The colony was now fated to suffer from a delusion more frantic and insane than any it had hitherto admitted, and which compromised its very existence. The New Englanders had brought with them the belief in witchcraft prevalent among the early reformers, and the wild and savage wilderness where their lot was now cast tended to deepen the impressions of superstition upon their minds. Two young girls, of the family of Mr. Paris, minister of Salem, were suddenly afflicted with a singular complaint, probably of an hysterical character, which baffled the united skill of the neighboring physicians; till one, more decided than the rest, declared that the sufferers were bewitched. From this time prayers and fasting were the remedies adopted, and the whole town of Salem at length joined in a day of humiliation. The patients, however, did not improve, till an Indian servingwoman denounced another, named Tituba, as the author of the evil. Mr. Paris assailed the accused, and tortured her in the view of extracting a confession of guilt, which she at length made, with many absurd particulars, hoping to appease her persecutor. From this time the mischievous folly spread wider; a respectable clergyman, Mr. Burroughs, was tried for witchcraft on the evidence of five women, and condemned to death, his only defense being that he was accused of that which had no existence, and was impossible. New charges multiplied daily; the jails of Salem were full of the accused, and prisoners were transferred to other towns, where the silly infection spread, and filled the whole colony with alarm.