r a hill by a wood-side,
and must be frequently spinning by the door; she must have a black cat,
two or three broom-sticks, and must be herself of so dry a nature, that
if you fling her into a river she will not sink: so hard then is her
fate, that, if she is to undergo the trial, if she does not drown she
must be burnt, as many have been within the memory of man.'

ROUND ABOUT OUR COAL FIRE.

In a bustling New England village there lived, not many years ago, a
poor, infirm, deformed little old woman, who was known to the
middle-aged people living there and thereabout as 'Aunt Hannah.' The
younger members of the little community had added another and very
odious title to the 'Aunt'--they called her 'Aunt Hannah, the Black
Witch.' Not that she was of negro blood. Her pale, pinched and patient
face was white as the face of a corpse; so, also, was her thin hair,
combed smoothly down under the plain cap she always wore. Very white
indeed she was, as to face, and hair, and cap, but otherwise she was all
and always black, especially so as regarded an ugly pair of gloves,
which were never removed from her hands, so far as the youngsters were
aware, and which added to the fearfully mysterious aspect of those
members. Exactly what they covered, the children never knew, but they
saw that one hideous glove enclosed something like a gigantic, withered
bird's claw, while within the other there musts have been a repulsive
and horrid knob, without proper form, and lacking any remotest attempt
at thumb and fingers.

These shapeless members, forever covered from the world, wrought fearful
images in the minds of the children, and their youthful imaginations
conjured up all sorts of uses to which such strange members might be
applied. Upon one point they were agreed. There was no doubt in any
little head among them that Aunt Hannah had at some time sold herself to
Satan, and that he had placed this deformity upon her as a mark of
ownership. Then she had a humped back, poor woman, the result of the
cruel weight of many weary years; and she leaned upon an old-fashioned
staff with a curved and crutch-like handle; and her bleared eyes were
bent forever on the ground; and her thin lips twitched convulsively, and
she muttered to herself as she crawled about the village streets; and
it was said by those who knew, that she was nearly a hundred years of
age. So the youngsters called her the 'Black Witch,' and sometimes
hooted after her in the