h listened to,
however, with the utmost reverence by the two daughters of the house.

'My wench,' said the old sailor, 'thou hast come to a country where
there are many perils, both from land and from sea. The Indians hate
the white men. Whether other white men' (meaning the French away to the
north) 'have hounded on the savages, or whether the English have taken
their lands and hunting-grounds without due recompense, and so raised
the cruel vengeance of the wild creatures--who knows? But it is true
that it is not safe to go far into the woods, for fear of the lurking
painted savages; nor has it been safe to build a dwelling far from a
settlement; and it takes a brave heart to make a journey from one town
to another, and folk do say the Indian creatures rise up out of the
very ground to waylay the English; and then offers affirm they are all
in league with Satan to affright the Christians out of the heathen
country over which he has reigned so long. Then, again, the seashore is
infested by pirates, the scum of all nations: they land, and plunder,
and ravage, and burn, and destroy. Folk get affrighted of the real
dangers, and in their fright imagine, perchance, dangers that are not.
But who knows? Holy Scripture speaks of witches and wizards, and of the
power of the Evil One in desert places; and even in the old country we
have heard tell of those who have sold their souls for ever for the
little power they get for a few years on earth.'

By this time the whole table was silent, listening to the captain; it
was just one of those chance silences that sometimes occur, without any
apparent reason, and often without any apparent consequence. But all
present had reason, before many months had-passed over, to remember the
words which Lois spoke in answer, although her voice was low, and she
only thought, in the interest of the moment, of being heard by her old
friend the captain.

'They are fearful creatures, the witches! and yet I am sorry for the
poor old women, whilst I dread them. We had one in Barford, when I was
a little child. No one knew whence she came, but she settled herself
down in a mud hut by the common side; and there she lived, she and her
cat.' (At the mention of the cat, Elder Hawkins shook his head long and
gloomily.) 'No one knew how she lived, if it were not on nettles and
scraps of oatmeal and such-like food given her more for fear than for
pity. She went double, always talking and muttering to herself.