the persons, in confederacy with the Devil, thus torturing, pinching, convulsing, and bringing to the last extremities of mortal agony, these afflicted girls. Every one felt, that, if the guilty authors of the mischief could not be discovered, and put out of the way, no one was safe for a moment. At length, when the girls cried out upon Good, Osburn, and Tituba, there was a general sense of satisfaction and relief. It was thought that Satan's power might be checked. The selection of the first victims was well made. They were just the kind of persons whom the public prejudice and credulity were prepared to suspect and condemn. Their examination was looked for with the utmost interest, and all flocked to witness the proceedings. In considering the state of mind of the people, as they crowded into and around the old meeting-house, we can have no difficulty in realizing the[ii.35] tremendous effects of what there occurred. It was felt that then, on that spot, the most momentous crisis in the world's history had come. A crime, in comparison with which all other crimes sink out of notice, was being notoriously and defiantly committed in their midst. The great enemy of God and man was let loose among them. What had filled the hearts of mankind for ages, the world over, with dread apprehension, was come to pass; and in that village the great battle, on whose issue the preservation of the kingdom of the Lord on the earth was suspended, had begun. Indeed, no language, no imagery, no conception of ours, can adequately express the feeling of awful and terrible solemnity with which all were overwhelmed. No body of men ever convened in a more highly wrought state of excitement than pervaded that assembly, when the magistrates entered, in all their stern authority, and the scene opened on the 1st of March, 1692. A minister, probably Mr. Parris, began, according to the custom of the times, with prayer. From what we know of his skill and talent in meeting such occasions, it may well be supposed that his language and manner heightened still more the passions of the hour. The marshal, of tall and imposing stature and aspect, accompanied by his constables, brought in the prisoners. Sarah Good, a poverty-stricken, wandering, and wretched victim of ill-fortune and ill-usage, was put to the bar. Every effort was made by the examining magistrate, aided by the officious interference of the marshal, or other deluded or[ii.36] evil-disposed persons,—who, like him, were permitted to interpose with charges or abusive expressions,—to overawe and confound, involve in contradictions, and mislead the poor creature, and force her to confess herself guilty and accuse others. In due time, the "afflicted children" were brought in; and a scene ensued, such as no person in that crowd or in that generation had ever witnessed before. Immediately on being confronted with the prisoner, and meeting her eye, they fell, as if