er, as she learned of the several distinct indictments against her,
four of which, for having practised "certain detestable acts called
witchcraft" upon Ann Putnam, Mary Walcot, Elizabeth Hubbard, and Abigail
Williams, were still to be found in the Salem records. I thought of the
feelings of this old and feeble woman as she was borne to the Salem
jail, then a month later sent off, with other prisoners, to the jail
in Boston (then a whole day's journey), to be sent back to Salem for
her final doom. I pictured her on trial, when, in the presence of her
accusers, the "afflicted girls," and the assembled crowd, she constantly
declared her innocence ("I am innocent, and God will clear my
innocency"), and showed a remarkable power in refuting the questions of
the magistrate. I thought of her Christian faith and courage, when, upon
seeing all the assembly, and even the magistrate, putting faith in the
"afflicted girls'" diabolical tantrums (what else can I call them?) as
there enacted, and now preserved in the records of the trial, she calmiy
said, "I have got nobody to look to but God." I again pictured her, as,
just before the horrors of execution, she was taken from the prison to
the meeting-house, by the sheriff and his men, to receive before a great
crowd of spectators the added disgrace of excommunication from the
Church.

But I could picture no more. My heart rebelled. And as I had now reached
the old homestead on the hill I paused a moment, before entering, to
rest under the shade of the trees and to enjoy the extensive views of
the surrounding country. This comforted my troubled feelings, and
suggested the thought that in the fourteen years that Rebecca Nurse had
lived there she must have often come under the shade of the trees,
perhaps after hours of hard work and care, to commune alone with her
God. How could I help thinking so when there came up before me her
answer to the magistrate's question, "Have you familiarity with these
spirits?"--"No, I have none but with God alone." Surely, to one who knew
Him as she did, who in calm strength could declare her innocence when
many around her, as innocent as she, were frightened into doubt and
denial, the quiet and rest of nature must have been a necessary means of
courage and strength.

Then what did not the old house, with its sloping roof, tell me, as it
still stood where Townsend Bishop had built it in 1636, upon receiving a
grant of three hundred acres? Yes, this old