Now whether I was carried away by superstitious fear or no I will not say. I simply put down in simple words that which I saw and heard. For a few seconds all was still, and then the room seemed full of strange, wailing sounds, while Betsey continued to blow the liquid in the crock and utter meaningless words.
"Look in the crock, Jasper Pennington," she said.
"'Look in the crock, Jasper Pennington,' she said."
I looked on the dark liquid, but I could see nothing.
She blew again. "Now look," she repeated.
As I looked something dark and formless seemed to rise in the crock, but I saw nothing distinctly.
"Git away," she snarled; "I'll look."
"A rollin' say, Jasper. Waves like mountains; then a black hole, black as pitch, and great high walls. After that—I'll tell 'ee dreckly. As for the maid, laive me zee.