Herbert was here interrupted by the call of some persons upon business which might detain him some time, to the great annoyance of the little party. A pleasant conversation, however, commenced upon the influence of superstition over mankind throughout all ages of the world. “Even in our enlightened age,” said Mrs. Wilson, “we find many who are slaves to superstition in some of its various forms, but its influence is milder and gradually decreasing. Within a century and a half persons whose minds were enlightened, of undoubted piety, and who would have smiled in derision at the superstitious observances of the ancient Romans, professed full faith in witchcraft, that most terrific of all delusions.” “Oh,” said Mary, “I never hear the relation of those times without a shudder. What could have been the cause of such frightful credulity?” “It is shrouded in mystery,” said Mrs. Wilson, “and, probably, in this world we shall never know. Let us be thankful that no vestiges of such infatuation are left, but the sad spot where so many victims to its maddening influence perished.” “Even here,” said Elizabeth, “we are not exempted from this universal passion; we, too, have had our renowned fortune teller.” “Oh, yes,” said Susan, “I overheard Phoebe, the other day, gravely recounting the wonderful predictions of this redoubtable Sybil.” “Was Moll Pitcher a Sybil?” said Charles. “She would have passed for one in ancient times, Charles,” said his mother, “and, with her shrewd countenance and small, black eyes, aided by her red cloak and hood, might, I think, have played her part quite respectably. Her dwelling, too, would be appropriate for such a character; desolate and dreary, at the foot of the high rock, and embellished with a tall memento of one of the monsters of the ocean, the rib of a whale. I will read some lines upon her name and character by some witty poet of the day:
MOLL PITCHER
“Ah! dost thou laugh at the familiar name?
Deride and ridicule her world-wide fame?
Dost jest at sorcery and witchcraft’s power,
At whose dread magic even wise men cower?
Laugh, if you will; the time has long gone by
When Moll would change your laugh into a cry.
Know, daring sceptic, that in days of yore
No thoughtless wight ventured to brave her power.