She was apprehended about the end of August 1649, upon some threatening words she had spoken in her drunkenness to John Ranken’s wife in Kilwinning, whereupon the poor woman, ten days after, took sickness and died. She was imprisoned in the steeple for thirteen weeks, all which time I, the minister, repaired to her, but found her still more and more obdured; in all her discourses she was so subtle, that not only I could get no advantage by her words, but sometimes she made me think that she was an innocent woman; so that I was grieved for her hard usage, if it could have been helped, and had my own secret wishes she had never been meddled with. Yea, if she could have made an escape, I being innocent of it, I could have been glad; for I feared much, that all that we could get proven on her, would not have been a sufficient ground for the civil magistrate to give a warrant for putting her to an assize. Or, if they had given a warrant, I feared the assize would not condemn her, unless I had advised them thereto, wherein I was not clear, so that she would have been set at liberty, and I blamed for it by reason of my not advising the assize to condemn her. At this nick of time, one Alexander Bogs, skilled in searching the mark, came, being often sent for, and finds the mark on the middle of her back, wherein he thrust a great brass pin, of which she was not sensible, neither did any blood follow when the pin was drawn out. I looked upon this but as a small evidence in respect of what I found afterwards; yet this somewhat inclined the judges to send the process to Edinburgh, though there were small hopes of obtaining a commission for putting her to an assize. My fears deceived me; for I was informed that a commission was granted, though with difficulty: But here my strait was augmented; for the chiefest man in the parish refused to meet, professing he thought all that was proven on her were but clatters; and I was informed that others of the judges did say little less; however, I myself could not think her guilty: Yet if the assize had put her to it, I was not so clear to advise them, by reason that the things were proven but by one witness. This put me to many thoughts and prayers, wherein I did engage myself to God, that if he would find me out a way for giving me and the assize full clearness, either by her own confession or otherwise, I should remark it as a singular favour, and a special mercy. This resolution I did often reiterate, “Lord make me mindful of it.” After a short time providence brought to light an unexpected presumption of her guiltiness, which did convince me more than any of the rest. Upon Wednesday the 28th of November, in the evening, I went to exhort her to a confession, with Alexander Simpson the kirk-officer, and my own servant with me. After labouring with her in vain, we left her; but when I came to the stair-head, I resolved to halt a little, to hear what she would say. Within a very short space, she begins to discourse as if it had been to somebody with her. Her voice was so low, that I could not understand what she said, except one sentence, whereby I perceived she was speaking of somewhat I had been challenging her of, and she had denied. After she had spoken this, after a little while, I heard another voice speaking and whispering, as it were conferring with her, which presently I apprehended to be the foul fiend’s voice: but being uncertain, if those that were with me had heard it, so as they could give testimony concerning it, and not daring to ask them, least she hearing our whispering, should have spoken no more, I resolved to stand a little longer, she having kept silence a time, upon occasion as I thought of some little din amongst us, at our hearing of an uncouth voice; she began to speak again, and before she had well ended, the other voice speaketh as it were a long sentence, which though I understood not what it was, yet it was so low and ghostly, that I was certainly persuaded that it was another voice than her’s. Besides, her accent and manner of speaking was as if she had been speaking to some other; and that other voice, to my best remembrance, did begin before she had ended, so that two voices were to be heard at once.—By this time fear took hold on Alexander Simpson, being hindmost in the stair, and thereby he cries out. I did exhort him with a loud voice not to fear; and we came all of us down the stair, blessing God that had given me such a clearness in the business. They both who were with me declared, they had heard the uncouth voice both the times. Within a quarter of an hour I went up again, with two or three able men with me, and brought her down to the school, having placed six men to watch, where she remains at the time of my writing hereof, November 30, obstinate and obdured, and I fear she shall be so to her death.
Some special Providence I observed in all these.
First, That however we knew nothing at our first apprehending of her, but only that she was of a bad report, and had some boasting words to John Rankin’s wife, after which she died shortly; yet partly more and more light brake up, until so many presumptions were proven on her, as the civil magistrate did judge it equitable to put her to an assize. Secondly, That Alexander Bogs came and found the mark upon her, at the very nick of time when there was an inclination to let her go free, which, though it did not say much, yet it was a mean to keep her still in prison. Thirdly, That a commission was granted upon more slender grounds than any which had been granted before; and that the Lord keeped up the greatest evidence of her guilt, until the commission was obtained, and the day for the assize appointed. Fourthly, That the commission being granted, I was in a great strait what to do, no less being presented to me than her blood-guiltiness, if I should advise to condemn her, and the sparing of an enemy to God, if I should not advise; this made the mercy in giving me so full clearing the more acceptable. Fifthly, That God did make all other means misgive which I did use, until he should clear me by these whereby more of himself was seen. Sixthly, That before he gave me clearing, I was made to engage myself to a special observation of his most remarkable providences towards me. Seventhly, That I had often thoughts to use the means of trying her, by going to watch in the night, if I could hear the devil and her conferring together, but was always hindered until this time having no such resolution when I was coming out from her, but only a present purpose to stand a little, not thinking to hear any thing of this kind; and if she had not presently begun to speak, I would have gone away. Eighthly, That I myself was present at the hearing of their conference; if it had been in any other, I would neither have been so fully satisfied myself, nor yet others who should hear of it. Ninthly, That not only I, but two with me, did hear also, which will make a legal proof. Tenthly, That I was borne up with courage all the time, acting faith in God, that the foul spirit should not do us harm, though he was so near unto us. Eleventhly, That I heard as much as did give full clearing that it was another voice, though I could not get any of the words understood. The Lord thinking it sufficient to loose me out of the strait, though he would not satisfy my curiosity. Twelthly, though I could not get the words understood, yet there was as much evidence, as made it clearly appear it was another voice than hers.
As, 1st, That we heard twice. And, 2dly, Three of us did so think. 3dly, That I was in courage, and so my judgment not jumbled by any fearful apprehensions. 4thly, That the accent and way of her discourse, and in what we did understand of it, was not after the manner how one regrets a thing to himself, but of one conferring with another. 5thly, That the other voice was to my certain hearing of a different accent from her’s, so hollow and ghostly, that it was as easy for me to put a difference between them in the mean time, as between the voice of a man and the voice of a child. 6thly, That to my best remembrance the uncouth voice began before she ended, so that two voices were to be heard at once. Lastly, A. Simpson understood their language, and afterward did depone the words judicially.——It is good (1) For folk to hold on in doing of duty, though they forsee unsuperable difficulties before they come to the end of it. Let a man go on till he come to the difficulty, and ere he come that far on, God will remove it. (2) ’Tis good in asking mercies to engage the heart to some duties of thankfulness, upon the granting them. (3) How zealous is the devil to get souls damned, that though he be of an excellent substance, of great natural parts, long experience, deep understanding, yet he will so far enslave himself to poor miscreant bodies as to be ready at their call, to discourse and keep company with them, that at the last he may get them. How serviceable and trusty soever the devil seems to be unto witches, yet he cares not to ensnare them at the last; for he could not but know that we were waiting on to hear him and her; so that he had on purpose entered into discourse with her, that she might be taken in the grin.
I come to some other remarkable passages concerning Elizabeth Graham before her death, giving evidence that she was most guilty of witchcraft, though she died obstinate, and would not confess. Upon Saturday night, November 13, she seemed to incline to a confession, and promised to William Watt, to tell me to-morrow after sermon all that was in her heart. At which time, I had none with me but William Watt. When I spoke with her, she regretted her mispent time, but especially her malice towards myself, which she affirmed the devil tempted her to. All which time she spake with a very low voice, that although I desired her to speak out, we could scarce hear her. Whereupon I inquired the reason why she was not able to speak louder? She replied, “That when she set herself to speak any thing that was for her soul’s good, she dought not get spoken.” These were her words. “But if she would scold and flyte as she used to do, the devil would give her strength enough to speak as loud as ever she did.” Within a little I posed her if she was guilty of witchcraft: She stared with her eyes by me, first to the one side, and then to the other; at which time, I certainly think that she saw the devil; for immediately after, she began to rail upon me, although she had confessed her malice at me was partly the cause of her greatest grief, and still as she went on in railing, her voice became stronger and stronger, till at last she spoke as loud as ever she did.
Upon Monday before noon, she was most bitter in her language. I posed her what grounds of confidence she had, if it would be well with her soul? She answered, “She had no grounds yet; for she had lived a wicked woman, and had not yet repented; but she hoped she would get heaven, and get repentance, and a change would be wrought in her; and though she was to live but a short while, she was sure of it, and that I would soon see it.” I thought in the mean time, she had spoken that in her rage. But after I perceived the devil and she had a further design in it, as appears by what follows. That same day afternoon, they came and told me, that she had fallen to pray, and had many gracious words, expressing her own vileness, and the sense she had of God’s mercy, and with tears: In which strain she continued till after supper. I came then to see her, at which time she was continuing still as before, aggravating her sin and guilt, and shewing her hopes of salvation, and desire to die. And all along, she had such pithy expressions, and Scripture so often, and plentifully cited, that I was put to wonder, considering that I ever had found her altogether ignorant of the grounds of religion, both before, and after she was put into prison.
After I had wondered at it a while, without speaking to her, considering what she had foretold so confidently before noon, I concluded in my mind, that it was a draught between the devil and her, to feign repentance in such an odd way, that we might be deceived; being made to think that she was not a witch, else she would confess it, seeing God had given her repentance.—Whereupon, seriously considering the matter, I posed her of guiltiness; she confessed all the particulars of the process, which did not certainly conclude her to be a witch; but the rest of the particulars she denied, as also the crime of witchcraft itself. However, she said, “She knew she would die, and desired not to live; and she thought we would be free before God of her blood, because that, however she was free, yet there were so many things deponed against her, that though it was hard for us to think otherwise of her than we did, yet she knew well enough her own innocence.” Thus I have written all those particulars, as I found them in the authentic record, written by the minister’s own hand. She was soon after executed, and died without any acknowledgment of witchcraft.