The following is an amusing story, well told, but it is from newspaper authority, the Galaxy. About the year 1760, the fury of the inhabitants of New England had declined towards suspected old women, but their believing fear was not altogether quelled. At this time, a case of witchcraft occurred in Billerica, under the ministry of the Rev. Dr Cummings, who related the story with much satisfaction, as the last which came within his precincts.
An old woman, of very peaceable character, lived pretty much alone in a shell of a house near the meeting-house and the clergyman’s dwelling. She was suspected of witchcraft by a family who lived at two miles’ distance, in the west part of the town, and they brought accusation immediately to the parson; who in those early times, exercised not only the spiritual, but the temporal power of the parish; he was often counsel for both parties, and was judge and jury, without subjection to appeal. He was, moreover, a peace-maker. Mr C. accused Mrs D. of witchcraft. ‘How do you know she is a witch?’ ‘Because she has bewitched my mare.’ ‘How do you know that your mare is bewitched?’ ‘Because she won’t stand still to be saddled, and the minute I get on, she kicks up and throws me off.’ ‘But what makes you think that Mrs D. has bewitched her?’ No answer. ‘Have you had a quarrel with her?’ ‘Oh no! I have had no quarrel.’ ‘But what is the matter? surely she would not bewitch her for nothing.’ ‘Why I carried her some corn on the mare about a week ago, and I didn’t know but I might have made a mistake in the measure so that it fell short, and so’—‘And because your corn fell short, you suspect that she found it out, and is so angry as to bewitch your mare.’ ‘Yes, that’s it, and I want you to go and lay the devil.’ ‘Why, if you have raised the devil by cheating in the corn, you had better lay him yourself.’ ‘Yes, but I don’t know how.’ ‘Go then, directly, and carry the balance of the corn, and take good care never to commit such an act again: the devil is always busy with people who do not perform all their duties honestly.’ The man slunk away home at this unexpected rebuke, and failed not to carry corn enough to make full measure; which, however, he feared to carry into the house to the old woman, but emptied it down upon the door-stone. But the mare ceased to kick as usual; whereupon Mr C. came to the minister, told him what he had done, and begged for holy assistance. ‘Go home,’ said the parson, with all that energy for which he was so remarkable, ‘go home,—you need not trouble yourself about witches; I’ll not allow them to do any mischief, I assure you—do your duty, so as to escape a guilty conscience, and if your mare is refractory, whip her, as I do mine—go, and let me hear no more about witches.’ Mr C. obeyed, but he was far from convinced that Mrs D. was not a witch, and he determined to put it to the proof. For this purpose he boiled a large potato, which he put directly from the boiling water, under the bewitched mare’s saddle. The caperings and kickings of the poor beast were excusable this time, at least, for when after some hours the saddle was got off, it was found that a severe mark was left behind it. The proof of the matter was to be this; if the old woman had bewitched the mare, she would have the same mark of a burn on her back. Two old women were prevailed on to be of the examining committee. Dr Cummings was requested to be of the party, with his Bible at hand, to prevent any fatal explosion from Satan’s nostrils. This office he prudently declined. His place was supplied by another old woman, and Saturday night was appointed for this examination. This time was chosen, because the good people thought that Satan would not visit in holy hours. In the meantime, the good woman got an inkling of what was going on; and as they entered a long dark entry, they were saluted with a stupendous flash of powder and tow, and a glorious clatter of tin pans. The committee was scattered of course—and before church the next day, everybody in the town knew, that the devil came, all covered with blue brimstone, to save his disciple, the wicked Mrs D. This would have made a new era in witchcraft in the town, but for the pertinent remarks of the parson touching the matter; for he was enabled to dispense a word in season.
It is but a few years since, a farmer at Kennebunk, observing his cattle to be affected with some fatal disease, conceived the idea that they were bewitched, and fixed his suspicion on a poor widow who had become insane in consequence of the death of her husband at sea. He was so confident of her guilt, that he went to her lonely cottage, and with his ox goad, beat and abused her in a cruel manner. It is not under our salutary laws that a crime so atrocious can pass with impunity. The culprit was prosecuted and received the merited punishment.
The family of M’Farlain, of Pembroke, were remarkable for peculiarity of character and manners. About the year 1789, Seth M’Farlain attracted the notice of the neighborhood by being supposed to be under the influence of witchcraft. He became an object of wonder and commiseration to some, and of curiosity and ridicule to others. Hundreds of people thronged round his house from time to time, gazing with astonishment at his supposed personal sufferings; inflicted, as he pretended, by a certain old hag in the neighborhood. He was desired to visit the woman at her house, but before he could reach the door, his limbs would fail him, and he would fall to the ground. His body was occasionally distorted and convulsed, he would utter the bitterest complaints of pain and distress, which he ascribed to the presence of the hag, although she was invisible to all but himself. He consulted Judge T—r, to know whether he would be culpable in law if he should kill a witch. The Judge observing Seth on the bed with a club, swinging his arms to and fro, to keep off the witch, was willing to humor the whim, and procured a gun, and loading it with some pieces of silver, enjoined on Seth to take a sure aim when the witch again made her appearance. Accordingly, Seth pointed the gun to the door where she usually entered, and hung up her bonnet, and at the proper time he discharged his piece. The discharge shattered the door in pieces, but the cunning witch dodged her head at the moment he pulled the trigger!
OMENS AND AUGURIES.
In ancient times, especially among the Greeks and Romans, omens and auguries were considered as of great importance in the common concerns of life; but having their origin in ignorance and superstition, they vanished before the light of philosophy and wisdom. But so late as the first part of the last century, the belief in fairies, hobgoblins, witches, and omens, prevailed almost universally among the superstitious part of the community; and even some of superior rank and condition in life, were under the influence of these chimerical fancies.
The following were among the lucky and unlucky omens.
The flight of singing birds, or the manner of feeding of birds and chickens, portended good or evil, according to particular circumstances. The act of sneezing was ominous of good or evil, according to the number at the time, or the place. If, when a servant is making a bed, she happens to sneeze, no person can sleep in it undisturbed, unless a part of the straw or feathers be taken out and burnt. Nothing could insure success to a person going on important business, more effectually than to throw an old shoe after him on leaving the house. If there be in company thirteen persons, the devil’s dozen, some misfortune will befall one of them. To spill salt, at table, is very ominous, and the ticking of the small insect called a death-watch, foretels death, and the screech-owl at midnight, some terrible misfortune. These, and many other silly fancies, have been keenly satirized by Addison, in the Spectator. To find a horse-shoe was deemed lucky, more especially, if it be preserved and nailed on the door, as this prevents the annoyance of witches. This, probably, was the origin of the practice continued in our times, of nailing horse shoes on the masts of vessels, against the enchantment of witches. The omens are extended to particular days in the week. Friday, for instance, is considered an inauspicious day for the commencement of any undertaking. It is seldom that a seaman can be prevailed on to commence a voyage on that day. An account has been published of some person, who, desirous of eradicating this prejudice, ordered the timber of his vessel to be cut on Friday; her foundation laid, her launching, and the engaging her crew, on Friday, and finally he ordered her to sail on Friday. But it was remarkable and unfortunate, that neither the vessel nor crew were ever heard from afterwards. This, however, is no proof that Friday is more likely to produce disasters than any other day in the seven. We know that all events are under the control of Divine Providence, and it is inconsistent with reason to imagine, that fatality will attend undertakings because they were commenced on any one particular day.
That singular genius, Lord Byron, was among those who indulged the superstitious notion, that Friday is an unlucky day. In Moore’s Life of Byron, may be found the following.
‘Among the superstitions in which he chose to indulge, the supposed unluckiness of Friday, as a day for the commencement of any work, was one by which he almost always allowed himself to be influenced. Soon after his arrival at Pisa, a lady of his acquaintance happening to meet him on the road from her house, as she was herself returning thither, and supposing that he had been to make her a visit, requested that he would go back with her. “I have not been to your house,” he answered; “for just before I got to the door I remembered that it was Friday; and not liking to make my first visit on a Friday, I turned back.” It is even related of him, that he once sent away a Genoese tailor, who brought him home a new coat on the same ominous day. With all this, strange to say, he set sail for Greece on a Friday; and, though by those who have any leaning to this superstitious fancy, the result may be thought but too sadly confirmatory of the omen, it is plain, that either the influence of superstition over his own mind was slight, or, in the excitement of self devotion under which he now acted, was forgotten.’