a corner of the chamber sat the father, his face \ncovered with his hands, through which the large tears \n\n\n152 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\ntrickled uncontrolled, and frequent convulsive sobs, \nto which he gave way, without the power of opposi\u00ac \ntion, broke the general silence of the place. Beside \nher child, and with the fixed, unwandering stare of \nagony, knelt the heart-broken mother. Her grief \nwas silent, and her eye met nothing but the melan\u00ac \ncholy object that she mourned, with inward torment. \nA death-like paleness had usurped the place of her \nhabitual complexion ; while her handsome, well-form\u00ac \ned, features were contorted, and tremulous. Her \neyes were swoln and inflamed, but she shed no tears. \nHer hand now and then touched the forehead of the \nboy, as if to smooth the bright, rich curls, which the \nlight wind at times ruffled ; but she neither spoke, nor \nuttered any sound. Sometimes she approached her \nhead very near the lips of the corpse, as if willing to \nlisten for some faint breath that might still remain, \nbut as she drew suddenly back, the blood that rushed \nimpetuously to her head, and dyed her temples, evi\u00ac \ndenced her conviction that hope was no more. \n\nWhen Bradley entered, and beheld the scene be\u00ac \nfore him, he gazed in pity for a moment, took a seat, \nand remained some time in silence. He then knelt \nand prayed aloud. The father, and others present, \njoined in the prayer ; but the mother remained unal\u00ac \ntered in her position, and occupied entirely by the ob\u00ac \nject beside her. When the prayer was finished, the \nminister beckoned to a man, who approached with the \nlid of the coffin, and two females advanced for the \npurpose of assisting, and removing the disconsolate \nparent. Then, as if suddenly recalled to a perfect \nsense of her situation, the mother started up, and \nwith a shriek that made the blood of her hearers run \ncoldly, she threw off the women who were about to \nraise her; and who retired trembling and affrighted. \nIn the paroxysm of her despair she uttered cries that \nsank deep into the hearts of her hearers. She called \nher child by every endearing epithet ; intreating him \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n153 \n\n\nto answer, covered his face with kisses, and embraced \nthe cold body, pressing it to her bosom. Turning \nher streaming eyes towards heaven, for now the tears \nfell heavy and abundant, she exclaimed, \u2014 \u2022 \n\nu God ! God ! give me back my boy, my fair, my \nlovely child. Was he not too good to die ? The \nsweet smile never left his red lip, and all his words \nwere soft as thy own dews. William \u2014 William, I \nsay, answer me, or I will be angry. Do speak to thy \npoor mother, who loves thee better than her soul. \nGive me but one kind smile, \u2014 one, only one kiss my \nboy. Surely you love me, dear boy, answer me, in \npity. Oh my fair, my beautiful child \u2014 he cannot \u2014 he \ncannot.\u201d \n\nThe miserable woman, here, wrung her hands in \nall the bitterness of irremediable wo, and at last \novercome by her fearful paroxysms, she sank lifeless \ninto the arms of her friends, and was conveyed to her \nchamber. \n\nThe coffin was now closed, and the funeral moved \nslowly towards the church-yard. Day-light had be\u00ac \nstowed her last kiss upon the mountains, but the blush \nof delight still lived upon the brows of the noble hills. \nA mild breeze played with the foliage ; scattered the \nfragrance that it stole, and changed the light, fleecy \nclouds into various fantastic forms, as it propelled them \ngently towards the east. A deep stillness dwelt upon \nthe scene ; and as the long, silent procession entered \nthe cemetary, a feeling of quiet, and somewhat aw\u00ac \nful, melancholy impressed the minds of most of those \nwho offered the last show of regard to the dead. The \nservice had ended, the coffin was committed to the \nearth, and the rich, black mould had already fallen \nwith heavy and chilling sound upon its cover, when \nthe attention of the crowd was drawn towards a fe\u00ac \nmale, who, with a haggard countenance, and long dis\u00ac \nhevelled hair, rushed through the assembly, and ut\u00ac \ntering a wild, piercing shriek, threw herself on the \n\no 2 \n\n\n154 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\ngrave. It was the unhappy mother. On recovering \nfrom her swoon, she had broken away from her at\u00ac \ntendants, and fled madly toward the church-yard. \nWith sobs, and broken language, she implored them \nto desist ; affirmed with desperate earnestness that the \nchild still lived ; and imprecated wild and even savage \ncurses upon those she termed the destroyers of her \nboy. By every fond name that a doting mother could \nemploy, uttered with the teoderest softness, she im\u00ac \nplored her child to return, regardless of the presence \nand exhortations of those around. The scene became \ntruly shocking. At length, at the instance of Bradley, \ntwo men, taking the wretched, pitiable woman in their \narms, bore her away, her screams sounding, for many \nminutes, in the distance. As she disappeared from \nthe yard, a noise resembling a half-smothered laugh \nwas heard, and some of the spectators attracted by the \nsound, now perceived, for the first time, standing on \na hillock, that overlooked the burial ground, the figure \nof the Witch. She, however, suddenly disappeared ; \nand the crowd, warned by the darkness, dispersed, \nleaving the scene of distress silent and sad. \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n155 \n\n\nCHAP. XIII. \n\nDeath ne\u2019er presents a show for eyes polite, \n\nE\u2019en when he steals from fair and hectic maids \nThe noiseless breath. When Murder does his will, \n\nIn gore and blood he dips his bony hands \nAnd strikes the beholder dumb. \n\nAnonymous. \n\nWhen the beaver-catcher parted from Annie \nBrown and had bidden adieu to the Indian Samcset, \nhe directed his course, towards his usual haunts, but \nhe often seemed restless and uneas}\\ His feelings \nwere novel, unpleasant, and to him, difficult to be ac\u00ac \ncounted for. He was in possession of more than his \nusual comforts and trod after some absence, the paths \nin which he had hitherto found content and happi\u00ac \nness. But seldom in the humour to analize his sen\u00ac \nsations, he for some time, wandered through the \nthickets of the forest or along the banks of the stream, \nexamining his traps and occasionally, with unerring \naim, using his rifle. Still, content, which had so \nlong been the inmate of his bosom, was absent ; and \nfor some hours he pursued his usual and favourite \noccupations with impatience and a feverish dissatis- \ntion that robbed them of all rest. The old man, at \nlength, worn out and disconsolate, threw himself on \nthe bank of the babbling rivulet whose meanders he \nhad been pursuing, and as a sigh, which almost \nsounded like a groan, escaped him, he exclaimed, \nw Ay, ay, it must be that, \u2014 I could never have \ntossed about all night and never closed eyes, if it \nhad not been for that. Every leaf that the wind \nrustled, sounded like steps approaching, and the \ndamned owl that sat hooting all the night I thought \nseveral times was the wailing of a child. I \u2019ve heard \n\n\n156 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nthat evil doing brings the brave and fearful to a level. \nI \u2019m sure I \u2019ve had no rest since the poor brats were \nshut up in the pen. .Yes I will, \u2014 I \u2019ll do it and may\u00ac \nhap all will be comfortable again.\u201d \n\nAs Mike uttered the last words he sprang up, as \nif a load had been taken from his bosom, and with \nlight and rapid steps turned his course towards the \npart of the forest, where the children had been con\u00ac \nfined by the Witch. As he passed along, the ancient \nhunter began, by degrees, to regain his usual care\u00ac \nless composure. Though far from immaculate, and \nin the habit of doing deeds, which, one whose ideas \nof morality were more strict, would have accounted \ncrimes or misdemeanours of no trifling weight, his \nconscience was oppressed by the idea of the black \nand savage act, in which if not a principal, he had, at \nall events, performed the part of an accessory. He \ntrembled at the idea of murder, and such, upon re\u00ac \nflection, the deed he had assisted in, appeared to his \nimagination. He could not disguise to himself, \u2014 \nand, perhaps, now for the first time, it appeared plain \nto him, that the mental intrepidity and energy of the \nWitch had obtained a mastery over his own intellect, \nthat when in her company he could not resist. The \nidea of her supernatural power, in which he placed \nunwilling but undoubting credance, hampered him. \nWhile his natural cunning and selfishness strongly \nurged him to win and secure her good will, though, \nat the expense of personal convenience and some faint \nideas of the impropriety attending a connexion with a \nsorceress. He combated, with singular ingenuity, \nall the objections raised by conscience upon the latter \nscore ; and like many of better brains and richer for\u00ac \ntunes, became an easy convert to the lulling eloquence \nof interest or caprice. How easy to know the right \nand pursue the wrong. \n\nWhen Mike arrived at the scene of his former \ncruelty and found that the children had escaped, he \nwas evidently delighted. He rubbed his hands with \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n157 \n\n\nundissembled satisfaction and solaced himself with \nthe reflexion that the little victims were safe, and \nthat he should not have to encounter the displeasure \nof Annie, the anticipation of which, he had with \nmuch mental labour endeavoured to force from his \nthoughts. Resolved to conceal from his coadjutor \nhis determination to have rescued them from their \nperilous confinement, he turned his steps towards her \nhovel, partly impelled by curiosity to know if she \nhad discovered the escape of the little prisoners and \nsomewhat urged, though unwilling to acknowledge \nit, even to himself, by the desire to ascertain if her \nskill had devined his own intentions towards them. \nWith these feelings he approached the abode of the \nWitch. All was silent around the hut and he ar\u00ac \nrived at the door without hearing or seeing any \nthing of its mistress. His curiosity was wide awake, \nand he advanced carefully and on tip-toe towards the \nwindow, intending to learn the occupation of the hag. \nAs he was about to raise his head and look through \nthe hole that did the service of a window, he was \nalarmed by what he deemed the voice of the Witch \nand retreated with evident perturbation. Immedi\u00ac \nately all was silent again and he thought he distin\u00ac \nguished the low breathing of one that slept. Col\u00ac \nlecting his scattered courage, he once more advanced \nto the breach. Having slowly and cautiously raised \nhis head to a level with the window, he looked in \nand beheld the owner of the dwelling extended upon \nher lowly couch and apparently wrapt in deep slum\u00ac \nber. \u2014 Unlike the beings with whom she might hardly \nbe said to claim kindred, Annie, as she often turned \nnight into day and outwatched the stars, so she some\u00ac \ntimes courted repose when the sun rode high in the \nheavens. \n\n44 Can she sleep so soundly ?\u201d said Mike to him\u00ac \nself, 44 I guess there be many would like to buy the \nsecret from her. It is more than I could do last \nnight and I reckon she has more to answer for than I \n\n\n158 THE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\nhave. Bat use, they say, is second Nature and she \nmay\u2019nt mind sin now a days.\u201d \n\nThe hunter continued to gaze at her for some mi\u00ac \nnutes longer, \u2014 but his surprise at her tranquil slum\u00ac \nber soon ceased. The female became restless, and \nbegan to toss from side to side of her wretched \ncouch. Her features were contorted and her large \nbony hands were clenched in agony, while huge drops \nof perspiration rolled down her forehead. Her mouth \nquivered and for some seconds she seemed struggling \nto articulate ; but the words died on her lips and no\u00ac \nthing but a low and disgusting mutter was heard. \nAt length the paroxysm became too fearful to be borne \nin silence and the dreamer raised herself on her foul \nbed. Her face was deadly pale, \u2014 her features tor\u00ac \ntured and altered from their usual form. About her \nmouth a dark blue tinge was observable and the lips \nmoved without uttering any sound. Her hands \ngrasped the bed covering with convulsive exertion \nand her eyes, open and fixed, wore a deadly and un\u00ac \nmeaning expression that excited horror in the specta\u00ac \ntor. He watched with intense interest the being be\u00ac \nfore him. All idea of self, and dread lest he should \nbe discovered, were swallowed in the deep and pain\u00ac \nful anxiety with which he gazed upon the forbidding \nand fearful sight. He stood breathless and motion\u00ac \nless, awaiting the result of the dreadful exhibition. \nAt length the female appeared to make a violent ex\u00ac \nertion, and extending her arms seemingly to protect \nherself, she exclaimed, \n\nu Off, off, I say. It is not time and I will not go. \nI did not murder him though I hate his mother. \nTake your hot fingers from my throat or I shall choke, \noh ! oh ! oh !\u201d \n\nHere the woman sighed as if about to render her \nsoul and gasped for breath. The hunter trembled in \nevery limb, \u2014 but stood without the power of moving \nto her assistance. She now uttered a wild, long \nthriek in the extremity of helpless despair; her arm-# \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. 159 \n\nstruggled with the empty void, endeavouring to \ndefend herself ; she gritted her teeth with impotent \nrage and at length, totally exhausted, sank back upon \nher bed, silent and motionless. She lay some moments \nin this situation, till a deep groan seemed to af\u00ac \nford her relief. She drew a long breath, stretched \nher muscular limbs to their full extent and with a pale \nand haggard countenance suddenly raised herself and \nstared wildly around the apartment. She rubbed her \neyes, started up and walked across the floor, mutter\u00ac \ning to herself, \n\na I have been dreaming, \u2014 and no pleasant dreams \nhave I had. It\u2019s lucky I\u2019ve no chamber-fellow to \nlisten if I blab my secrets in my sleep, as they say the \nguilty do. Sleep has no pleasure for me. It is worse \neven than my waking hours. But I hate the blabbing \ntell-tale day. Crime\u2019s best handmaids are darkness \nand the night, and they serve her with most skill and \ndespatch. One comfort is, some of the hours of \nlight are past and I am nearer the tomb by so much \nof the clock.\u201d \n\nMike Shuck, when the Witch rose, left his station \nwith rapid and noiseless steps. He passed some dis\u00ac \ntance down the ravine in order that his approach \nmight not seem too sudden ; and to draw the atten\u00ac \ntion of Annie, who had now opened the door to \nbreathe a fresher air, he rolled a rock down the preci\u00ac \npice, whose noisy and lumbering flight quickly turned \nher gaze in that direction. He advanced, not with\u00ac \nout some agitation, and greeted her with more than \nhabitual courtesy. She returned the salutation and \nappeared rather pleased than otherwise with the visit. \nShe had not failed to remark the unpolished deference \nwhich the hunter seemed to pay her without being \nconscious of it; and she felt flattered by the offering, \nthough she despised the votary. The latter entered \nthe hut, by her invitation, and as he seated himself \ncould not avoid feeling some uneasiness when he re\u00ac \ncollected the scene he had just witnessed, and found \n\n\n160 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nhimself alone with one whom he now regarded with \nmore than former dread. Annie commenced the con\u00ac \nversation by inquiring what luck had pursued him in \nhis hunting ; and cunningly mingling a few encomiums \nupon his skill and success, soon won his attention by \na slight sacrifice to his vanity. If Mike ever ap\u00ac \npeared garrulous it was when his game became the \nsubject of conversation. He would dilate with infi\u00ac \nnite gratification to himself, and with attorney-like mi\u00ac \nnuteness, upon all the incidents of his sporting ad\u00ac \nventures. The history of the death of such a deer, \u2014 \nthe dexterity displayed in entrapping some particular \nbeaver, afforded matter for verbose digression and \nminute detail. \n\nThe Witch listened with patience, and as he paused \nafter one of his picturesque recitals, she asked if, in \npassing through the village, he had heard how Dame \nLackbrain fared after her brat\u2019s decease. The hunter \nlooked surprised but answered in the negative ; and \ninquired with some show of anxiety which of her \nchildren had died. Annie seized the subject with un\u00ac \nfeigned delight, and entered upon a particular account \nof the death, funeral and its consequences. She dwelt \nwith a flushed cheek and undissembled pleasure upon \nthe scene in the grave-yard ; and too much engrossed, \nby her own feelings, to notice the evident uneasiness \nand disgust with which Mike attended to her recital, \nshe went on to say, \n\nu It was a cheering sight to watch the scarlet pride \nrush into the church-yard and scamper towards the \ngrave, like a cur with crackers at his tail. She howled \nand shook her hands till the parson in his tawny coat \nand the assembled croud fairly looked pale as they \ngazed. I drank a full draught of revenge. \u2014 and that \nis a luxury the poor seldom taste. Do ye know the \nflavour of the cordial, hunter? If you have never \ndrank of that cup, you know little of worldly plea\u00ac \nsure.\u201d \n\n\u201c I have not often thirsted for the draught,\u201d said \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n161 \n\n\nMike, \u201c But Goody Brown what think ye of the \ndeath of that boy ? It\u2019s a had business, \u2014 it has wor\u00ac \nried me more than a winter\u2019s storm or bad luck in the \ntraps for a whole season. But you remember I al\u00ac \nways was against shutting the poor infants in the \ndamned pen, and only consented, as it were, in silence \nand because you would have your own way.\u201d \n\nThe hunter rose in evident discomposure and \nwalking across the hut looked out at the door. The \nhag watched him with a searching and malicious \nlook ; shook her head and muttered in a tone too low \nto reach his ears. \n\n\u201cAll men\u2019s faces are true whatever, their hands \nmay be. They tell shrewd tales, at times, to those \nwho know how to read them. I can peruse as plain \na book as that at midnight. He seems a hot friend, \nsuddenly cooling. Hang a king-fisher in the air by \nthe neck and the bill will tell which way the wind \nblows. The shallow fool writes on his brow what his \nheart would fain keep close and hidden ; but I\u2019ll be \ntoo cunning fora brainless woodman.\u201d \n\n\u201c Did you ever see a spirit in your dreams, Annie \nsaid Mike, turning and awaiting her answer with \nmuch apparent interest. \n\n\u201c Yes \u2014 often,\u201d said the other. \n\n\u201c I saw one last night \u2014 or I never saw a beaver,\u20195 \nexclaimed the hunter. \u201c How did it seem to you ? \nWhat was the thing like ? It\u2019s a fearful sight for sar- \ntain.\u201d \n\n\u201cOh!\u201d said the other, \u201cit\u2019s made just as it\u2019s \nshaped, \u2014 it is as broad as it hath breadth, \u2014 is merely \nas high as it is, \u2014 moves with its own organs, \u2014 and \nmoreover is of its own colour besides.\u201d \n\n\u201cThat is just as it appeared to me,\u201d rejoined Mike, \n\u201c and it d meed before my eyes all night, \u2014 keeping me \nfrom sleep and holding me uneasy, as it were. I am \nright glad I never consented to your cramming the little \nones in that hole on the mountain. You remember I \nalways was against it, \u2014 I\u2019ll take my oath to that.\u201d \n\np \n\n\n162 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n\u201c You\u2019ll take your oath to a lie then,\u201d muttered \nAnnie, to herself. \u201c However, I\u2019ll wait till he has \ndined and filled his veins ; his blood is cold now, but \nwhen his paunch is stuffed he may be better imposed \non.\u201d \n\nThe Witch turned to a corner of the hovel and \nuncovering a basket produced some cold meats and \nbread, which she spread upon the huge log that \nserved the purpose of a table. At the side of this \ncollation she placed a bottle of spirits, and then, with \nall her courtesy, invited her visiter to join in the re\u00ac \npast. To do this thfe hunter needed no second re\u00ac \nquest. He ate voraciously and, by the advice of his \nentertainer, had recourse more than once to the \nbrandy. He became loquacious and bolder in the \nexpression of his opinions. Annie attempted with \nmuch art to win him to her way of thinking, \u2014 but he \nremained obstinate and openly charged her with the \ndeath of the child. The woman grew evidently ex\u00ac \nasperated at finding that all her art had proved una\u00ac \nvailing in making him a convert to her creed. Find\u00ac \ning persuasion and cajolery had lost their usual pow\u00ac \ner, she used threats with an audacity peculiar to her\u00ac \nself ; but Mike had become equally fearless from his \ndeep potations and heard her stormy revilings with an \nindifference that a few hours before he would have \ndeemed impossible. In answer to one of her abusive \nepithets he had even ventured to cast a term of re\u00ac \nproach in her own teeth. The beldame became \nalmost insane with passion ; her eyes rolled and the \nlivid hue of her lip and cheek indicated the fury of \nher wrath. She strode to the door and pressed her \nhand upon her forehead, which was swelled and \ndrawn into deep furrows by the contraction of her \nheavy brows. As she passed across the floor her \nfoot struck against something that lay on the earth. \nShe uttered a deep and horrid oath as she turned to \nascertain the cause of her stumbling ; but as her eye \ncaught the object of her execration, she started and \nher face suddenly flushed. \n\n\nTHE WITCH OP NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n163 \n\n\nIt tells me what to do,5\u2019 said she, \u201c and I\u2019ll turn \nno deaf ear to such advice. He is old and besotted \nwith the drink, \u2014 he cannot make much resistance,\u2014 \nand besides the deed is necessary for my own safety. \nSelf-preservation is the first feeling of brute and man. \nIf I do not, \u2014 he will betray me, and the gallows and \nI will be shortly acquainted. Yes, \u2014 yes , \u2014 I\u2019ll do it, \n\u2014I\u2019ll do it.\u201d \n\nMike Shuck, during the foregoing speech, which \nwas uttered aside, had remained seated on the stool, \nwith his back turned towards Annie Brown, and bore \nthe appearance of one, who, if not stupified by liquor, \nwas at least rendered careless, and almost indifferent \nto what passed around him. The Witch fixed her eye \nupon him with a look of indescribable hatred, \u2014 stood \nfor a moment motionless, then suddenly seized a large \nknife that lay on the earthen floor, and with the rapi\u00ac \ndity of lightning, plunged it into the bosom of the \nhunter. The latter started, and uttered a cry of hor\u00ac \nror ; but when he perceived the blow was about to be \nrepeated, rushed furiously upon the beldame, strug\u00ac \ngling violently to obtain the weapon. The blood from \na long wound in his breast flowed copiously, and he \nseemed to suffer much pain. The Witch was strong, \nuncommonly muscular, and stood as she, at length, \nregained the use of her arm, on the point of striking \nanother blow with the knife, which in all probability \nwould end the scuffle. As she raised her arm with \na desperate energy, and drew back a step to make her \nstroke the surer, her foot slipped in the clotted blood, \nand as she, by a violent effort, recovered her footing, \nthe knife flew from her grasp, and fell at some dis\u00ac \ntance from the combatants. The struggle now become \nmore dreadful than before. Hope flashed across the \nmind of the old huntsman, and the hag was rendered \nmore furious by disappointment, and the opposition \nshe encountered. Both had hitherto remained silent, \nand they now contested with the fearful bitterness of \nhate and revenge, well aware that life was to be the \n\n\n164 \n\n\nTHE WITCII OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nprize of the victor. The old man\u2019s usual activity \nand strength were evidently much lessened by his \ndebauch, and the loss of blood which continued to \ntrickle in large heavy drops from his neck and breast, \nand it became apparent that unless aid approached, \nhis situation would speedily become desperate. Aware \nof the decrease in his strength, and alarmed at his pe\u00ac \nrilous state, he uttered several loud, piercing, shrieks, \nwhich were echoed distinctly and audibly from rock \nto rock, and died away in the distant valley. The \nWitch exhibited evident alarm, and had become \nbreathless, and almost exhausted by her desperate ex\u00ac \nertions. \n\nThey had now separated, and stood gazing at each \nother panting with rage and exhaustion. Mike re\u00ac \nnewed his shouts for assistance, and made the wood \nring with his cries ; but he was evidently sinking with \npain and fatigue, and exhibited a countenance ghastly \nand horrible in the extreme. The Witch having re\u00ac \ngained some breath, suddenly rushed upon the ex\u00ac \nhausted old man, and seizing him with both hands by \nthe throat, held him firmly, notwithstanding all his \nstruggles, until black in the face, and with his eyes \nstarting from his front he sunk upon his floor. She \nstill continued to clench his throat, and setting her \nknees upon his breast, exclaimed between her closed \nteeth - \n\nu Die \u2014 die, hound ! Will ye never yield your \ncursed breath ? He bleeds like a hog. \u2014 I neverthought \nthe gray-beard held such streams of blood. I am \nwet with the red river, and the floor is dyed with the \nclotted offal. But ye\u2019ll shed no more hunter, if that \ncan add to your comfort. A pestilence light upon your \ncarrion remains. An ugly carcase ye make,\u201d said she, \nspurning the body with her f oot. \n\nShe looked stedfastly at the breathless and disgust\u00ac \ning corpse, as she turned it with her heel. Then sud\u00ac \ndenly staring round her, and observing that the long \ncrimson rays of the sinking sun streamed in at the \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n165 \n\n\nwindow, and mingled their bright and glorious hues \nwith the foul and clotted masses of blood that lay \nupon the earth, she started, and seemed, for the first \ntime, aware of the peril of her situation. With that \nobliquity of reasoning which often guides the guilty, \nshe now resolved to fly for having committed the \nvery deed, which she had deemed would render a \nflight unnecessary. She formed a light bundle of \nsuch of her treasures as she intended to bear with \nher, and quitting the hovel, began to ascend the hill \nwith long and rapid steps. She directed her course \ntowards one of the nearest Indian villages ; deter\u00ac \nmined to seek refuge from justice with the tribe of \nthe chief Samoset, whose release from prison she had \nso lately effected. Having walked for some hours, till \nextreme fatigue obliged her to halt ; she passed the \nnight in the forest under the shelter of a rock, and the \nnext morning gained the settlement of the savages, \nwhere she received welcome and refreshment. \n\nOn the evening of the funeral, the appearance and \nconduct of Annie Brown in the vicinity of the church\u00ac \nyard had not passed unnoticed. Some unfavourable \nsuspicions had been excited ; and as her character was \nby no means, in general, such as to allay them, seve\u00ac \nral of the villagers had determined to secure and have \nher examined. With this intention, on the morning \nfollowing the perpetration of the crime just described, \na party revisited her dwelling, and in lieu of its usual \ninhabitants, found the melancholy and repulsive re\u00ac \nmains of the poor beaver-catcher. The trembling \nand astonished spectators gazed with horror upon the \nspectacle before them, and suspicion immediately \nfixed upon the Writch, as the perpetrator of the black \nand cruel deed. They found the face of the old man \npale, wan, and bloodless, as if the spring of life had \nat length run dry. His eye- balls, half-thrust from \ntheir sockets, gave an expression to his countenance \nthat made the lookers-on shudder, and their blood to \n.i' run cold. His shaggy and matted hair was torn and \n\nP 2 \n\n\n\\ 66 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nscattered over the floor, and his long, venerable, white \nbeard was disordered, and plucked in hand-fulls by \nthe roots. His nostrils were widely stretched, as if \nhe had gasped convulsively for breath, while his si\u00ac \nnewy and bony fingers were displayed and crooked as \nif, in the last agony, he had grasped the earth, upon \nwhich the deep indenting of his nails showed plainly \nevident. \n\nHis body was conveyed to the village, and a party \nof the inhabitants immediately set out in pursuit of \nthe murderess. But their search was ineffectual ; the \ncriminal had escaped beyond their reach, and they re\u00ac \nturned without success. \n\n\nTHE WITCH OP NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n167 \n\n\nCHAPTER XIV. \n\n\nBattle, battle is the word, my comrades, \n\nAnd th\u2019 encounter will be such as suits not \nQuaking limbs, \u2014 pale cheeks and tender sinews. \n\nThe tissued banner with its gorgeous dyes, \n\nThat waves and flaunts upon the fearful wind; \n\nThe warlike swellings of the martial band \nOft make a coward soul throw off its fears \nAnd act the soldier: \u2014 But the peril now \nIs fierce and manlike, \u2014 counting no such aids. \n\nAnonymous. \n\nAfter the Indian Samoset\u2019s escape from prison, \nhe pursued the route leading to the abode of his tribe, \nwith the impatience and activity of one who, after a \nlong and cruel absence, moves towards home. The \npowerful magic that dwells within that little word, \nwitches the rude mind of the unmannered savage, \nwith a spell as potent as that with which it enchants \nthe rich intellect of the sage or the brilliant fancy of \nthe poetic dreamer. The frozen seas of the dwarfish \nLaplander and the burning night-wind of the thirsting \nArab would not be bartered by them for the delicious \nscenes of verdant Greece or the soft voluptuousness \nof Italian breezes. Heaven has kindly sown the \nfeeling in the heart of man ; and home and country \nare rooted in its core. \n\nWhen the savage arrived at the village of his tribe, \nhe was received as one from the dead. His country\u00ac \nmen had obtained intelligence of his intended crime, \nhis capture and imprisonment ; and doubting not that \ndeath would be the punishment inflicted on him, they \nhad regarded the chief as lost. His return was hailed \nas a triumph and thirst for revenge was the feeling \nthat reigned paramount in every bosom. The sachem \nwas not of a temper to quench the fire that was al- \n\n\n168 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nready in a blaze. Possessing an uncommon share of \nthe rude eloquence of his nation, joined to a fierce \nand undaunted courage, he was regarded by his coun\u00ac \ntrymen with reverence and fear. He had obtained \nthe title of Prophet; and by sagacity and cunning \noften induced the ignorant and superstitious savages \nto yield to him the deference and obedience, held to \nbe due to the favourite of their gods. Runners, se\u00ac \nlected from the young and active warriors, were de\u00ac \nspatched to the neighbouring sachems, summoning \nthem to attend a grand council ; and in the interim, \npreparations were made for striking a sudden and \nheavy blow on the settlements of the Whites. \n\nThe council, composed of the most venerable and \nintrepid sachems, was convened ; and the elder mem\u00ac \nbers addressing the assembly in the wild and figura\u00ac \ntive eloquence of their country, excited the warriors \nto a fierce and bloody inroad upon the whites, in \nwhich after the fashion of their warfare, neither age \nnor sex was to be spared. The younger hearers lis\u00ac \ntened with growing excitement to the impassioned \nharangues of the speakers. But the chief Samoset, \nwho had with deep sagacity watched the workings of \ntheir minds, seized an opportune moment and descri\u00ac \nbing in bold and fiery terms the injuries and insults \ncommitted by the whites upon the red men, roused \nthem to a pitch of enthusiasm bordering upon insanity. \nThey sprang from their seats and clashed their arms. \nA low, wild murmur ran through the assembly. \u2014 and \nin the sparkling eyes and heightened colour of their \ncomplexions might be read the thirst for blood and \nhavock roused by the subtle and heated declamation \nof the vindictive prophet. 'The scene was a fine \nstudy for a painter. The noble forms and statue-like \nattitude of the listeners ; the deep, unwaking attention \nwith which they hung upon the prophet\u2019s words : the \nrude, but beautiful scenery that surrounded the crowd ; \nand the wild, yet graceful action of the orator com- \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. 169 \n\nbined to create a deep and long-remembered interest. \nThe vote was unanimous in favour of war, the coun\u00ac \ncil broke up and the chiefs separated to prepare for \nthe final meeting, previous to the attack, the time and \nplace of which were already specified. \n\nOn the day of Samoset\u2019s escape from prison, his \ndeparture had been discovered, but it was too late for \npursuit ; the Indian had gained the mountains and his \nretreat was effectually covered. The character of the \nsavages and the influence the sachem was known to \nexercise over his tribe, excited well-grounded suspi\u00ac \ncions that an attempt at revenge would speedily fol\u00ac \nlow his return to his countrymen. The white inhabi\u00ac \ntants had lived long enough in the neighbourhood of \nthe Indians to be aware of their treacherous and re\u00ac \nvengeful character ; and foreseeing that an attack \n\u25a0would propably follow the enlargement of the chief, \ntook measures to repel the expected invasion and har- \nrying. \n\nThe two friends Bradley and Chesterley had, in \nformer wars or inroads, been distinguished alike for \ntheir conduct and courage ; and on the present emer\u00ac \ngency were appointed to command the armed corps \nof forty or fifty men, who prepared to watch and pre\u00ac \nvent the intended barbarities of their red neighbours. \nThe hardy and intrepid individuals composing this \nforce were accustomed to the mode of Indian war\u00ac \nfare ; and combining the active and fearless character \nof hunters with some show of discipline, were es\u00ac \nteemed a force amply sufficient to encounter and mas\u00ac \nter any body though much superior in point of num\u00ac \nber, which their enemies could bring against them. \nHaving sent scouts in different directions to watch the \nmotions of the savages and appointed a place of ren\u00ac \ndezvous in case of alarm, the inhabitants of the village \nawaited, without much anxiety, the approach of their \nadversaries, whom, when aware of their attack, they \nseldom dreaded. \n\n\n1 70 \n\n\nTHE WITCII OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nThe night, succeeding the morning on which these \nuseful precautions had been taken, was clear and \nbeautiful. The moon had not yet 4 filled her horns,' \nbut watched above the hills in her pure and quiet \nloveliness, now and then veiled by a passing cloud, \nwhose edges she tinged with her pale, brilliant hues, as \nthe light vapour glided gracefully over her face. It \nwas about the hour of midnight, when the inhabitants \nof the hamlet were roused by the distant report of a \nrifle, followed in close succession by the noise of se\u00ac \nveral others. The alarm was quickly spread and the \narmed men collecting at the appointed spot, dis\u00ac \ncovered the long, red light of the beacon-fire, on the \nmountain, ascending, amid a cloud of black smoke, \nfar above the tops of the adjacent trees. In a few \nminutes, a man carrying a rifle, was seen by the light \nof the flames swiftly flying down the side of the hill \nand leaping with fearless and almost incredible agility \nfrom rock to rock, a fall from any of which, had he \nmissed his footing, would have been followed by in\u00ac \nevitable destruction. As he several times appeared \nentirely uncovered by the trees and under-wood, a \nshot was fired from the hill, but it seemed without \neffect, for he continued his route towards the village, \nwith undiminished speed and finally reached the spot, \nwhere the armed inhabitants had collected. He proved \nto be, as was expected, the scout who had been watch\u00ac \ning on the mountain. The brave and active young \nman had discovered the approach of the savages ; fled \nwithout noise to the beacon which he had fired, and \nimpelled by his ardent courage, determined before he \nfled to discharge his rifle at an Indian. With this \nintention he remained at the brink of a precipice \nmore than twenty feet in height, until the file of war\u00ac \nriors was sufficiently near to enable him to shoot with \neffect. rI aking deliberate aim, he fired and saw the \nIndian in advance fall. Plunging immediately down \nthe height, he fled towards the village, and though \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n171 \n\n\nas he ran, nearly a dozen shots were discharged at \nhim, he escaped unhurt, one of the balls having passed \nthrough his hat and another striking on his powder- \nhorn had glanced without doing harm. \n\nOn being interrogated by Bradley, the man in\u00ac \nformed him, that, as well as he could judge by the \nlight of the moon, the savages amounted in number \nto a hundred. Many of them were armed with \nrifles or muskets, \u2014 the rest with spears, bows and \narrows and large knotted clubs. In the midst of \nthe band he had observed a female ; and from her \nair and dress, he decided it could be no other than \nthe Witch Annie Brown, who had no doubt, fled for \nprotection to the Indians, whom, she now, in the spi\u00ac \nrit of hatred and revenge, accompanied on their ex\u00ac \npedition in search of blood and plunder. The scout, \nobserved that, at one moment he had decided to aim \nhis rifle at her, \u2014 but half-believing that she held a \ncharmed life and that the shot would be thrown away, \nhe determined, after a moment of hesitation, to sacri\u00ac \nfice an Indian. \n\nEdward, having formed his men, moved some dis\u00ac \ntance from the village towards the hills ; but prudence \ndictating that anv advance into the forest, during the \nnight, would be useless and dangerous, and no signs \nof the enemy appearing, the men slept on their arms, \nin the position they occupied, till the approach of day\u00ac \nlight. A thick and heavy dew had fallen during the \nnight, and in the morning as soon as the rays of the \nsun began to clear away the clouds of fog, the com\u00ac \npany commenced its march through the forest in pur\u00ac \nsuit of the enemy. They marched some distance \nthrough the woods, in three divisions, by files, the \nright commanded by Edward, the left by Chesterly \nand the centre led by Oliver Smith, an old and intre\u00ac \npid campaigner. In this order they proceeded for \nsome distance, without discovering any signs of the \nenemy. It soon became necessary, however, to change \n\n\n172 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nthe order of march. A thick and impervious growth \nof shrubs and briars had sprung up, where, some \nyears before, the land had been partially cleared and \nthe large trees felled. The men were formed into \none body, led by young Bradley ; while his friend \nCharles brought up the rear. The scenery around \nwas dark and savage in the extreme. The rocky and \ndifficult ground upon which they marched was sur\u00ac \nrounded entirely by the black and silent forest, whose \nrecesses, from a distance, looked gloomy and fearful. \nThey continued their course for some time through \nthe thicket and were about entering the forest, when \na loud and horrid yell burst from the wood, followed \nby a discharge of fire-arms and arrows. Bradley \nwith coolness and intrepidity, halted his men and pre\u00ac \npared to resist the sudden attack. The Indians \nconsiderably more numerous than their adversaries, \nrushed impetuously forward, and the battle, princi\u00ac \npally fought man to man, became bloody and obsti\u00ac \nnate. The whites, animated bv the exhortations and \nexample of their officers, who at once performed the \npart of soldiers and commanders, fought with great \nbravery ; sometimes in bodies of several, in open \nview ; and again individually, under cover, taking \naim from behind the trunks of trees, and continuing \nthe combat in a manner independent of each other. \nThe fiery temper of Chesterly impelled him while in \npursuit of a savage, whom he had already wounded, \nto advance in front of his own men and within a very \nshort distance of a large rock, where a number of In\u00ac \ndians had posted themselves. A shower of arrows \nand two or three bullets, flying very near him, warned \nhim of his danger ; and retreating for protection to \na large tree, his situation was discovered and a party \nof his men moved to his rescue. Placing himself at \ntheir head, he ran forward to dislodge the enemy from \nthe rock and the conflict again became general. A \ntall and athletic savage, painted and decorated like a \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW' ENGLAND* 173 \n\nchief, and well armed, sprang from the rock as the \nsoldiers advanced and discharging his rifle, the ball, \nfrom which, wounded Charles slightly in the shoulder, \nrushed upon him with his tomahawk. As he ap\u00ac \nproached, Chesterly fired, and the Indian, by a con\u00ac \nvulsive start, announced that he was struck, but still \ncontinued with a fierce and determined countenance \nto advance. When within a few paces he threw his \ntomahawk, but his antagonist by a skillful motion of the \nbody avoided the blow, and drawing his sword, for \nhis rifle was unloaded, sprang on the chief, who armed \nwith a long hunting knife met him with equal fury. \nThe combat became close and bloody. Several \nwounds were given and received, \u2014 though the short\u00ac \nness of the savage\u2019s weapon prevented him from \ndealing a mortal blow. He became wrought to mad\u00ac \nness as he was several times baffled by the skill of \nChesterly ; and covered with blood which now flowed \nin a stream from a wound in his breast caused by the \nrifle ball, he closed suddenly with his antagonist, by \na furious exertion threw him to the ground and seated \nhimself on his breast. Panting with rage and fatigue, \nhe for a moment fixed his eyes upon Charles with an \nexpression of deadly hatred and disgust. But sud\u00ac \ndenly his face became convulsed, \u2014 his eye assumed \na glassy and dim appearance, and he raised his arm \nto strike the knife into the heart of his foe. The \nsituation of the latter was hopeless, but he had pre\u00ac \nserved his spirit unshaken and waited his expected \ndeath with fortitude. As the chief drew back to \ninflict the anticipated blow, his adversary thought he \nobserved a tremor in his arm .hope flashed across \nhis mind for an instant and with the exertion of de\u00ac \nspair, he raised himself from the ground, seized the \nhand of the Indian and drove the weapon to his heart* \nThe latter gave a deep sigh, \u2014 extended his arm as if \nto clutch his enemy with the gripe of death and co- \n' vered with gore, sunk lifeless on the earth. Drenched \n\nQ* \n\n\n174 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nwith the blood of his victim and feeble and almost \nfainting from the loss of his own, Chesterly had barely \nstrength to raise himself and lean against the trunk \nof a tree. Upon looking at the dead body before him \nhe recognized, for the first time, the features of the \nSachem Samoset. The expression of intense hatred \nand antipathy still dwelt upon the face, and Charles \nnow readily accounted for the desperate and blind \nfury, exercised by the unsuccessful against the fa\u00ac \nvoured lover. \n\nThe spot upon which the sanguinary fray had been \nexhibited was now silent and deserted. A number \nof dead and dying lay within a few paces, but the \nnoise and turmoil of the battle now roared at a dis\u00ac \ntance. The Indians, pressed and unable to stand the \nattack of their opponents had retired farther into the \nrecesses of the forest ; and by the victors they were \nimpetuously followed. Becoming faint and exhausted \nby the flow of blood from his wounds, which, though \nnot dangerous, now began to feel sore and painful, \nthe young soldier tore his cravat into bandages and \ndressing his hurts with all the skill his situation would \npermit, lay quietly down at the foot of a large oak, \nawaiting the issue of the battle. \n\nEdward Bradley, from the commencement of the \nfight, had conducted with an intrepidity and skill, be\u00ac \nyond his years and experience. Ardent but cool, he \nhad not, like his fiery friend, forgotten the leader in \nthe soldier. He had remedied many mishaps, \u2014 en\u00ac \ncouraged the brave and poured new vigour into the \ndrooping and wavering among his companions. In \nthe early part of the conflict he had more than once \npassed within the reach of Samoset, but the savage \nappeared to avoid an encounter and evidently ne\u00ac \nglected many opportunities of striking at the brother \nof Agnts. Whilst directing and heading a party of \nhis men who were advancing to drive a number of \nthe Indians from a situation where they annoyed and \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n175 \n\n\nat the same time remained protected from their op\u00ac \nponents, Edward\u2019s eye had been attracted by the \nvoice and action of an individual whose appearance \nforcibly caught his attention. The person appeared \nto be a female, who with violent and animated ges\u00ac \ntures seemed in the act of inspiring new courage* into \na party of the savages, who had retreated and were \nevidently unwilling again to face their adversaries. \nHer action was singularly wild and uncommon, and at \nthe same time had an air of grace and majesty that \nbelongs to superior intellect and a fearless spirit. It \nseemed that her rhetoric was not successful, for with \nan incensed and violent manner she seized a rifle from \none of the recreant Indians and striking a blow which \nfelled the owner, she called to the rest and rushed \nherself, towards a body of the whites, who were en\u00ac \ngaged in a distant part of the wood. The red war\u00ac \nriors appeared struck with the conduct of the female, \nand raising a loud and horrible yell followed her to \nthe attack. They were, however, met by the whites \nwho poured upon them a deadly fire and they fled \nin confusion, followed, though reluctantly, by the wo\u00ac \nman who retired slowly and indignantly from the \nfight. \n\nThis desultory combat had lasted some hours and \nthough the whites had lost many of 'their men, the \nloss of their enemies had been much more heavy and \nthe latter seemed inclined to put an end to the conflict \nand retire farther into the forest. By the exhortation \nand example of some of the braver chiefs, however, \nthey continued to fight, at times, with fury and ob\u00ac \nstinacy. Edward had been actively employed, in all \nparts of the field of battle, and in more than one per\u00ac \nsonal encounter, had come oft' with brilliant and well- \nearned success. Having discharged his fusee several \ntimes, he had presented it at a savage, who appeared \nto have singled him out from his companions and was \nv pressing him with determined ferocity. The muzzle \n\n\n176 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nwas pressed against the breast of the Indian, \u2014 Ed\u00ac \nward pulled the trigger, but the fuzee missed fire. \nThe warrior, active and athletic, availing himself of \nthe indefensible attitude of his opponent, uttered a \nloud and piercing yell or war-whoop, rushed forward \nwith his upraised hatchet, compelled him to surren\u00ac \nder, and having stripped him of his arms, hurried \nsome distance into the wood, where he bound him to \na tree and then returned to the fight. \n\nThe situation of the prisoner, sufficiently torment\u00ac \ning at first, soon became still more terrible. Con\u00ac \nstantly changing ground, from various causes, the \nscene of the battle now approached the part of the \nforest where Bradley stood bound without the possi\u00ac \nbility of escape. He at length found himself placed \ndirectly between the fire of the two parties. Fancy \ncan scarcely portray a more distressful and danger\u00ac \nous situation. Incapable of motion in his body, his \nlimbs, or even his head, he remained in moment\u00ac \nary expectation of death. The bullets flew inces\u00ac \nsantly from each side ; many buried themselves in \nthe bark of the tree to which he was bound, and some \ntore rents in his clothes, inflicting slight wounds, the \nblood from which, however trickled down his limbs \nand he soon found that the red stream ran over the \ntops of his shoes. Resigning himself with the forti\u00ac \ntude of a strong, proud and excited mind, he awaited \nwith impatience some ball that would, at once end his \nlife and the mortifying, harassing feelings to which \nhis deplorable situation made him the prey. While, \nthe victim of sensations so far from being enviable, \nEdward stood without a gleam of hope, the battle \nappeared for a moment to be in favour of the Indians. \nThe whites changed their position and were followed \nby their red foes. It was during this interval of time \nthat a young savage approaching the prisoner, began \nto amuse himself in a novel and extraordinary man\u00ac \nner. He found Bradley lashed to the tree and might \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. 177 \n\nwith a single blow of his tomahawk , have dispatched \nhim to a different abode. But he was a humourist \nand preferred exciting the terror of his victim to spill\u00ac \ning his blood. He began by hurling his hatchet at \nthe head of the prisoner and making it strike the tree \nwithin a few inches of his face. In this manner he \ncontinued to amuse himself, exhibiting his admirable \nskill by coming nearer every stroke to the head of the \nunfortunate captive, and several times buried the mur\u00ac \nderous tomahawk within a hair\u2019s breadth of the brains \nof his miserable enemy. The Indian-, at length, de\u00ac \nsisted from his cruel sport and turned his course in a \ndirection towards the spot where the battle now was \nfought, the sounds of which became more faint and \nevidently proceeded from a considerable distance. In \na short time, Edward perceived several savages flying \nand concluded that victory had, eventually, turned in \nfavour of his own party. This conviction was in a \nfew moments made stronger by the arrival of his cap- \ntor, who, without speaking, unbound his prisoner and \nthen commanding him to follow, commenced a rapid \nmarch through the forest. Having reached a large \nparty of fugitive savages, Bradley was stripped of \nhis coat, vest, stockings and shoes ; loaded with as \nmany of the packs of the wounded as could be piled \nupon his shoulders ; after which being strongly pin\u00ac \nioned, his wrists were bound with a cord drawn as \ntightly as the strength of two men could effect. The \nthoughts that passed across his mind were sombre and \nmelancholy. He wished for death and yet, now that \nthe desired goal appeared in sight, the idea and hope \nof escape irresistably obtruded itself. He was weary \nof his sufferings, of the world, and of himself, \u2014 still \na release from his present torments played about his \nfancy as pregnant with delight that could never die. \nA stern and invincible pride, which might have been \ntermed his master passion, upheld him amid his tor\u00ac \nments j and in the deepest agony of his body, the \n\n2 \n\n\n178 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OP NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nidea that a smile of scorn still lived upon his lip and \nbraved his enemies, poured balm upon his bleeding \nwounds. \n\nAfter he had marched, with these feelings for many \nlong and tedious miles, the Indians worn out with fa\u00ac \ntigue, halted for repose. His hands had now be\u00ac \ncome dreadfully swoln by the ligatures, \u2014 his feet were \ntom and bleeding, and the anguish he experienced as \nthe cold evening wind blew upon his sore wounds \ndrove him to desparation. He was sinking under the \nheavy burthen which bent him down with its weight, \nand rendered frantic by the acute pains that shot \nthrough all his limbs, he implored his captors that \nthey would in mercy use the tomahawk, \u2014 or release \nhis hands. At this moment the Indian who had cap\u00ac \ntured him came towards him, \u2014 took some of the \npacks from his shoulders, unbound his tortured wrists \nand threw him a pair of old mocasins. The march \nor retreat was soon resumed. Driving Edward be\u00ac \nfore them the savages pursued their route to the spot, \ndestined for their night\u2019s encampment, where a \nscene of horror, far more appalling than any he had \nyet witnessed awaited the unfortunate captive. \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n179 \n\n\nCHAPTER XV. \n\nDeep love though unrequited seldom dies, \n\nIn young maids\u2019 hearts it lies like hidden founts \nIn silent rocks : \u2014 and ere it greets the eye \nThe dwelling where it weeping lives is riven. \n\nAnonymous. \n\nIt was some hours after sunset when the party \narrived at the spot destined for the night\u2019s repose. \nIt lay in a narrow, silent valley, carpeted with the \nmost refreshing verdure, and surrounded on all sides \nbut one by steep and rocky heights. On the declivi\u00ac \nties of the hills and the surface of the rich, level land \nrose a number of beautiful and majestic poplars, \nwhose tall and gigantic stems swelled in proud and \ngraceful dignity far above the neighbouring trees. \nFrom a cleft rock in the side of a hill rushed a pure \nand powerful spring, which after leaping, babbling and \nfrothing over the impediments in its course, gained \nthe vale, where broken into a hundred rillets it lavished \nits freshness over the meadow, wetting to fertility. \nThe surface of the heights was covered with hemlock \nand spruce, whose foliage seemed edged with silver \nas the moon, from a cloudless sky, shone upon the \nlovely and quiet aspect of the scene. The lonely \nWhip-poor-will, which the Indians regard with super\u00ac \nstitious veneration, pursued her nightly flight in rapid \nand varying circles ; uttering her short, melancholy \ncry as she darted through the air and awakening \nideas of gloom and despondency. \n\nWhen the savages reached the valley, fatigued and \nexhausted they threw themselves on the ground by \nthe side of the spring. But the spirit of revenge and \nbarbarity seemed, in a few moments, to lend them \nnew strength. The wretched captive, tortured by his \naching and bleeding wounds,\u2014 worn out and sinking \n\n\n180 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nwith fatigue and exhaustion, \u2014 and painting with the \ncolours of a vivid imagination the series of torments \nstill in store for him, laid himself in despair and an\u00ac \nguish upon the earth. His tormentors allowed him \nbut a short-lived respite. They dragged him from \nthe ground, \u2014 stripped him naked, \u2014 bound him to a \ntree and began to pile quantities of dry -wood and \nother fuel in a circle around him. Their labours \nwere accompanied with shouts and horrid yells that \nfroze the blood of their victim, who aware that en\u00ac \ntreaties and prayers for mercy would be fruitless, re\u00ac \nsigned himself to his fate with a dogged and feverish \nresolution. Their intention, apparently, was to burn \nor rather slowly roast him to death. The flames were \nkindled, and as they slowly approached the miserable \nsufferer, the Indians commenced dancing round the \nstake, uttering loud and fearful shrieks or singing, \nwith unaffected delight, their war-hymn. As the \nheat of the fire grew more intense the agonies of Ed\u00ac \nward became beyond endurance, and endeavouring, \nvainly, to find relief by shifting his body from side to \nside of the stake, \u2014 his torments drew from the spec\u00ac \ntators shouts of wild triumph and demoniac laughter, \nwhile in the delirium of their sport they ran around \nthe stake with frantic cries and gestures. Death now \nstared him in the face, with determined and fearful \naspect ; \u2014 his body was tortured, but from his mind \nthe bitterness of dissolution had past away, and no \nlingering tye bound him to life and the world, save \nthe single wish to spare his friends the pangs that \nwould follow the intelligence of his decease. He \nsummoned a desperate resolution and watched the \napproach of the flames with a cool and steady eye. \nHe even grew impatient ol their tardy creeping. But \nit was the still and horrid calm that succeeds the fe\u00ac \nver of despair, \u2014 a species of insanity into which a \nproud and powerful mind is often driven, when the \nshade of hope has disappeared. At such a moment \nthere is a freezing, icy chill strikes upon the hear^ \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. 181 \n\nwhich those who have felt it never can forget, and \nthose who have been more fortunate cannot compre\u00ac \nhend. \n\nThe Indian who had captured him, and who was, \n(it appeared,) a chief of power and reputation, had \nwatched his prisoner intently during the scene we \nhave described. The air of stern dignity or contempt \nwhich had, at last, fixed itself on the features of \nyoung Bradley, seemed to make a sudden and forci\u00ac \nble impression upon the savage. As if impelled by \nsome novel but powerful impulse, he rushed through \nthe flames that were now approaching rapidly towards \nthe stake ; scattered the faggots ; cut the bands of the \nprisoner and drew him from his perilous situation. \nThe shouts and horrid orgies of the assembly now \nceased. The Indians looked exasperated and disap\u00ac \npointed, \u2014 but as the victim was the property of his \ncaptor, \u2014 they were obliged to bear their mortification \nin silence. \n\nThe sachem addressed him with kindness, even \nwith affection ; cloathed him and gave him food and \ndrink from his own stores. Determined, however, \nnot to lose his prisoner, he took precautions for his \nsafe keeping. Deprived of their expected entertain\u00ac \nment, the savages prepared for sleep, \u2014 and the chief \ndirecting Edward to stretch himself on the ground, \nhe extended his arms to their full length and bound \neach fast to a young tree ; his legs were fastened to \ntwo saplings after the same fashion ; and afterwards \na number of slender poles were cut, which, with some \nbushes, being laid across his body from heal to head, \nhe was suffered to court repose as he might. Not \ncontented with these precautions, as many Indians as \ncould find room placed themselves on each side of the \nprisoner to preclude all attempts at escape. The \nnight, as will readily be believed, dragged her hours \ntediously and painfully away. But the mind of \nBradley, even in this tormenting and dreary situation, \nat some moments during the night, felt a ray of cheer* \n\n\n182 THE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\nfulness lend its genial warmth, and almost give birth \nto a smile as he thought on the singular and ludi\u00ac \ncrous picture presented by himself. Such are the \ncurious and incomprehensible anticks of mind, which \nsome have attempted to account for and none can \nunderstand. \n\nOn the following morning he was permitted to re\u00ac \ntain his blanket and mccasins, and to march without \nthe load of packs. He was also protected by his \nmaster from the insults of the savages. When, at \nlength, the Indians approached their village, they \nranged themselves in order, advancing in single file ; \nthe principal chief or sachem in the middle, preceded \nby the arms of the prisoner, which were borne in tri\u00ac \numph. Immediately following the chief walked Ed\u00ac \nward, held by three stout savages, and guarded on \neach side by a file of six warriors. When arrived at \nthe collection of huts, a band of old men, women and \nchildren advanced to meet them ; and after some ma\u00ac \nnoeuvres which bore a slight appearance towards reg\u00ac \nularity, they formed a circle round the warriors, sing\u00ac \ning, dancing and brandishing above their heads rattles \nmade of the tails of rattlesnakes. After having re\u00ac \npeated their dance three times, the crowd dispersed \nand Bradley was conducted by Epenovv, his new mas\u00ac \nter, to a hut and guarded by several Indians chosen \nfrom among those who had not been employed in the \nlate battle. Epenow sent him bread and venison ; \nand a kind-hearted savage whom he had once met and \nrelieved, when sick near his father\u2019s house, brought \nhim a garment of furs, which afforded protection from \nthe cold and damps of the night air. \n\nWorn out with fatigue of body, and jaded in spirit, \nBradley endeavoured to win some repose on being \nleft to himself Notwithstanding the pain of his wounds \nand the feverish state of his blood, he slept soundly \nand was awakened at an early hour in the morning by \nhis guards. They conducted him with much ceremony \nto a long hut in which they had kindled a large fire \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n183 \n\nand which was now to be the scene of a strange and \nfantastic ceremony ; by which, as they informed him, \nthey would be enabled to divine whether it was agree\u00ac \nable to the Great Spirit that he should be saved from \nthe fate of prisoners in general. Two large mats were \nspread upon the ground, upon one of which Edward \nwas placed, and the guard retired. A few moments \nafter, rushed in an Indian priest, decorated with furs \nand snake-skins, and hideously discoloured with paint \nand dyes ; who, after a number of uncouth noises and \nstrange gesticulations, drew a circle with meal around \nthe fire. Three others followed the first, and they again \nwere succeeded by the like number ; who, after they \nhad performed similar ceremonies, placed themselves \nin a line opposite to Bradley, the chief priest being \nseated in the middle. A hymn sung to a wfild and \nmournful tune, accompanied by the music of their rat\u00ac \ntles, being ended, the priest laid down five grains of \ncorn, and after a short speech deposited three more, \nwhich he continued to do until the fire became entirely \nencircled. Sticks were then laid between the divisions \nof the corn, and the incantation continued during the \nwhole day, accompanied with fasting. At night a \nplentiful feast was prepared of the best meats, and \nthey informed Edward that the circle of meal repre\u00ac \nsented their country, the circle of corn the sea-shore, \nand the sticks the land of his own ancestors ; that the \nmagic rites had proved fortunate for him, and that it \nwas determined he should live and work for the sa\u00ac \nchem, his present master. His clothes and pocket- \nbook, containing some writing, were now delivered to \nhim by Epenow, who seemed to regard with venera\u00ac \ntion, and some degree of dread the papers, which he \ncalled the speaking leaves, having himself been once \nthe bearer < f a letter, and witness to the information \nit communicated. \n\nThe chief now conducted his prisoner to his own hut, \nwhere sat his wife, and a young and beautiful girl, whom \nhe called daughter. They brought him water to wash \n\n\n184 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nhis hands, and served him with a hunch of feathers, \nas a towel ; after which they dressed his wounds with \nskill and tenderness, and having offered him food and \ndrink, rose and left him for a short time alone. Like \nthe fatigued and care-worn traveller, when he first \ndiscovers the limpid beauties of a cheerful spring \namid the hot and sandy desert, Edward thought upon \nthe soft and kindly attentions of the benevolent fe\u00ac \nmales. The elder was a tall and noble-looking wo\u00ac \nman, apparently of great strength, and of command\u00ac \ning manners. An air of dignity and condescension, \nmingled with the skill and readiness she exhibited in \nbinding his hurts. But in the younger, the wild and \nunaffected graces of the savage were coloured beauti\u00ac \nfully and strangely by a delicacy and bashfullness that \nmelted with novel and rare felicity in her manner. \nHer years could not have been more than sixteen, and \nher form, of the common height, was sculptured with \nthe true and exquisite taste of nature, in her hap\u00ac \npiest mood. A rich abundance of glossy, coal black \nhair hung in braids, far below her delicate and well- \nturned waist ; her eyes, shaded by dark and heavy \nlashes, that turned upwards, were mild and liquid ; \nand her complexion, approaching the olive, was still \nwooed bv the rose that nestled in lovely and capri\u00ac \ncious changeableness on her cheek. Her manner was \nof delicate softness, and the few sentences she ut\u00ac \ntered, in the language of the invalid, were tinged with \nthe green and woodland graces of her own idiom. No \naffected coyness dwelt in her manner, but a full, open, \nand innocent freedom, sweetly relieved by the timid \ndelicacv of her own pure thoughts, ran through all she \ndid, like a clear, unpolluted rill over green and virgin \nlands, hearing rich fertility with its waters. She was \nthe darling of her parents ; and the stern warrior, as \nhe gazed on the light and noiseless motions of her \nairy figure, seemed to sink the savage in the doting \nand admiring father. Like the female ivy, wedded \nto the ancient gigantic elm, her light and tender sprays \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n185 \n\n\nclung with close and loving fondness about the rough \nunbending trunk of the uncivilized Indian. At times, \nwith playful fondness, she covered the dark sun-burnt \ncheeks of the sachem with her light kisses, the seals of \nlove, \u2014 and he, as if changed by the talisman, became as \nsoft as the laughing and delicate being that fluttered \nabout him. As yet smiling, guileless, and pure as the \nbud of the chaste tree, the young Haneda had remained \nunknown to love and to sorrow. She sang the wild \nsongs, and joined in the active, picturesque dances of \nher country with a blythe heart, and nimble foot ; \nwhile often a fanciful and delicious archness seasoned \nher gay talk like the pungent race of a generous wine, \nor glistened in the corner of a rich black eye like \nsun-beams on the early dew. Tender and gentle- \nhearted, rather than spurn the grovelling worm, she \nturned aside ; and often wept bitter tears over the cru\u00ac \nelties of her barbarous* countrymen. In a word, she \nwas made to love and to be beloved. \n\nThe reflections of Edward, as with a powerful, but \ncloudy pencil, he drew the picture of his situation, \nand future prospects wore the dark and shadowy \ntints of some of those old, rich, and gloomy portraits \nthat win and fix the attention of the spectator with a \nforce and sombre pleasure that seems to grow by what \nit feeds on. If a flash of hope struck upon the black \nmelancholy ideas that were conjured by his fancy, \u2014 \nit was like the rare and narrow touches of light in the \npictures, only serving to make the dark and obscure \nmasses of shade more distinct. His temperament \nthoughtful and sad at all times, led him to dwell upon \nthe frowning, rather than the smiling hues, and he \nnow looked forward towards the future, if not with \ndespondence, at least with little hope. His wounds \nand bruises, which till now he had somewhat disre\u00ac \ngarded, began to give acute and unceasing pain. His \nskin became hot and parched, and the unerring symp\u00ac \ntoms of fever already crept through his swelled and \naching veins. Weak and trembling, he was forced to \n\n\n186 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nlie down on the skins which covered a corner of the \nhut ; and when, after the absence of an hour, the two \nfemales, and the chief returned, was tormented with \nthe thirst and pains of a raging fever. The women \nwhen they approached, gazed on his flushed cheek \nand inflamed eye, and watched the involuntary start\u00ac \ning and motion of his limbs, looked distressed and pi\u00ac \ntiful. They addressed the sachem, pointing to the \nprisoner, and appeared deeply and unaffectedly inte\u00ac \nrested in his situation. The Indian gazed for a mo\u00ac \nment with a stern and savage air at the suffering man ; \nbut his daughter, gliding towards him, gently placed \nher two hands on his shoulders, and looking wistfully \nin his face, spoke to him in their own tongue ; he soft\u00ac \nened, smiled, and patting her on the head, nodded as\u00ac \nsent. She fondled on the warrior for a moment with \ndelight, kissed his cheek, and as he left the hut, ad\u00ac \nvanced towards Bradley. \n\n\u201c We will nurse the faint and wounded whitv man,\u201d \nsaid the blushing and artless girl. u When he has \ndrunk of the Indian cup he will be strong again, and \nbound like the wild deer, or like laughing Haneda, \nwhen she flies through the green prairie, following \nthe light fawn.\u201d She took his hand, and placing her \nown on his hot and throbbing temples, she started as \nshe turned, and motioned to her mother to advance, \nand learn the state of the invalid. The matron touch\u00ac \ned his heated skin, and directing her daughter, by a \ngesture, to remain, she left the apartment, apparently \nfor the purpose of preparing relief for the sufferer. \n\nWhen left alone with Edward, the pretty Haneda \nseemed to feel no awkward embarrassment. With \nlight and fairy steps she hovered about his lowly \ncouch ; placed the skins in the best form to afford him \nease ; and at length seating herself on the earth, she \ngently laid his head upon her lap, and commenced \nchafing his swoln and burning temples. There was \nan air of sweet purity and feminine softness in her \nmanner that had something almost unearthly in it. \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n187 \n\n\nAnd Bradley, as he silently, and in the agony of pain, \ngazed at times on the lovely and innocent being, he \nthought of the pure and beautiful spirits, described in \nthe mythology of her fathers. \n\nWhen the mother returned, she brought with her \na draught, which the sick man drank, and in a short \ntime, after being thrown into profuse perspiration, he \nfell into a long and tranquil slumber. On awaking, \nhe felt relieved from the acute and terrible pains he \nhad before experienced ; but he still continued weak, \nlanguid, and from the swelling of his feet, and the \nstate of his wounds and bruises, unable to walk with\u00ac \nout assistance. During the many days that Edward \nlay upon the bed of pain, the young Ilaneda devoted \nher time and exertions to the amusement of her pri\u00ac \nsoner. Her store of gay and plaintive songs, and the \nwild and superstitious legends of her ancestors were \nall exhausted in shortening the hours of confinement. \nShe seemed to gaze with a mixture of devotion and \nlove upon Bradley ; and perhaps not aware of its na\u00ac \nture or name, she suffered the novel and absorbing- \npower of the latter passion to sink with its deceptive \nbeguiiings deep into her heart. Though the barb had \nstruck, and profoundly too, the wound had not yet \nrankled, and the poor girl still danced and sang, \nwhile the wreathed smiles kept their home about her \nlips. Among her numerous devices to wile away \nthe time, and amuse the prisoner, were the singular \ndances of her country'. The Sachem Epenow, aware \nthat the exhausted state of Bradley\u2019s health, and his \nunhealed hurts prevented all attempts at escape, left \nhim entirely at liberty; and, assisted by Haneda, Ed\u00ac \nward frequently walked a few yards into the forest \nadjoining the huts, where, seated on the grass, he wit\u00ac \nnessed the gambols and dances of the Indian girls. \nSometimes, to the number of thirty, they suddenly \nappeared emerging from the wood, bound with gir\u00ac \ndles of green leaves, and their skins painted with fan\u00ac \ntastic variety of hues. The tallest and most active, \n\n\n183 \n\n\nTIIE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nwith a pair of buck\u2019s horns on her head, an otter\u2019s \nskin as a girdle, and another on one arm, holding a \nbow and arrow in her hand, and a quiver hanging at \nher back, appeared as leader to the band. Her fol\u00ac \nlowers bore horns on their brows, and wooden swords \nor staves in their hands, and thus accoutred, with \nsongs and antic gestures, forming a circle, danced \nround the invalid. \n\nOne evening as Edward reclined upon his bed of \nskins, and watched the skill and ingenuity with which . \nthe Indian women, mother, and daughter plaited the \nlong dried grass into a variety of forms and party-co\u00ac \nloured devices, the chief, Epenow, suddenly entered \nthe cabin, on his return from hunting. He looked fa\u00ac \ntigued and feverish, declined the refreshment offered \nby the females, and throwing himself down in a cor\u00ac \nner of the hut, remained silent and evidently labour\u00ac \ning under pain and indisposition. His wife and daugh\u00ac \nter looked at each other with concern and anxiety,\u2014 \nbut neither spoke to the sachem, who continued quiet \nand reserved, suffering his pains, whatever they might \nbe, without complaint, or exhibiting any sign of la\u00ac \nmentation. Quitting the apartment, at a motion from \nher mother, Haneda quickly returned with a cup, and \na sharp and pointed flint, which' she delivered to the \nformer. Approaching her husband, the woman seat\u00ac \ned herself on the floor by his side, bound one of her \narms with a thong of deer-skin, and opening a vein in \nher arm, she suffered about a pint of blood to flow \ninto the vessel. Having stopped the stream, she \nsmiled, and raising the head of the savage, who had \ntaken no notice of what was passing, she delivered the \ncup to him. He sat up, carried the vessel to his lips, \nand, without ceasing, drank the contents. He then \nrose, and followed by his wife, retired to his own \nhut. \n\nEdward had gazed with much curosity, and some \ndisgust at this extraordinary proceeding, at which, \nhowever, Haneda exhibited neither surprise, nor any \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n189 \n\n\nunusual excitement. She appeared to watch her fa\u00ac \nther with much interest, and as the mother retired, \nthe affectionate girl, silently embraced her, but showed \nno dissatisfaction at what had just occurred. \n\n\u201c In the name of Heaven, my kind nurse, what can \nthis horrid ceremony mean ?\u201d said Edward. \n\nThe Indian exhibited some astonishment at the ear\u00ac \nnestness with which the question was asked, and said, \n\u201c When the earth is dry and parched, the Good Spirit \nsends the fresh and wholesome rain to restore its \nhealthfulness. And so when the red warrior sinks \nunder pain, and fever, and feebleness, the good matron \nturns the pure and cooling rivulet of her own life- \nstream into the hot and diseased veins of him she \nloves. It lends new vigour, and the deep river from \nthe sachem\u2019s heart will flow gladly and clearly from \nthe mixture. Would not the fair and beautiful brides \nof the pale chiefs, think ye, do as much ? It is one of \n'the delights of marriage, and cheerfully would my fa\u00ac \nther do the like for her he loves. If Haneda\u2019s blood \ncould carry balm and comfort with it to those she \nloves, the crimson rill should flow from the deepest, \nmost secret fountains of the heart. Tou would not \nhave tasted the cup, or her veins would, long since, \nhave furnished the draught for you.\u201d \n\nThe beautiful savage, as if unconscious of what she \ndid, took the hand of Edward, smiling mournfully as \nshe did so, carried it to her heart, pressed it for a \nmoment ; when suddenly blushing, she relinquished \nher hold on it, and casting down her eyes, seated her\u00ac \nself at some distance. She did not appear aware of \nhaving done any thing improper or indelicate ; but \nsome powerful feeling suddenly rushed through her \nbosom, and the spotless delicacy of a young and un\u00ac \ncorrupted female heart irresistibly dictated to her, at \nthe moment, and perhaps for the first time, that she \nhad been too familiar. She sat for some moments in \ngloomy silence ; a conduct unusual with her, for hi\u00ac \ntherto filled to the brim with joy arid cheerfulness, \n\nR 2 \n\n\n190 THE WITGH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\nher young, innocent, and 'unsuspecting bosom had \npoured out the overflowings of its content and mirth \nwith lavish and refreshing plentifullness. Was she, \nfor the first time, aware of the nature of her new \nfeelings ? And did she, with the innate and unearthly \nwhiteness of a virgin heart, now only discover that \nshe loved ? \n\nBradley, with deep concern, advanced towards the \nlovely and interesting girl, while in warm and glow\u00ac \ning terms he painted the gratitude he felt for her un\u00ac \nceasing and devoted attendance upon him. To a \nmanner and voice highly persuasive, he joined, when \nmuch excited, that ardent and burning force of ex\u00ac \npression, which, while it witnesses for the feelings of \nthe speaker, seldom fails to seize the attention of the \nhearer. Haneda listened with evident and unrestrain\u00ac \ned pleasure to the effusions of his thankfuilness. The \nsound of his voice, alone, seemed to afford her de\u00ac \nlight ; and when he touched upon the effect her \nkindness and devotedness had produced upon his own \nheart, and asserted that the remembrance of her would \nlinger there for ever, she hung with eager and undis\u00ac \nguised pleasure upon every accent. The idea that \nher image, in case of a separation, would live in his \nmemory, evidently soothed the pain arising from the \nsudden and novel sensations which engrossed her \nmind. \n\nThe idea of a possible separation, now, for the first \ntime, struck her ; and the pain it caused had awakened \na sense of the state of her heart. She had ascertained \nthat she loved the stranger ; and the suddenness of \nthe knowledge, together with the mental assurance \nthat a return of affection was not to be expected, over\u00ac \nwhelmed her. She rose, said a few words in a low \ntone, in answer to Edward ; but her voice falter\u00ac \ning, she became again silent, then, forcing a languid \nsmile, she moved towards the door. But nature was \nnot to be controlled by so young and artless an ac\u00ac \ntress. Before she could reach the threshold she sob- \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n191 \n\n\nbed violently, and covering her face with her hands, \nwept bitterly, and rushed from the hut. \n\nBradley was no coxcomb ; yet it was now impos\u00ac \nsible for him to doubt what before he had never \ndreamt. The innocent and beautiful Indian, plainly \nloved him ; and he felt a degree of shame tinge his \ncheek, as he reflected, that he could not return her \npure and devoted affection. When a spotless and \nardent female bosom receives, for the first an^ji only \ntime, this fierce and devouring passion, it is not only, \na more unsullied and noble feeling, but one in\u00ac \nfinitely more powerful than any that exalts or disgra\u00ac \nces man : \u2014 that daring being, who affirms, with proud \nimpiety, that his own grovelling image has been \nformed in the likeness of his Creator. \n\n\n192 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nCHAPTER XVI. \n\nWe parted and she hung \nIn tearless horror on the wild adieu : \n\nAnd every hour grew, \n\nPaler and sadder as she swan-like sung. \n\nShe wasted daily now ; \n\nWaning like lamps sepulchral when unfed \nIn chambers of the dead ; \n\nWhile the cold damps of death slept on her brow \n\nAt last she smiled and died, \n\nNaming her lover\u2019s name with latest breath, \n\nAnd melting into death, \n\nAs purest spirits into Edenglide. \n\nAnonymous. \n\nAutumn had now arrived and drawn on her cloak \nof many colours. The forest was dyed with innum\u00ac \nerable hues, and the dark venerable russet of the aged \noak was strikingly contrasted with the deep crimson, \ngreen, purple and orange which brightened and col\u00ac \noured the surrounding trees. The air was pure, re\u00ac \nfreshing and full of balm, and wandered through the \nendless forest with quiet and melancholy sound. The \nground was carpeted with the bright foliage that rus\u00ac \ntled under the foot of the hunter or the deer ; and as \na burst of gentle wind shook the light boughs, showers \nof party-coloured leaves darkened the air. The long \nridge of majestic hills bounding the prospect from the \nIndian village, rose from the deep valleys up to the \nclouds, and on their dark blue tops and sides the \nlight haze might be seen during the greater part of \nthe day. Rocks and precipices that during the sum\u00ac \nmer were invisible, now, as the woods were less \ndense, appeared in the distance : and the sun as it de\u00ac \nclined towards the horizon bathed the clouds and \nmountains in a sea of colours as sublime and beauti- \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n193 \n\n\nful as they were full of change. After the ocean, \nthere exists no sight so grand, \u2014 none that so affects \nthe mind with the idea of nature\u2019s vastness and man\u2019s \nfeebleness, \u2014 as that interminable main of waving \nforests, when viewed from some commanding and \nsolitary height. And yet how soon this mighty har\u00ac \nvest of noble plants melts away before the torch and \nthe axe of diminutive man. \n\nHitherto Bradley had been suffered by his Indian \nmaster to remain unguarded and unconfined. His \nwounds and the hurts upon his feet, together with the \nfeebleness which followed his fever, had left him ut\u00ac \nterly incapable of attempting escape ; and his wily \nowner entertaining no suspicion, had pursued his \nusual sports and mode of life, without giving much \nattention to his captive. The slow hours passed \nwith the same lagging pace and as strength and health \nbegan, once more, to dawn, the hope and idea of \nflight again swelled the heart of Edward. The soft \nand feminine Haneda still lavished her time and \nkindness upon him ; and while her deep and immac\u00ac \nulate passion called for his gratitude, he felt that \nkindness to her as well as selfish wishes urged him to \nattempt escape from his harrassing situation. The \nIndian maid lived apparently contented while em\u00ac \nployed in conducing to his relief or comfort ; and in \nthe beautiful phrase of a delightful old poet, \n\n. \u201c She, full of bashfulness and truth, \n\n\u201cLoved much, hoped little and desired naught.\u201d \n\nPleased and happy to be near him, she asked nothing \nbut permission to watch and provide for bis wants,\u2014 \nto hover about him and anticipate his wishes, \u2014 in a \nword, to gaze at and to hear him. The mind of the \nprisoner, naturally active, had dwelt for some time \nupon the prospect of escape. Difficulties almost in\u00ac \nsurmountable constantly presented themselves, yet \nstill hope held out her lures and with her wanton flat- \n' tery kept alive the spirit of adventure. Aware that \n\n\n194 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nthe suspicions of the Sachem Epenow would be in\u00ac \nstantly roused, should he once appear capable of ef\u00ac \nfecting a flight, Bradley resolved to continue, at least \nin outward show, a helpless invalid. He seldom \nmoved from his cabin and then only for a short dis\u00ac \ntance ; and when he walked, affected the weakness \nand lameness of one who still laboured under un\u00ac \ncured wounds. \n\nThe effect of confinement and anxiety, however, \nbegan to appear. The pale cheek and languid eye, \nthe thoughtful brow and pensive air, could not pass \nunheeded by the watchful and devoted Haneda. She \nbeheld them, \u2014 and for some time gazed with pity and \nalarm without divining the cause. N?w exertions \nwere made to amuse, and the simple science of In\u00ac \ndian cures was studied and exhausted without suc\u00ac \ncess. The gloom of the patient became catching, \u2014 \nand the young girl wasted and pined in secret over \nthe pallid figure of him whom she now felt was all the \nworld to her. In one of her solitary musings the \ntruth suddenly flashed across her mind. She started \nas if thunderstruck, the blood flowed impetuously to \nher cheeks and temples, \u2014 and as suddenly rolled back \ninto her heart, cold and striking through her remo\u00ac \ntest veins a chill, unwholesome thrilling. To part \nfrom him, even as he was, would she felt be as death \nto her ; and for some moments the enamoured savage \nclung to the hope that time and gratitude would at \nlast prove the parents of a softer passion. She re\u00ac \nsolved to prevent his departure. Hints and expres\u00ac \nsions that had formerly fallen from Edward, \u2014 now \nflashed with new light and meaning upon the simple \nand uncultivated mind of the young Indian, \u2014 and she \nfelt and acknowledged to herself, that the man she \nloved could be happy only with his own countrymen \nand away from her. But to be near him was now \nher chief, \u2014 indeed only delight, \u2014 and to part with \nthat solitary happiness was too terrible for a fond and \ndevoted heart* She vowed to consecrate her mo- \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n195 \n\n\nmerits and exertions to alleviating the pains of his \nconfinement ; \u2014 but to suffer him to quit her for ever, \nappeared more like a vision than a thing to be con\u00ac \nsented to or even anticipated. With the deceitful \nand lulling pleading of passion she laid asleep the ar\u00ac \nguments that justice and even delicacy had awakened \nin her young and pure bosom. Resolved, but dis\u00ac \ncontented with herself ; unhappy in the very act \nwhich held out the prospect of felicity ; and with her \ntender heart made for love, and loving even to over\u00ac \nflowing, but running waste unblessed by hope, the \ngraceful and delicate Haneda wandered sleepless and \nmiserable. In solitude she wept and with Bradley \nshe was silent, restless and gloomy. His solicitude \nand attentions towards her, in lieu of affording rap\u00ac \nture as formerly, distressed and confused her ; and \nmiserable when absent, she now trembled at finding \nthat even when beside him she was no longer conten\u00ac \nted and happy. She daily became more wretched \nand the damp of deferred hope and death was settling \nfast upon her heart. \n\n. ..I . . Thus many die. \n\nCalmly and quiet as young roses fade, \n\nLeaf paling after leaf, and still no aid. \n\nThese fearful feelings continued to harrass the noble- \nminded girl for more than a week. At length mad\u00ac \ndened by her own thoughts, and wrought to the mag\u00ac \nnanimous but cruel resolution by the gentle, pure, \nthough deep passion which engrossed her sleeping \nand wakeful moments, she determined to part with \nBradley and to aid his escape. Her love inducing \nher to sacrifice itself upon its own altar. \n\nIt was one of those beautiful and quiet evenings \nthat attend on the fall of the leaf, when scarcely the \necho of a sound was to be heard. The limbs of the \nforest were almost stript and the huge boughs of the \nold and gigantic trees stretched their knotted and \nskeleton arms in gloomy nakedness, as if to catch the \n\n\n196 \n\n\nTIIE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nlast warm rays of the sinking sun. The air was fresh, \nbut soft, \u2014 and bore a kindly warmth that made it dou\u00ac \nbly grateful. Haneda and Bradley had been sitting \nat the front of the cabin, for some time, in silence. \nAs the last streaks of the light disappeared, the In\u00ac \ndian maid turned to her companion and looking on the \nground, said, \n\n\u201c The thoughts of the white chief are not dwelling \nin the direction of those rich clouds, though his eyes \nare fixed upon them. Where the great light rises \nthere live his memory and his love. \u2019Tis certain \nthey never can die; Haneda feels that they cannot die.\u201d \n\n\u201c It is true, my kind nurse,\u201d said Edward, w the \nthoughts of the captive will wander towards the home \nof his youth, \u2014 it is, perhaps, the only pleasure of the \nprisoner, separated from those he loves, to visit in im\u00ac \nagination, at least, the friends who mourn over his \nloss. But I have had much to solace the pains of \nconfinement and should I ever again join my friends, \nthe recollection of your unequalled kindness and \nfriendship will never escape from my heart.\u201d \n\nThe girl smiled faintly as he uttered these words. \nBut immediately her face assumed an expression of \ndignity and firmness, that Bradley had never before \nobserved on it ; \u2014 its general character being of the \nmost gentle and timid nature. Some powerful and \nengrossing idea filled her mind, and rising, she \nadvanced towards Edward and said in a low but firm \nvoice, \n\nu I know your wishes ; \u2014 you cannot be happy with \nthe redmen, \u2014 even with the friends of Haneda. You \nmust fly, \u2014 and the sachem\u2019s daughter shall assist in \nyour escape.\u201d \n\nBradley gazed with delight and reverence upon the \nheroic and lovely maid. He seized her hand and \ncovering it with kisses endeavoured to pour out his \ngrateful feelings. The Indian, for a moment, was \noverpowered, and abandoning her hand to him, the \nbright flu$h of rapture stole over her cheek and dyed \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n191 \n\n\nher temples and forehead with its deep hues. But \nsuddenly she awoke from the trance. To the warm \nblush succeeded a deadly paleness, \u2014 and withdrawing \nher hand, abruptly, she pressed it strongly against her \nbrows and staggering towards the cabin of her mo\u00ac \nther, she disappeared. \n\nHaneda did not appear again, and Edward passed \nthe night filled with admiration and gratitude towards \nthe generous savage, and with the delicious hope that \nhe should again taste of liberty and mingle with the \nfriends of his childhood. On the following morning \nhis benefactress appeared, languid, but with a smile, \n(as she greeted him,) that looked combined of love \nand resignation. She busied herself with more than \nordinary alacrity in contributing to his convenience, \nand arranged the little delicacies which her care and \nskill had provided for his morning meal, with even \ndeeper interest than on former occasions. Having \nprepared his breakfast, she retired to a corner of the \nhut, and as he eat, sang one of her songs, the air of \nwhich was mournful in the extreme, and seemed cho\u00ac \nsen by the youthful songstress as emblematic of her \nown future prospects. When he had finished, she \nadvanced and informed him she had fixed on the en\u00ac \nsuing night for his flight. The chief, her father, was \nnow absent on a hunting expedition, accompanied by \nall or most of the able-bodied Indians, and the fa\u00ac \nvourable opportunity was not to be lost. She sat \ndown close to the side of Bradley and drawing from \nher bosom a piece of smooth and polished bark, on \nwhich she had marked the bends, windings and fords \nof the neighbouring rivers, she proceeded to instruct \nhim in the route most eligible for him to pursue. She \nadvised him to follow the course of the stream, as it \nwould conduct him, without the hazard of being lost \nin the forest, to the nearest settlement of the whites. \nThough longer than the route by which he had ar\u00ac \nrived at the Indian village, the fond and' considerate \ngirl had naturally concluded, that during his suffer- \n\ns \n\n\n198 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nings on the late march- the prisoner had taken but \nslight notice of the road he pursued. She, therefore, \nwith precise and reiterated instructions endeavoured \nto make him master of the difficulties and dangers of \nhis intended journey. \n\nDeeply impressed with reverence and gratitude to\u00ac \nwards his benefactress, Edward gazed with a feeling \nof delight and respect upon her youthful and noble \nfeatures, beaming, as they were, with an expression \nfull of pure and devoted attachment to the man she \nwas about to say bye well to for ever. She seldom \nleft him during the remainder of the day, and with \nsome delicate and affectionate design constantly hov\u00ac \nered about him. She had prepared a supply of pro\u00ac \nvisions and having furnished him with a pair of mo- \ncasons, ornamented by her own hands, and an Indian \nspear to protect him through the forest, she with deep \nbut hidden anguish awaited the approach of night. \nThe hour so anxiously expected, at length arrived. \nHer mother had retired to rest. In the neighbouring \ncabins every sound was hushed. As the bright moon \nbegan to light the top of the hills and brighten the \nthin clouds that passed slowly over their summits, \nEdward, restless with impatience, heard a light, rapid \nstep and the door of the hut opening, Haneda entered. \nShe did not speak, but observing that Bradley ap- j \npeared ready, she beckoned to him, and as he fol- I \nlowed, proceeded with noiseless and careful steps to- 1 \nwards the forest. When they had reached the woods, ] \nshe turned towards her companion, and as the moon, l \nnow risen, shone upon her face, the large, heavy tears 1 \nrolled down her cheeks. Edward took her hand and \\ \npressed it repeatedly to his lips. Then as if his own 1 \nheart was too full for many words, he said in a low \nvoice, \n\n\u201c And now, my beautiful and incomparable friend, 1 \nnothing remains but for me to invoke a blessing upon j \nthee and then to part.5\u2019 \n\n\u201cAh! me! and that will he a fearful act for the \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n199 \n\n\npoor Indian girl,\u201d said Haneda. \u201c It is harder even \nthan I thought it. And yet the very thought has \nbroken and crushed a very young and once a very \nsmiling heart.\u201d \n\nThe situation of Bradley was one full of torment. \nHe felt distressed and humbled to the earth, \u2014 but he \nremained silent. He carried the hand of his com\u00ac \npanion many times to his lips and forehead, and sev\u00ac \neral hot tears fell upon it. She perceived them and \nsaid. \n\nw Before we say farewell I will lead the pale war\u00ac \nrior some little distance farther. Under that vast and \nbranching tree, whose green habit the autumn winds \nhave stript from it, we will say the word. Nay, do \nnot move so quickly, for when that little space has \nbeen past, Haneda will never look upon the great \nforest again with delight. That little word farewell, \nis very, very full of anguish, and if we put it but \na few steps farther off it seems a blessing.\u201d \n\nWhen they had reached the tree, the young girl \nsuddenly stopped and trembled violently. Ed- \n%vard was obliged to support her drooping figure, \u2014 \nand put his hrm gently round her waist. But she \nstarted as he did so and put away his arm, leaning \nfor a moment against the tree. Then, as if by a vio\u00ac \nlent and instantaneous exertion she advanced towards \nhim, presented her cheek which he saluted, and say\u00ac \ning, feebly, \n\n\u201c May the Great Spirit protect you, farewell ! \nfarewell !\u201d \n\nShe signed to him to leave her. With a sorrowful \nheart he obeyed, and turned his steps in the direction \ntowards the river. After walking some distance, led \nby an irresistible feeling, he stopt and looked back at \nthe interesting being he had just quitted. She was \nstanding in an attitude of hopeless despair, watching \nhis retreating figure- As he halted, she started, \nwaved her hand towards him, then pressing it against \n\n\n200 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF XEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nher eyes, she suddenly fled towards the Indian village \nand disappeared for ever. \n\nWith rapid steps, but a heavy heart, Edward pur\u00ac \nsued his route through the thick wood. The image of \nthe charming but uncultivated female he had just left \nhung perpetually before his eyes ; and with the way\u00ac \nward feeling so common to man, he mourned the ab\u00ac \nsence of one, who but a few moments before, he \nwished never again to behold. With a hunter\u2019s saga- \ncity, guided by the stars, the bark of the trees and \nother arcana, known to the rambling inhabitants of a \nnew and wild couutry, he pursued the course which \nwas to lead him to the banks of the river. The light \nafforded by the moon was beautiful, and the long sha\u00ac \ndows of the trees appeared darkly and distinctly \nmarked upon the ground, where even the few leaves \nthat still clothed their branches were shadowed and \ndefined. He travelled for some hours without en\u00ac \ncountering any living animal, though the distant howl \nof the wolf or the cry of the wild-cat often broke the si\u00ac \nlence of the scene around him. Once or twice, indeed, \nhe distinguished the shadow of some animal moving \ncovertly among the bushes and thickets, \u2014 but as if \nfearful of approaching nearer, the hungry and prowl\u00ac \ning inhabitant of the wood slunk away with a low in\u00ac \ndistinct and angry growl. \n\nAt length as the day began to dart his warm and \nglistening rays through the forest, spangling with \nmillions of brilliant drops the branches and high grass \nof the wood, he distinguished the sullen roar of the \nrapids and in a short time arrived at the bank of the \nriver. The stream here was neither bread nor deep; \nbut dashed over its rocky and shelving bed with loud \nand unceasing roar, covered with a white foam, which \nascended in thick mist. The ground was clothed \nwith trees to the very edge of the water, and along \nthe shore, thick and entangled bushes made the route \ndifficult and at times impossible to be followed. He \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n201 \n\n\nwas, now, frequently obliged to strike some distance \ninto the forest in order to pursue the course of the \nriver, and found the travelling harrassing and fatigue- \ning in the extreme. The life of confinement he had \nlately led rendered him less capable of bearing fatigue \nand he began to suffer pain and lassitude before many \nhours of the morning had passed. Consulting the \nbark, upon which Haneda had drawn the various \nbends of the river, he at length reached the spot \nwhich she had described as the ford. Plunging into \nthe dark and angry looking stream, which reached \nto his bosom, he passed to the opposite shore,, \nand as he once again mounted the bank blessed, \nhis benefactress, and with renewed exertions ad\u00ac \nvanced on his way homewards. He thought, now, \nthat could he once reach the village after his perils \nand escape and pursue again the life he had formerly \ndisdained, that he should have nothing to complain \nof, \u2014 nothing to desire. He was returning a wiser \nand perhaps a better man. Adversity teaches sore \nlessons, \u2014 and if her eloquence be harsh and unmu\u00ac \nsical, her maxims are golden. The image of the In\u00ac \ndian girl still played before his mind\u2019s eye ; and the \nsweet, silent eloquence and voiceless persuasion that \npleaded in her look, when he last gazed at her, haun\u00ac \nted him without cessation. He did not love her and \nstill she was the most interesting being he had ever \nknown. Perhaps the silent flame was on the eve of \nbeing kindled and the cold, damp breath of pride had \nextinguished the latent spark for ever. By pride man \nwins hell as angels lost heaven. \n\nWith perseverence but with strength that rapidly \ndecreased, Edward pursued his difficult way. Com\u00ac \npletely exhausted, he twice during the day halted and \nendeavoured to recover his worn out force, but Avith- \nout success; and as evening came on and he had \nalready reached the road that led to the village, (not \nmany miles ofl',) he became faint, sick and tho- \nroughlv worn out. He still attempted to walk on, ho- \n\ns 2 \n\n\n202 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nping that some chance traveller might meet and af\u00ac \nford him assistance ; or that, upheld by the energy \nof his feelings, his sinews would yet serve him till he \nreached the dwelling of some white inhabitant of the \ncountry. The road, if indeed the narrow and rugged \npath might so be termed, wandered with erring and \nintricate mazes through a low, flat country, where the \nwoods had been partially burned, and the black stumps \nand dreary face of the land gave the whole scene \na desolate, barren and cheerless appearance. The \nfeelings of the traveller as he slowly and feebly tot\u00ac \ntered along became gloomy in proportion as his limbs \nrefused to do their office. He was now almost ar\u00ac \nrived at the end of his disastrous pilgrimage ; home \nalready gladdened his heart as he saw it in imagina\u00ac \ntion ; and now when on the threshold, as it were, he \nwas condemned to sink and abandon it for ever. The \nthought of dying\" in such a spot and at such a time, \nas his eye glanced around and took in the wild, sad \nand comfortless scene about him, struck with a cold\u00ac \nness and disgustful dampness upon his heart, that the \nidea of death had never before, even in times more \nperilous, conjured to his fancy. Death is most terri\u00ac \nble amid loneliness and silence. And when his feeble \nand decrepid victim is condemned to watch his slow \nblow, unwitnessed and unmourned, the proudest and \nhaughtiest spirit droops before the lingering and long \nanticipated stroke. With melancholy forebodings \nBradley continued to totter along the path ; \u2014 but sud\u00ac \ndenly his head became giddy, a mist played before \nhis eyes and staggering forwards, with a groan, he \nsunk lifeless on the ground. \n\nWhile the inanimate body lay upon the cold earth \ntwo travellers on horseback slowly advanced from \nthat end of the road which led to the nearest sea-port \ntown, and seemed pursuing their way towards the \nneighbouring village. They proved to be a lady at\u00ac \ntended by a stout, middle-aged man, dressed in the \nround jacket and loose trowsers of a sailor, and who \n\n\nTHE WITCH OP NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n203 \n\n\nfrom the manner in which he sat upon his horse exhi\u00ac \nbited evident signs of his entire ignorance of the no\u00ac \nble equestrian art. The female was young, clad in a \nriding habit of black cloth and, from the air of atten\u00ac \ntion and respect with which she was treated by her \ncompanion, seemed of the higher or richer order of \nsociety. As they approached, the animal which the \nman bestrode, started and showed decisive signs of \nrestiveness and unwillingness to proceed. He was \nin advance of the lady, and his rider utterly unable \neither .to restrain or guide him, as soon as he beheld \nthe body of a man, lying by the side of the road, and \nat which the horse had been alarmed, immediately \ndismounted. Indeed he seized with avidity upon \nany circumstance that afforded a tolerable excuse for \nrelieving him from a situation in which he was alike \nunskillful and miserable. The lady was much shocked \nat the sight, and having halted, watched with deep emo\u00ac \ntion, while her fellow-traveller advanced to ascertain \nthe condition of the unfortunate Bradley. The stran\u00ac \nger as he raised the body in his arms and felt the \nheart, turned eagerly towards the female and ex\u00ac \nclaimed, \n\n\u201c He\u2019s not dead yet, Ma\u2019am, and it\u2019s likely, by good \nluck in our coming, may live many days to come,\u2014 \nfor all, it\u2019s nearly over with him.\u201d \n\nu Thank Heaven,\u201d answered the other, u it is a hor\u00ac \nrid place to die in (shuddering as she looked around \non the desert and blasted scene.) Pray assist me to \ndismount, and we may revive the unhappy man.\u201d \n\n\u201c I\u2019ll do that for you,\u201d said the sailor, u if you arc \nas ready to get down as I was, I wish you much joy \nof the descent, young lady.\u201d \n\nAs the seaman raised Bradley\u2019s head, the female \nbegan to chafe his temples, and directed her compa\u00ac \nnion to loosen the black handkerchief about his neck. \nHe did so, but smiling with much drollery, he drew \nfrom his pocket a bottle covered with leather, which \nhe applied to the mouth of the inanimate man, say- \n\n\n204 THE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\ning at the same time, it was approved medicine in \nalmost all cases that had come within his practice. \n\n\u201c He is some unfortunate hunter,\u201d said the lady, as \nshe looked at the dress, and saw the spear which lay \nby the side of Edward ; \u201c and from his pale and ema\u00ac \nciated appearance, no doubt, he has been long among \nthese dreadful and intermineable forests. Is not part \nof his dress in the Indian style ? And he wears the \nshoes of the savages.\u201d \n\n\u201cHe has a pair of handsome, blue mustachios, too,\u201d \nsaid the sailor, \u201c but they are not the fashion among \nthe red sportsmen. It\u2019s most likely the poor fellow \nwas returning from a hunting expedition, and his \nstrength has given out just as he was almost in a \nsnug harbour. Ha ! look there Ma\u2019am, see, the blood \nis just beginning to give his white cheeks a little of \nthe colour that \u2019s so pretty in your own.\u201d \n\nThe female, as she hung over the body of Edward, \nwatched with intense interest for the first appearance \nof returning animation. She was evidently deeply \naffected, and as she gazed on the fine features and \ncommanding form before her, pity and anxiety for the \nevent of his recovery appeared to absorb her entirely. \nThe cordial which the seaman had administered, and \nwhich the reader will probably have concluded, had \nbeen provided for a different purpose, began to show \nits power in restoring life to the patient. The latter \nhad been exhausted by extreme fatigue, which, in the \ndebilitated state of his body, had brought on a faint\u00ac \ning fit; and the brandy, which had been copiously ad\u00ac \nministered, speedily produced a happy, though not its \nmost common effect. \n\nWhen Bradley Hoovered his senses, he stared wildly \nabout him for a moment with the air of a dreamer, \nsuddenly awakened. He raised himself slowly, and \nfixing his eyes stedfastly upon the beautiful creature \nbefore him, watched her as some lovely vision, which \nwas in a moment to disappear. His intense gaze \nbrought a deep blush into the cheeks of the lady, who. \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. 205 \n\nthough exhibiting unequivocal signs of delight at his \nrecovery, suddenly rose from her knee, on which she \nhad been kneeling, and turned away in confusion. \nHer companion now addressed Edward, and after con\u00ac \ngratulating him upon his restoration, entered into a short \nand humorous account of the manner of their meet- \ning, giving him to understand that to his own skill \nand foresight, and the kindness of fortune, he was in\u00ac \ndebted for his return to life. Bradley, much recruited \nby the cordial of his worthy assistant, rose, and ad\u00ac \nvancing towards the fair and benevolent being who \nhad so strongly attracted his attention, in warm and \neloquent terms poured out his gratitude. With a grace \nand timid modesty that heightened her beauty, the \nlovely young girl received his acknowledgments, \nwhich were at length interrupted by her fellow-tra\u00ac \nveller, who notified the approach of evening, and re\u00ac \ncommended the prosecution of their journey. It now \nappeared that the strangers were on their way to the \nvillage, towards which Edward had also been turning \nhis steps. There was an air and manner about the \nlatter person that immediately proclaimed the gentle\u00ac \nman, and irresistibly led most of those who beheld \nhim, for the first time, to take an interest in his wel\u00ac \nfare. He had perceptibly awakened this feeling in \nhis new acquaintances, and it was proposed by the \nseaman, after he had said a few words in an under \ntone to the lady, that they all should proceed to the \nvillage together. lie added, at the same time, with \na queer smile, \u00abnd a slight blush on his sun-burnt \nface, that he would relinquish his horse to the sick \ntraveller, and walk by his side. To this Bradley ob\u00ac \njected, until observing that the o&er party was evi\u00ac \ndently uneasy at the idea of remounting his horse af\u00ac \nter his late alarm, he took possession of his seat, and \nthe party proceeded on their road. \n\nAs they passed along, the conversation naturally \nturned upon the late situation of Bradley; who now \ngave a short account of his captivity and escape. The \n\n\n206 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nfemale listened with avidity to the recital, and alreadv \nprepossessed in favour of the stranger, the novel and \nromantic incidents of his adventure rivited her atten\u00ac \ntion, and increased the interest she already felt in his \nbehalf. Flattered by the evident concern he had roused \nin the bosom of his auditor, Edward, as he continued \nto listen to, or gaze at his fellow-traveller, began, \nhimself, to entertain a like feeling towards her. Such \nare the workings of gratified vanity, adventitiously \naided by time and events. Nor was this suddenly \nexcited feeling decreased in either bosom, when, in \nthe course of conversation, it appeared that the lady \nwas none other than the daughter of his friend of the \ncave, and was now on her way to the dwelling of his \nfather. To large eyes of a deep blue, fringed with \nlong black eye-lashes, she joined a rich abundance of \ndark glossy hair,, which played in beautiful disorder \nover a forehead and cheeks of truly feminine white\u00ac \nness. With a soft voice, she possessed a manner full \nof confiding, and artless grace that irresistibly won \nand held the attention. In short, she was of rare \nbeauty, and enhanced the value of the jewel she pos\u00ac \nsessed, by appearing totally unaware of its costly \nvalue. \n\nThe village was at length reached, the parsonage \nentered, and Edward again clasped in his arms the \ncompanions of his youth. The austere, but venerable \nlooking clergyman, silently adored his God, in grati\u00ac \ntude for the restoration of his son ; Chesterley, with \nboisterous and hearty delight, wrung the hands of his \nfriend; and the gentle Agnes wept in undissembled \nand uncontrolled tenderness upon the bosom of her \nbrother. He appeared as one who had broken the \ncearments of the grave, and burst unexpectedly upon \nthe sight of sorrowing friends. Such sudden and un\u00ac \nlooked for meetings make young hearts swell and \noverflow ; and the almost ossified veins of age dilate \nand soften with the warm stream that is driven ra\u00ac \npidly through them. \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n207 \n\n\nThe strangers were presented and welcomed as the \nfriends of Edward. The lady had been expected, \nfor although neither Chesterly nor the Bradley family \nknew of the inhabitant of the cave, they were not ig\u00ac \nnorant that a relative of one of Edward\u2019s friends was \nto be, for a short time, an inmate of their house. \nMuch was to be told and heard by all. Chesterly re\u00ac \nlated that after the close of the battle, and the flight \nof the Indians, the whites remained too much fatigued, \nand had suffered too great loss to follow far in the \npursuit. Bradley they supposed was murdered, and \nborne off by the savages in triumph, as one of the \nwhite men had seen him thrown down, and then drag\u00ac \nged from the field by an Indian warrior. For himself, \nhe had remained after the combat with Samoset, too \nmuch reduced by pain, and the loss of blood, to move \nfrom the spot where he had thrown himself, and was * \nin the evening carried from the field by some of his \nfellow-soldiers. \n\nOn the morning after his return, filled with impa\u00ac \ntience to announce to his aged friend the glad tidings \nof his daughter\u2019s arrival, Edward left his father\u2019s \nhouse, and hastened towards the forest. On his way \nhe stopped at the cabin of Uncas, who forgot his In\u00ac \ndian phlegm in the delight with which he welcomed \nthe re-appearance of his young friend. The faithful \nand noble-hearted savage had continued to supply the \nwants of the recluse ; and now accompanied Bradley \ntowards the dreary dwelling of their mutual acquaint\u00ac \nance. With hearts at ease they pursued their route \nrapidly through the woods, and at length came in \nsight of the dark and entangled thicket, that nearly \ncovered the entrance of the cavern. As they entered, \nthey observed the old man deeply intent upon bis \nbook ; so firmly indeed did his attention appear to be \nfixed upon bis studies, that he seemed ignorant of \ntheir approach. Edward advanced, and with the gay \n' tones of a happy man saluted his friend, taking at the \nsame time his hand, which lay upon the table before \n\n\n208 \n\n\nTIIE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nhim. But as if he had touched an adder, he relin\u00ac \nquished his hold, and started hack with unfeigned \nhorror. The hand was cold and clammv. Its owner \nwas dead. \n\nThe same mild placidity that had dwelt upon the \nliving features, haunted their palid ruins. The eyes \nwere closed as if in sleep. But about the mouth a \nsmile still remained, loth to quit a spot where it had \nlived so long. The body was erect, and the spirit \nmust have fled suddenly, and without disturbing the \nvenerable mansion over which it had so long presided. \nEdward wept, and .was not ashamed to weep ; and the \nIndian wrung hi* hands and groaned aloud, in the \nbitterness of his sorrow. Thus died, and thus was \nmourned, Whalley, one of the fearless judges of \nCharles I. of England. A plain stone, with the ini\u00ac \ntials E. W., is still traditionally supposed to mark the \ngrave of General Whalley, in the old church-yard. \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n209 \n\n\nCHAPTER XVII. \n\nThe thirsty camel snuffs the far-off spring; \n\nFollowing the pest the boding raven flies; \n\nAnd heartless man is found where blood \u2019s to flow\u2014 \n\nSince aneient Lilith\u2019s day \u2019t hath been his sport \nTo gloat on others\u2019 wo. \n\nAnonymous. \n\nWhen the Witch quitted the scene of the combat \nshe retired slow and dogged, as if loath to lose sight \nof blood and pain, and followed with reluctant \nsteps a small party of Indians, who fled in a di\u00ac \nrection different from that taken by the captors of \nBradley. Her irritable and restless temper soon led \nher to look with contempt and disgust upon her new \ncompanions. Friends who have sworn eternal affec\u00ac \ntion and during long periods have worn but one heart, \nwill upon the dissention for a nothing, steep their \nfriendship in forgetfulness and plant in its stead a bit\u00ac \nter, an irreconcileable enmity. And foes, who but \nyesterday could have thought shrewdly upon recipro\u00ac \ncal murder, will upon the shallow foundation of a \nsudden whim build a strong and durable intimacy. \nThus Annie, who had lately endowed her red friends \nwith every virtue, suddenly discovered that they pos\u00ac \nsessed every vice. She became uneasy and discon\u00ac \ntented ; and finally, with her rapid and habitual de\u00ac \ncision, she determined to quit her new associates. \nWandering, for some time, without any decided \npurpose, at length, urged by fate or the power of \nformer associations, she turned her steps towards the \nhovel which had lately sheltered her. Upon entering \nthe foul and deserted cabin, she smiled grimly as her \neye, for a moment, rested upon the disgusting and \n\nT \n\n\n210 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nclotted evidences of her late crime. The body of \nthe old hunter had disappeared, but the ground was \nstill covered with his blood and parcels of his hair ; \nwhile the marks of his fearful and dying struggles \nwere still to be seen. She appeared to feel neither \nhorror nor contrition at the exhibition before her,\u2014 \nbut seating herself upon the log, resumed her ha\u00ac \nbit of nervous and incessant swinging backward and \nforward, occasionally talking to herself. While in \nthis situation and absorbed by the powerful workings \nof her sleepless mind, her attention was suddenly ar\u00ac \nrested by a slight noise. She started, and rose in\u00ac \nstantly from the seat. \u2014 while her eye ran round the \nhut, as if in search of some weapon of defence. \nNone was to be found. She glanced at the small \nwindow in the side of the cabin, whence the sound \nhad appeared to come, and instantly a man\u2019s face dis\u00ac \nappeared from the aperture. She then rushed to\u00ac \nwards the door, \u2014 but as she gained the threshold, she \nfelt herself suddenly seized and pinioned by two \nstrong men. She became pale and trembled violently, \nfor a moment, but her courage returned instantly,\u2014 \nand making no resistance, she submitted to be bound \nand led towards the village. \n\nAmidst the shouts and hootings of the populace, \nwho had assembled to greet her arrival, and whose \npresence seemed to inflict more pain than the antici\u00ac \npation of her future punishment, she entered the gates \nof the prison from which she had so lately emanci\u00ac \npated the Indian sachem. As she passed through \nthe crowd, her complexion varied more than once, but \nshe remained silent and contemptuous, until arrived \nat the door of the jail, when she turned and venting \nher spleen in a furious and bitter malediction upon \nthe surrounding spectators, she turned her back upon \nthem and disappeared. \n\nThe news of the capture of Annie Brown soon \nspread through the neighbouring settlements ; and the \n\n\nTHE WITCH OP NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n21 1 \n\n\nministers collected to debate and consult upon the \ncourse to be pursued. The belief in witchcraft was \ntoo deeply rooted and the evidence brought against \nthe unhappy woman too strong to make the consulta\u00ac \ntion long or angry. It was determined that she \nshould be tried for the crime of sorcery, as well as \nfor the murders of which she was strongly suspected. \nThe day appointed for the trial at length arrived, and \nthe prisoner who had complained with feverish im\u00ac \npatience of the delay, entered the court with the de- \ntermed and insolent air of command, for which she \nhad so long been remarkable. The room was crowded \nand the deep, profound attention with which the mul\u00ac \ntitude watched every motion of the undaunted fe\u00ac \nmale, was strongly coloured by the superstitious dread \nwith which they still regarded her supernatual pre\u00ac \ntensions. Pale and anxious faces, with the fixed, un\u00ac \nwandering eye, told of the anxiety and excitement \nwith which the result was expected. Low and in\u00ac \ndistinct murmurs ran through the hall and the narra\u00ac \ntors of her supposed spells found willing, untired and \nbelieving auditors. The solemn, dark and severe \ncountenances of the assembled ministers and judges, \nthe terror exhibited by many of the spectators, \u2014 the \nnature of the crime and the dreadful punishment that \nwaited upon conviction, with the unbending and \nhaughty audacity with which the prisoner appeared at \nthe bar, all tended to render the scene impressive even \nto awfulness. Silence was commanded and the trial \ncommenced. With breathless and unbroken attention \nthe audience hung upon the various, singular and in\u00ac \ncredible evidence offered by a number of witnesses, \nwho detailed with minute and solemn precision num\u00ac \nberless acts of the prisoner\u2019s necromancy. There is \na species of terror which affords its pleasures. The \nexcitement which is the consequence of such fear is \nakin to the delirious animation of which bitter and \n' distasteful drugs are often the parent, \u2014 and to which \n\n\n212 \n\n\nTHE WITCft OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nthose who use them cling with unconquerable and \ngrowing fondness. The' idea of fear often gives a \npungency to the exhibition, which without it would \nappear comparatively tame. Many of the auditors, \nwhile they listened to the detailed narratives of the \nhag\u2019s sorceries, trembled as they gazed upon her dark \nand uncommon features, \u2014 but curiosity triumphed \nand they remained in her dreaded presence, abiding \nthe event of the trial. \n\nMany elderly men and women had given their tes\u00ac \ntimony, when the name of a female witness was called. \nSome little delay ensued and it appeared that the wit\u00ac \nness hesitated to advance. At the command of the \nCourt, however, she moved towards the table in front \nof the judges. She was young, apparently not more \nthan sixteen years of age, and as she placed herself \nat the table, her face wore a ghastly paleness and her \nlimbs trembled so violently that she was forced to \nlean against the railing of the bar. She cast a rapid \nglance at the Witch, as she took her stand, but in\u00ac \nstantly withdrew her eyes with increased terror. An\u00ac \nnie observing her horror, and irritated at the disgust \nand loathing with which the girl regarded her, deter\u00ac \nmined, though she had, hitherto, maintained a surly \nsilence, to revenge the insult offered to her vanity. \nPique at the offence, which she now imagined had \nbeen aimed at her personal appearance, seemed sud- . \ndenly to rouse all her pride and venom ; and the red \nspot upon her dark cheek and the sparkle in her eye \nbetokened the fierce violence of her awakened resent\u00ac \nment. \n\nAfter relating many instances of the prisoner\u2019s \nwitchcraft, the girl proceeded to tell that she had fre\u00ac \nquently been tormented by her in the shape of a \nblack cat. That she had numberless times attempted \nto seize the animal, \u2014 but it had always eluded her \nvigilence, \u2014 until one evening she suddenly rushed \nupon it with a large knife and inflicted a wound on the \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n213 \n\n\nbeast\u2019s foot, after which it never re-appeared. She \nheard afterwards, what tended to substantiate her \nsuspicions, that the Witch had a bad wound upon her \nfoot, which she no doubt had received while disguised \nunder the form of the black cat. Such conclusive \nevidence was not to be resisted or doubted, and a \nmurmur of horror and deep conviction ran through \nthe crowd. Annie became almost maddened with \nrage, and watching her opportunity she sprang upon \nthe witness and seizing her by the hair, exclaimed \nwith furious passion, \n\n\u201cYe lie, ye lie, you pale-faced chit, no drop of my \nblood was ever spilt by such a whey-face. But I\u2019ll \nsee if a woman\u2019s nails can bring any from your white \ncheeks. I\u2019ll teach ye truth and better manners to\u00ac \nwards your elders.\u201d \n\nThe poor girl, in an agony of fear made the room \necho with her frantic cries and when the surrounding \nmen had torn the Witch from her victim, the latter \nwas borne off utterly senseless and with the blood \nstreaming from her cheeks. This conduct contributed \nbut little to influence the judges in her favour, and \nAnnie was pronounced guilty of the crime, for which \nshe stood charged. Nothing now remained but that \nsentence should be pronounced upon the unhappy wo\u00ac \nman. The superior judge, an ancient and venerable \nlooking personage, but who still, in his stern and un\u00ac \nbending countenance, exhibited an expression of dis\u00ac \ngust and horror as he regarded the prisoner, thus \naddressed her. \n\n\u201c In the prosecution of this unfortunate affair, the \njustices, judges and all others concerned have con- \nscienciously endeavoured to do the thing that was \nright. To this worthy end we have diligently and \naccurately consulted the precedents of former times \nand the salutary precepts laid down and explained by \nlearned writers about witchcraft. We have unwea- \nriedly studied Keeble on the Common Law, Chapter, \n\n. T 3 \n\n\n214 THE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\nConjuration. Sir Matthew Hale\u2019s trials of Witches, \nprinted 1682. Glanvil\u2019s Collection of sundry trials \nin England and Ireland. Cotton Mather\u2019s memora\u00ac \nble Providence relating to Witchcraft, printed 1685. \nAnd it now remains for me to decide and I do de\u00ac \nclare that you Annie Brown have been proved guilty \nof the horrible and hellish crime of witchcraft and \nthat we do sentence you to the death, which you have \nby your wicked sorceries, so fully deserved. \u2014 And \nmay God have mercy on your soul.\u201d \n\nThe wretched woman heard her fate announced \nwith a calmness that shocked and intimidated many \nof the crowd. As the judge concluded his address, \nshe turned to the officer and with a steady brow and \nunchanging voice, said, \u201c They say the gu Ity fear to \ndie and tremble at the bare apparition of death. \nBut I entertian no such dread and it cannot come too \nsoon. Come lead me back to my jail, or rather to \nthe gallows, that I may rid me from the gaze of those \nI hate and despise.\u201d Raising her tall figure to its \nfull height, she advanced through the crowd, which \ngave way at her approach and still seemed to regard \nher fierce and unbroken spirit with awe and terror. \n\nIt was on a cold and gusty morning in the dreary \nmonth of November that a crowd collected around \nthe door of the prison. It was the morning of the \nexecution and the assembled spectators, wrapt in their \ncloaks and hoods, waited anxiously and impatiently \nfor the hour of death. I have watched the faces of \na multitude on such a day, and found but little com\u00ac \nmiseration dwelling on the features of men or fe\u00ac \nmales. Impatient complaints at the delay, \u2014 heartless \nsneers at the feelings and expected fate of the crimi\u00ac \nnal, half-smothered and brutal oaths at being detained \nin the cold air, were the sounds that most generally \nfell, plenteous and disgustful, upon the ear. \n\nA knot of three or four women had collected near \nfhe door of the prison and, at times, stood deeply \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\n215 \n\n\ninterested in their conversation. An old and meagre- \nlooking female with an air of doubt and derision on \nher countenance, seemed to he listened to with de\u00ac \nference and curiosity as she, in a low and broken \nvoice, harangued her auditors. \n\n\u201c You have but little right as yet, Goodwife Daw\u00ac \nson, to crow over her downfall. Betwixt the bowl \nand the lip much often falls, and it\u2019s along step from \nthe prison door to the gallows on the hill. Annie \nBrown is a powerful woman and till I see her swing, \nI \u2019ll never believe that she dies on the gallows.\u201d \n\n\u201c I scorn her, living or dead,\u201d interrupted Goody \nDawson, \u201c and if there wasn\u2019t a man to do the work, \nI \u2019d tye the rope myself, about her filthy neck. There\u2019s \nbut slight chance of her escape, now, thank Heaven, \nunless she rides off upon her broomstick or her foul \nblack cat. And neighbour Walford, here, looks as \nif she thought it as likely as not. The hag will not \nput her nails upon an honest woman\u2019s face again, I \nguess.\u201d \n\n\u201c Do ye think it will happen ?\u201d whispered Good- \nwife Walford, (with a pale cheek,) to the oldest talker. \nu They say she can fly if she chooses, and no one \nwould mount the cart that could keep out.\u201d \n\nu Ah ! ye \u2019ll see when it comes to pass,\u201d replied \nthe other. u But mark what an ancient woman tells \nyou, and one that has witnessed many things that few \nothers look upon. If I see her hang upon the beam, \nfor all that I \u2019ll have my thoughts, \u2014 ye understand \nme neighbour ?\u201d \n\n\u201c Yes \u2014 yes,\u201d answered her companion, moving \nclose to her side and whispering in her ear. \u201c And \nif you\u2019ll let me have the charm, you spake about, to \nguard against her walking through our lone house, \u2014 \nyou shall have the ten shillings we talked of some \ndays back.\u201d \n\n\u201c You shall have it,\u201d said the old dame, \u201c but hush, \n\n\n216 \n\n\nTHE WITCH OF NEW ENGLAND. \n\n\nno more of that now. And have ye heard, gos\u00ac \nsips, of the bridal that \u2019s about to happen ?\u201d \n\n\u201c No \u2014 no,\u201d answered the other and approached \nwith instinctive curiosity towards the announcer of \nnews. \u201c Ah ! well,\u201d said the ancient relater of scan\u00ac \ndal, \u201c I always thought the sprightly young sportsman \nwould be caught in that snare.\u201d \n\n\u201c What ! is the Madam Chesterly\u2019s son about to \nwed the minister\u2019s fair-headed daughter?\u201d asked Mrs. \nDawson, interrupting her companion. \n\n\u201c If you had given an honest woman breath to tell \nher own news, neighbour, and not snapped the words \nfrom her mouth, you might have heard as much. \nAs it is you may make your own tale and find hearers \nfor it.\u201d \n\nu And if there\u2019s not another wedding on the anvil, \nI don\u2019t know a woman\u2019s eye,\u201d said Dame Walford. \n * \n\n\n\u25a0 IB , .,4 \n\n\n\u25a0 \n\n\n^ \u25a0 \n\n\nIf \n\n\n\u2019 t- \n\n\n* k x \n\n\n> # \n\n\ni ' \n\n\n, \n\n. i \n\n\n/ \n\n\n... . \n\n\n- 4 \u2022 \n\n\n.\u25a0 . * \u00ab\u2022\u2022 \n\n\n/ \u2022 \u2022\u2022 \n\n... 4 \n\n\n\" . ' rP \n\n\n3 6234 00022389 4 \n\n\ny- \n\n\nV \n\n\n\u00a5 \n\n\n>","title":"The witch of New England : a romance","tradition":"Witchcraft & Wicca History","translated_text":null,"word_count":72392}