“As ye ken,” continued the old yeoman, “the Devil be most often a black man, but this time he was o’ fair colour, attired in most ungodly fashion in a gay velvet dooblet wi’ high boots. So ta’en up wi’ watching o’ the wickedness o’ Deliverance Wentworth was I, that I clean forgot myself——” The speaker, shuddering, paused. “Lose not precious time,” admonished the chief justice, sternly. “O’ a sudden I near died o’ fright,” moaned the old yeoman. A tremor as at something supernatural passed over the people. “Ay,” continued the witness, “wi’ mine very een, I beheld the prisoner turn an’ run towards her hame, whilst the Devil rose an’ come doone the path towards me, Bartholomew Stiles!” “And then?” queried the chief justice, impatiently. “It was too late to hide, an’ I be no spry a’ running. Plump o’ my marrow-boones I dropped, an’ closed my een an’ prayed wi’ a loud voice. I heard Satan draw near. He stopped aside me. ‘Ye old silly,’ says he, ‘be ye gane daffy?’ Ne’er word answered I, but prayed the louder. I heard the vision take a lang draught o’ milk from the bucket wi’ a smackin’ o’ his lips. Then did Satan deal me an ungentle kick an’ went on doon the path.” “Said he naught further?” asked one of the judges. “Nae word more, worships,” replied the yeoman. “I ha’ the caution not to open my een for a lang bit o’ time. Then I saw that what milk remained i’ the bucket out o’ which Satan drank, had turned black, an’ I ha’ some o’ it here to testify to the sinfu’ company kept by Deliverance Wentworth.” From his pocket the old yeoman carefully drew a small bottle filled with a black liquid, and, in his shaking hand, extended it to the judge nearest him. Solemnly the judge took it and drew out the cork. “It has the smell of milk,” he said, “but milk which has clabbered;” and he passed it to his neighbour. “It has the look of clabbered milk,” assented the second judge. “Beshrew me, but it is clabbered milk,” asserted the third judge; “methinks ’twould be wisdom to keep the bottle corked, lest the once good milk, now a malignant fluid, be spilled on one of us and a tiny drop do great evil.” Thus the bottle was passed from one judicial nose to the other, and then given to the Beadle, who set it carefully on the table. There may be seen to this day in Salem a bottle containing the pins which were drawn from the bodies of those who were victims of witches. But the bottle which stood beside it for over a century was at last thrown away, as it was empty save for a few grains of some powder or dust. Little did they who flung it away realize that that pinch of grayish dust was the remains of the milk, which Satan, according to Bartholomew Stiles, had bewitched, and which was a large factor in securing the condemnation of Deliverance Wentworth. The next witness was the minister who had conducted the services on the afternoon of that late memorable Sabbath, when the Devil had sought to destroy the meeting-house during a thunder-storm.