Ye Lyttle Salem Maide: A Story of Witchcraft — John Shaqi
Ye Lyttle Salem Maide: A Story of WitchcraftMackie, Pauline Bradford
History
Ye Lyttle Salem Maide: A Story of Witchcraft
Mackie, Pauline Bradford
Salem (Mass.) -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction; Trials (Witchcraft) -- Fiction
Over two centuries ago a little Puritan maiden might have been seen
passing along the Indian path which led from out Salem Town to her home.
It was near the close of day. The solemn twilight of the great primeval
forest was beginning to fall. But the little maid tripped lightly on,
unawed, untroubled. From underneath her snowy linen cap, with its stiffly
starched ear-flaps, hung the braid of her hair, several shades more
golden than the hue of her gown. Over one arm she carried her woollen
stockings and buckled shoon.
A man, seated near the path on the trunk of a fallen tree of such
gigantic girth that his feet swung off the ground, although he was a
person of no inconsiderable size, hailed her as she neared him. “Where do
you wend your way in such hasty fashion, little mistress?”
She paused and bobbed him a very fine courtesy, such as she had been
taught in the Dame School, judging him to be an important personage by
reason of his sword with its jewelled hilt and his plumed hat. “I be
sorely hungered, good sir,” she replied, “and I ken that Goody Higgins
has a bowl o’ porridge piping hot for me in the chimney corner.” Her
dimpled face grew grave; her eyelids fell. “When one for a grievous sin,”
she added humbly, “has stood from early morn till set o’ sun on a block
o’ wood beside the town-pump, and has had naught to eat in all that time,
one hungers much.”
“And would they put a maid like you up for public punishment?” cried the
Cavalier. “By my faith, these Puritans permit no children. They would
have them saints, lisping brimstone and wrestling with Satan!”
“Hush, hush!” cried the little maid, affrighted. “Ye must not say that
word lest the Devil answer to his name.” She pointed to where the sunset
glimmered red behind the trees. “Do ye not ken that when the sun be set,
the witches ride on broomsticks? After dark all good children stay in the
house.”
“Ho, ho!” laughed the stranger; “and have you a law that witches must not
ride on broomsticks? You Puritans had best be wary lest they ride your
nags to death at night and you take away their broomsticks.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account