recalled, and instructed to give a
verdict of acquittal, which they did. Mr. Parris retired in humiliation
and disgrace. Cora fainted in her rescued lover's arms, while Mrs.
Stevens, falling on her knees, thanked God that the light of Heaven at
last shone on the path so long dark. Cora's mother came to take her from
the liberated prisoner; but he would not give her up, holding her until
she regained consciousness, when all went home together, a happy and
united family.

Almost in the twinkling of an eye, the delusion was dispelled, and many
who had been wrong hastened, so far as in them lay to make reparation.
The bigoted and fanatical, if we may not say hypocritical preachers,
were displaced by God-fearing, righteous ministers, who were more
liberal, exercising common sense, and possessing humanity as well as
godliness, which is ever essential to a good minister. They were
liberal, even to the player's child as well as to the players
themselves.

George and Henry Waters both became citizens of Salem, and Charles and
Cora were married three months after the acquittal of the former. Their
lives were eventful, with as much happiness as is commonly allotted to
mortals of earth, and they left nine children, all brought up in the
fear of the Lord, and lovers of liberty.

Witchcraft prosecutions were doomed, and shortly after the acquittal of
Charles Stevens in so singular a manner, they altogether ceased to
prosecute. The imprisoned witches and wizards were reprieved and set
free. Reluctant to yield, the party of superstition were resolved on one
conviction. The victim selected was Sarah Daston, a woman eighty years
old, who, for twenty years, had borne the undisputed reputation of a
witch. If ever there was a witch in the world, she, it was said, was
one. Her trial was conducted at Charlestown in the presence of a great
throng. There was more evidence against her than any tried at Salem; but
the common mind disenthralled of the hideous delusion asserted itself,
through the jury by a verdict of acquittal.

Cotton Mather, who was thoroughly imbued with the delusion, to cover his
confusion, got up a case of witchcraft in his own parish. He averred
that miracles were wrought in Boston. Cotton Mather does not seem to
have been bloodthirsty, though he was more anxious to protect his vanity
than his parishioners, and his bewitched neophyte, profiting by his
cautions, was afflicted by veiled spectres. The imposture was promptly