In Dr. Whitaker's astonishment that Margaret Johnson should make the confession she appears to have done, in a clear case of imposture, few of his readers will be disposed to participate, who are at all conversant with the trials of reputed witches in this country. Confessions were so common on those occasions, that there is, I believe, not a single instance of any great number of persons being convicted of witchcraft at one time, some of whom did not make a confession of guilt. Nor is there anything extraordinary in that circumstance, when it is remembered that many of them sincerely believed in the existence of the powers attributed to them; and others, aged and of weak understanding, were, in a measure, coerced by the strong persuasion of their guilt, which all around them manifested, into an acquiescence in the truth of the accusation. In many cases the confessions were made in the hope, and no doubt with the promise, seldom performed, that a respite from punishment would be eventually granted. In other instances, there is as little doubt, that they were the final results of irritation, agony, and despair.[61] The confessions are generally composed of "such stuff as dreams are made of," and what they report to have occurred, might either proceed, when there was no intention to fabricate, from intertwining the fantastic threads which sometimes stream upon the waking senses from the land of shadows, or be caused by those ocular hallucinations of which medical science has supplied full and satisfactory solution. There is no argument which so long maintained its ground in support of witchcraft as that which was founded on the confessions referred to. It was the last plank clung to by many a witch-believing lawyer and divine. And yet there is none which will less bear critical scrutiny and examination, or the fallacy of which can more easily be shown, if any particular reported confession is taken as a test and subjected to a searching analysis and inquiry. [Footnote 61: The confession in the "Amber Witch" is a true picture, drawn from the life. What is there, indeed, unlike truth in that wonderful fiction?] It is said that we owe to the grave and saturnine Monarch, who extended his pardon to the seventeen convicted in 1633, that happy generalisation of the term, which appropriates honourably to the sex in Lancashire the designation denoting the fancied crime of a few miserable victims of superstition. That gentle sex will never repudiate a title bestowed by one, little given to the playful sports of fancy, whose sorrows and unhappy fate have never wanted their commiseration, and who distinguished himself on this memorable occasion, at a period when "'twas the time's plague That madmen led the blind,"