In the evening the hut was prepared at some distance from the houses on account of the stink, as the spirits cannot or will not endure any pollution. The hut consisted of ten poles about seven feet out of ground, well stuck in, and somewhat better than three feet diameter. The Poles were secured with two hoops. They were covered with two parchment skins (of moose) well bound with many rounds of strong leather line. The top was covered with a dressed skin and secured also, to prevent its being carried off (by the wind).
About 10 P.M. (still broad daylight with us) we drew up with the conjurer, smoked and chatted some time. After this he took his drum, much resembling a tambourine, and with a stick gently struck it all the time he made a speech. I was almost touching him (all seated) but from the noise of the drum and his low voice, for the man has a dreadful complaint on his lungs, I could only gather, "Take pity upon me; take pity upon me. Hear and come. Let me not speak in vain, nor become abashed. Show me charity. ..." It was a moderate and decent prayer. After this they, for there were several men, began to sing using the drum and rattler. They sang, among others, the Moose, Horse, Bear, and Dog songs, about a dozen in number.
[Then] he prepared by taking off his clothes, all to his cloute, and asked who should tie him. I replied that I would, but was afraid of hurting him. Another conjurer did, beginning with his fingers between the 2 joints nearest the hand, nearly as I can describe it, thus giving a double turn to the line between each finger. And the line was new mackerel, small, which I happened to have in my pocket by accident. I drew up to inspect. And observing the fingers to swell upon his complaining of the tightness, I felt a good deal for him.
After this his blanket was wrapped round him and tied in such a manner, lengthways, crossways and every way. And a good knot I tied at each meeting of the cords, for I assisted in this, that I could have laid any wager that it was beyond the power of spirits themselves, thus tied, to [extricate] themselves. And his hands were under his hams. As he could no more move than fly, of himself, the other conjurer and I put him to the door. But behold it was with difficulty! We could just get his head in, the entry being too narrow by about ten or twelve inches screwing and jaming considered.
"It will do, it will do." said the conjurer, "Cover me now."
His back was covered with a blanket, and we all retreated to our seats, myself about four feet distant. The others took the drum and began to sing.
I could not help but laughing in myself and pitying the boldness of their vanity. But I had soon occasion to think otherwise, and had I not predetermined that reason should conduct me throughout the whole of this, I cannot say how far in the other extreme I might have gone.
But to return: The conjurer desired the others to sing. They began a short song, I believe it was that of the Stone, and the man entered in an instant! I was struck dumb with astonishment, for he appeared to me to slide in by something that was neither invisible nor descernible. I heard something that, for the life of me, I cannot account for, and that's all.
From the time we covered him (twenty-five minutes past 10 P.M.) to the time we had done hunting for the twine that tied his fingers, not quite five minutes elapsed. And not one and a half minutes [passed] before his blanket and the cords were thrown out to us! Not one of them, apparently (one knot) untied! My astonishment and apprehensions of his being entirely carried off from us were such that I was nearly springing up to haul him out for fear of his being forever lost.
The others continued singing a few other songs, and I had the utmost anxiety in hearing [him] repeatedly call out, as if in the greatest apprehensions himself, "Enough! Enough! Enough of ye I say!", and frequently for the space of some minutes repeating the same, and now and then calling out, "Do not Thou enter!"