Wit, Ready—See [Eccentricity].
WITCHCRAFT
In two hundred years thirty thousand witches are said to have been destroyed in England; and as recently as 1716, when the town was enjoying the wit and satire of the “Queen Anne men,” a woman and her child nine years of age were hanged at Huntingdon. Addison, with a mind that wavered between superstition and good sense, said he could not forbear believing “in such a commerce with evil spirits as that which we express by the name of witchcraft,” while, at the same time, he could “give no credit to any particular modern instance of it.” Scotland, which is regarded as an enlightened part of the empire, held with the utmost tenacity its faith in witchcraft. The Scotch, a vigorous people, put their hands to the work heartily. It was easy to find victims, since, as we have said already, they tortured until they confest. It is calculated that two thousand persons were burned in Scotland in the last forty years of the sixteenth century. A century later a witch epidemic broke out in the village of Mohra, in Sweden. A number of children were said to be bewitched, and familiar with the devil, who was described as wearing a gray coat, red and blue stockings, a red beard, and a high-crowned hat. The witches kept this exacting person supplied with children, and if they did not procure him a good many, “they had no peace or quiet for him.” The poor wretches were doomed to have no more peace or quiet in this world. Seventy were condemned to death, and twenty-three were burnt in a single fire at Mohra. It is noteworthy that a belief in this frightful superstition which destroyed more innocent persons than the so-called holy office was held by men of great intellectual power—by Erasmus, Bacon, and the judicious Hooker; by Sir Edward Coke, Sir Thomas Browne, Baxter, and Sir Matthew Hale. And the old belief is not yet extinct in country districts. Only recently a man at Totnes accused his father of bewitching, or, as a “white witch” called it, “overlooking” his daughter, so that she suffered for months from a disease in the arms; and the people who live in remote villages may often hear of similar cases.—London Illustrated News.
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WITCHES, BELIEF IN
Dr. James B. McCord writes in Medical Missions:
The Zulu baby is born into the fear of witchcraft; in the fear of witchcraft he grows up, and when he sickens and is about to die, his one thought is that a spell has been cast upon him for which the charm can not be discovered. All his life long he dreads in lonely places to meet the inswelabova—an inhuman man, lacking only hair or fur to make him altogether a beast—a sort of beast in human form who rides backward on a baboon, ready to pounce upon and make medicine of the unwary traveler. In mature manhood he suspects his neighbor, his friend, his brother, and even his wife of having dealings with makers of charms and poisons. He walks with an uneasy feeling that an enemy may have put medicine in his path to harm him. From every possible source, from earth and from sky, from river and from forest, from friend and from foe, he is continually apprehensive of evil influence coming upon him and searching for a talisman to wear against it.
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WITNESS OF SERVICE
On one of the battle-fields of South Africa a young chaplain found a Highlander sorely wounded and with life ebbing quickly away. He asked him to allow him to pray, but the soldier said gruffly, “No, I don’t want prayers. I want water.” The chaplain secured, with great difficulty, some water, and then asked the refreshed man if he might read a psalm. “No,” said the soldier again. “I am too cold to listen to a psalm.” The chaplain instantly stript off his coat and wrapt it tenderly round the wounded soldier. And then, touched by the chaplain’s sympathy, the man turned and said, “Chaplain, if religion makes men like you, let’s have that psalm.” When Christians prove themselves loving and considerate for the sick and suffering, even the hardest heart melts.