There are two entrances to this cavern, both leading to an interior, subterranean chamber, whose vaulted roof is thickly studded with pear-shaped protuberances that are said to shine and sparkle when the flame of a torch sheds a ruddy glow upon them. According to popular tradition the path leading to the cavern was always kept open, summer and winter. Many years ago the poet Whittier put the legend into verse:-- “’Tis said that this cave is an evil place-- The chosen haunt of a fallen race-- That the midnight traveller oft hath seen A red flame tremble its jaws between, And lighten and quiver the boughs among, Like the fiery play of a serpent’s tongue: That sounds of fear from its chambers swell-- The ghostly gibber,--the fiendish yell; That bodiless hands at the entrance wave-- And hence they have named it the Demon’s Cave.” The persistent life of such local traditions as these fully attests to the belief of former generations of men in the active agency of the Evil One in human affairs. And not only this, but this omnipresent devil has actually left his mark, legibly stamped, in so many places, and his name in so many others, that to doubt his actual presence were not only unreasonable but ungenerous. Even his footprints are found here and there, yet strange to say, few represent a cloven foot. The sonorous names, Devil’s Pulpit and Devil’s Cartway, are found within a few miles of each other on the coast of Maine. Moreover, do we not know from a perusal of the testimony given at the celebrated witchcraft trials, that the arch-fiend had been both seen and spoken with _in propria persona_? It used to be a not uncommon threat with quick-tempered people to say that if their wishes or expectations were not gratified to their liking, they would “haunt you” when they died. I myself have often heard this expression used either in jest or in earnest; and when used it never failed to leave a disagreeable impression on the listener.