An object is venerable, whether it be a person, a building, a locality, or any thing else, around which associations gather, that inspire reverence. Age, in itself, suggests the sentiment, if its natural effect is not marred by unworthiness; so does wisdom. Virtue is venerable, whatever the age. So are all great traits of character; and so is every thing that brings to the mind consecrated thoughts and impressions. There was much in Mather's ancestry, name, and office, to suggest the term, without any regard whatever to his years. If applied to him by the people of that day, or by a writer now, in reference to any period of his life after entering the ministry and being classed with the Elders of the Church and the land, it was entirely legitimate and appropriate.

While acknowledging the one error, detected by the Reviewer, I avail myself of the opportunity to apprise those who have my book of a probable error, not discovered by him. In Vol. II., p. 208, the name of "Elizabeth Carey" is given among those for whose arrest Warrants were issued, on the twenty-eighth of May, 1692. On page 238, the name "Elizabeth Cary" is again mentioned. The facts are, that Calef, (p. 95,) says: "May 24th: Mrs. Carey, of Charlestown, was examined and committed. Her husband, Mr. Nathaniel Carey, has given account thereof, as also of her escape, to this effect." He then gives a letter going into much interesting detail, evidently written by her husband, and signed "Jonathan Carey." Hutchinson (History, ii., 49,) repeats Calef's account, calling the woman, "Elizabeth, wife of Nathaniel;" and gives the substance of her husband's letter, without attempting to explain, or even noticing, the discrepancy as to the name of the husband. Not knowing what to make of it, I examined the miscellaneous mass of papers, in the Clerk's office, and found, on a small scrip, the original Complaint, on which the Warrant was issued. It is the only paper, relating to the case, in existence, or at least to be found here. In it, the woman is described as "Elizabeth, the wife of Capt. Nathaniel Carey of Charlestown, mariner." This seemed to settle it and I let it pass, without attempting to explain how "Jonathan Carey" came to appear as the husband of the woman, in the letter signed by that name. I am now quite convinced that, in this case, I was misled, together with Calef and Hutchinson, by paying too much regard to "original sources." I am satisfied that the authority of the letter of "Jonathan Carey," must stand; that the woman was his wife, "Hannah;" and that the error is in the original "Complaint," here on file.

The facts, probably, were, that, it being rumored in Charlestown that a Mrs. Carey was "cried out upon," without its being known which Mrs. Carey it was, Jonathan, determined to meet the matter at the threshold, took his wife directly to the spot. He arrived at Salem Village, in the midst of a great excitement, bringing together a crowd of people, half crazed under the terrors of the hour. Nobody knew him, which would not have been so likely to have been the case with his brother, Nathaniel, who was a more conspicuous character. He could find no one he knew, except Mr. Hale, who was formerly a Charlestown man, and whom he soon lost in the confusion of the scene. The accusing girls were on the look out, and noticing these two strangers, enquired their names, and were told, Mr. and Mrs. Carey. They had been crying out upon Elizabeth Carey, and thinking they had her, informed Thomas Putnam and Benjamin Hutchinson, two persons perfectly deluded by them, who instantly drew up the Complaint. In the hurry and horrors of the moment, the error in the names was not discovered: Jonathan and Hannah were sent forthwith to prison, from which they broke, and escaped to New York. The girls, thinking they had got Mrs. Elizabeth Carey in prison, said no more about it. As Jonathan and his wife were safe, and beyond reach, the whole matter dropped out of the public mind; and Mrs. Elizabeth remained undisturbed. This is the only way in which I can account for the strange incongruity of the statements, as found in the "Complaint," Calef, and Hutchinson. The letter of Jonathan Carey is decisive of the point that it was "Hannah," his wife, that was arrested, and escaped. The error in Calef was not discovered by him, as his book was printed in London; and, under the general disposition to let the subject pass into oblivion, if possible, no explanation was ever given.

I cannot let the letter of Jonathan Carey pass, without calling to notice his statement that, upon reaching New York, they found "His Excellency, Benjamin Fletcher, Esq., very courteous" to them. Whatever multiplies pleasant historical reminiscences and bonds of association between different States, ought to be gathered up and kept fresh in the minds of all. The fact that when Massachusetts was suffering from a fiery and bloody, but brief, persecution by its own Government, New York opened so kind and secure a shelter for those fortunate enough to escape to it, ought to be forever held in grateful remembrance by the people of the old Bay State, and constitutes a part of the history of the Empire State, of which she may well be proud. If the historians and antiquaries of the latter State can find any traces, in their municipal or other archives, or in any quarter, of the refuge which the Careys and others found among them, in 1692, they would be welcome contributions to our history, and strengthen the bonds of friendly union.

The Reviewer seems to imagine that, by a stroke of his pen, he can, at any time, make history. Referring to Governor Winthrop, in connection with the case of Margaret Jones, forty-two years before, he says that he "presided at her Trial; signed her Death-warrant; and wrote the report of the case in his journal." The fact that, in his private journal, he has a paragraph relating to it, hardly justifies the expression "wrote the report of the case." Where did he, our Reviewer, find authority for the positive statement that Winthrop "signed the Death-warrant?" We have no information, I think, as to the use of Death-warrants, as we understand such documents to be, in those days; and especially are we ignorant as to the official who drew and signed the Order for the execution of a capital convict. Sir William Phips, although present, did not sign the Death-warrant of Bridget Bishop.

The Reviewer expresses, over and over again, his great surprise at the view given in my book of Cotton Mather's connection with Salem witchcraft. It is quite noticeable that his language, to this effect, was echoed through that portion of the Press committed to his statements. My sentiments were spoken of as "surprising errors." What I had said was, as I have shown, a mere continuation of an ever-received opinion; and it was singular that it gave such a widespread simultaneous shock of "surprise." But that shock went all around. I was surprised at their surprise; and may be allowed, as well as the Reviewer, to express and explain that sensation. It was awakened deeply and forcibly by the whole tenor of his article. He was the first reader of my book, it having been furnished him by the Publishers before going to the binder. He wrote an elaborate, extended, and friendly notice of it, in a leading paper of New York city, kindly calling it "a monument of historical and antiquarian research;" "a narrative as fascinating as the latest novel;" and concluding thus: "Mr. Upham deserves the thanks of the many persons interested in psychological inquiries, for the minute details he has given of these transactions." Some criticisms were suggested, in reference to matters of form in the work; but not one word was said about Cotton Mather. The change that has come over the spirit of his dream is more than surprising.

The reference, in the foregoing citation, to "psychological enquiries," suggests to me to allude, before closing, to remarks made by some other critics. I did not go into the discussion, with any particularity, of the connection, if any, between the witchcraft developments of 1692 and modern spiritualism, in any of its forms. A fair and candid writer observes that "the facts and occurrences," as I state them, involve difficulties which I "have not solved." There are "depths," he continues, "in this melancholy episode, which his plummet has not sounded, by a great deal." This is perfectly true.

With a full conviction that the events and circumstances I was endeavoring to relate, afforded more material for suggestions, in reference to the mysteries of our spiritual nature, than any other chapter in history, I carefully abstained, with the exception of a few cautionary considerations hinting at the difficulties that encompass the subject, from attempting to follow facts to conclusions, in that direction. My sole object was to bring to view, as truthfully, thoroughly, and minutely, as I could, the phenomena of the case, as bare historical facts, from which others were left, to make their own deductions. This was the extent of the service I desired to render, in aid of such as may attempt to advance the boundaries of the spiritual department of science. I was content, and careful, to stay my steps. Feeling that the story I was telling led me along the outer edge of what is now knowledge—that I was treading the shores of the ultima Thule, of the yet discovered world of truth—I did not venture upon the world beyond. My only hope was to afford some data to guide the course of those who may attempt to traverse it. Other hands are to drop the plummet into its depths, and other voyagers feel their way over its surface to continents that are waiting, as did this Western Hemisphere, for ages upon ages, to be revealed. The belief that fields of science may yet be reached, by exploring the connection between the corporeal and spiritual spheres of our being, in which explorations the facts presented in the witchcraft Delusion may be serviceable, suggested one of the motives that led me to dedicate my volumes to the Professor of Physiology in Harvard University.

The Reviewer concludes his article by saying that the "History of Salem witchcraft is as yet unwritten," but, that I must write it; and he tells me how to write it. He advises a more concise form, although his whole article consists of complaints because I avoided discussions and condensed documents, which, if fully gone into and spread out at length, would have swelled the dimensions of the work, as well as broken the thread of the narrative. It must be borne in mind, that a reader can only be held to the line of a subject, by an occasional retrospection and reiteration of what must be constantly kept in view. The traveler needs, at certain points and suitable stages, to turn and survey the ground over which he has passed. A condensation that would strike out such recapitulations and repetitions, might impair the effect of a work of any kind, particularly, of one embracing complicated materials.

The Reviewer says that, "by all means, I must give references to authorities," when I quote. This, as a general thing, is good advice. But it must be remembered that my work consists of three divisions. The History of Salem Village constitutes the First. This is drawn, almost wholly, from papers in the offices of registry, and from judicial files of the County, to which references would be of little use, and serve only to cumber and deform the pages. Everything can be verified by inspection of the originals, and not otherwise. The Second Part is a cursory, general, abbreviated sketch or survey of the history of opinions, not designed as an authoritative treatise for special students, but to prepare the reader for the Third Part, the authorities for which are, almost wholly, Court files.