The prosecuting attorney had been vigilant in the management of his case. No one event of Barbara Stafford's life, since she landed in Boston, had escaped him. Jason Brown and his wife took the witness stand next. The honest sailor was prejudiced against the prisoner. He solemnly believed that she had turned his own peaceful home into a den of iniquity, and made it the centre of a fearful witch-gathering. His frank, honest face, and profound self-conviction, aided his words powerfully. Yes, he knew the woman. She came over from England in the same vessel with him. During the voyage he had seen her cheerful, and easily pleased. She always had a sweet look and kind word for every one on the ship, till all hands on board, even to the cabin boy, almost worshipped her. Still no one ever knew from whence she came, or what business she had in the new country. She had plenty of gold, and gave it liberally to all who served her. Brown had never seen any thing very remarkable in her conduct while on ship board; sometimes he heard her singing in the cabin, and often, as the sun went down, he had seen her gazing westward with a bright, hopeful countenance, as if she expected some great happiness in that direction. When the storm rose and drove them furiously toward the land, Barbara Stafford came on deck with her cloak on, and seemed to glory in braving the tempest, which swept her so furiously coastward. She was fearless of danger, and exulted in every fierce plunge of the vessel, which made even tried sailors turn pale. At last they came in sight of the harbor, but were compelled to cast anchor, the heave and swell of the ocean were so tumultuous. As the vessel lay there, tugging like a chained beast at its hausers, with a heavy fog drifting over it, and red clouds heaped up in the west, this woman had pleaded with him to let down a boat and put her on shore--anywhere, so that her feet touched the soil of America. She offered a handful of golden guineas to several of the men, but they all refused, holding the attempt to be certain death. How he was persuaded to let down the boat, unless impelled by the witchery in her look and voice, it was impossible for him to say. Certainly he did it, and not for the gold, for he only took one piece. The boat was dashed to pieces, and but for that God-fearing man, Samuel Parris, and young Lovel, every living soul in it would have been lost. In answer to the question if he knew any thing more of the prisoner's practices in witchcraft, Jason Brown replied: