merly contained a superstitious population. Many lives have here been
cruelly sacrificed, and the barren hill is still in existence where
persons accused of witchcraft were hung upon tall trees. Tradition
points out the place where the witches of old resided. Cotton Mather
records in a work, truly original for that age, that the good people who
lived near Massachusetts Bay were every night roused from their slumbers
by the sound of a trumpet, summoning all the witches and
demons."--Cotton Mather's _Magnalia_; Arfwedson, vol. i., p. 186.

"And thrice that night the trumpet rang,
And rock and hill replied;
And down the glen strange shadows sprang--
Mortal and fiend--a wizard gang,
Seen dimly, side by side.

"They gathered there from every land
That sleepeth in the sun;
They came with spell and charm in hand,
Waiting their master's high command--
Slaves to the Evil One."--_Legends of New England._]

[Footnote 343: "During the war with Philip, the Indians took some
English alive, and set them upright in the ground, with this sarcasm:
'You English, since you came into this country, have grown considerably
above ground; let us now see how you will grow when planted into the
ground.'"--_Narrative of the Wars in New England_, 1675.-_Harleian
Miscellany_, vol. v., p. 400.]

[Footnote 344: "The Pequods were a powerful nation on the Connecticut
border, who could muster a thousand warriors. The English might have
found it difficult to withstand them but for an alliance with the second
most powerful people, the Narragansets, whose ancient enmity to the
Pequods for a time prevailed over their jealousy of the foreigners. But
at length, when the Pequods were nearly exterminated, the Narragansets,
seeing the power of the strangers paramount, began to side with their
enemies. The Indian chiefs began to imitate the English mode of
fighting, and even to assume English names, with some characteristic
epithet. One-eyed John, Stone-wall John, and Sagamore Sam, kept the
colony in perpetual alarm. But their most deadly and formidable enemy
was Philip, sachem of the Wampanoags. No Indian was ever more dreaded by
civilized man. A century and a half has now elapsed since this hero of
Pokanoket fell a victim to his own race, but even to this day his name
is respected, and the last object supposed to have been touched by him
in his lifetime is considered by every American as a valuable relic.
This extraor