y fyke
When plundering herds assail their byke,
As open pussies mortal foes,
When, pop! she starts before their nose,
As eager runs the market crowd,
When, "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud,
So Maggie runs, the witches follow,
Wi' monie an eldritch skreech and hollow.
--Burns.

[Footnote A: The incidents narrated in this chapter were gathered from
Cotton Mather's "Invisible World," and legends current at the time.
Strange as it may seem, these narratives were believed, and some are
from sworn testimony in court.]

Most people are superstitious. In fact, we might put it stronger and
say, all people are superstitious. Superstition is natural, and so long
as there are great mysteries unrevealed to man, there will be
superstition. So long as the great mysteries of life and death and a
future existence are shrouded in the unknown, there will be believers in
the supernatural. So long as there are powers and forces not understood,
they will be attributed to unknown or unnatural causes. Most people are
unwilling to admit, even to themselves, that they are superstitious, yet
somewhere in their nature will be found a belief in some odd and
ludicrous superstition. Many have a dread of the unlucky number; some
will not commence a journey on Friday; they feel better when they have
seen the new moon over their right shoulder, and when the matter is well
sifted, we find lurking about all a strange, inexplicable superstition.

Two hundred years ago, superstition was far more prevalent than at
present, and some of the wisest and best of that day possessed the
oddest and most unreasonable opinions.

A few evenings after the incidents narrated in the foregoing chapter,
Charles Stevens, who had been all day on a hunt, at night found himself
near an old deserted house, four or five miles from town. The house had
been built by some Puritans, years before, and the family which had
lived in it were murdered by Indians. The house was currently reported
at the village to be haunted; but Charles, who was not a believer in
ghosts, resolved to pass the night there, in preference to braving a
threatening thunderstorm.

His negro man Pete was with him, and when he told Pete to gather up some
dry wood, the darkey, with eyes protruding from his head, asked:

"Massa Charles, am ye gwine to stay heah all night?"

"Certainly, Pete, why not? A storm is coming, and we could not reach
h