"Now we'll watch it," Bor said with cold finality. "I think my ancestor out there, Jonathan Borden would be proud of me," he added with a trace of smugness.
"... as we watched, it seemed suddenly our vision blurred and there was the smell of brimstone in the aire and when we could see againe, there in the place of comely young Abigaile Goodyeare, was a wrinkled gruesome crone, more like unto a spectre, with gray hair and wrinkled visage, whose true age could only be guessed at."
—WITCHCRAFT IN EARLY AMERICA
VOLUME II, CHAPTER 4