the interest of all these was now
centered upon the trials that were in progress, the contumacious
obstinacy of Giles Corey, the host of new accusations at Ipswich and
other neighboring places, and the preparations for the execution of
those already condemned to death.

If they had a passing thought of the young witch Dulcibel Burton, it was
that her time would come rapidly around in its turn, when speedy justice
no doubt would be done to her.

As to Antipas, her faithful servitor, he had relapsed again into his old
staidness and sobriety in the comparative quietude of the prison. Only
on the day of Giles Corey's execution had the prevailing excitement
attending that event, and which naturally affected the constables and
jailers, made him raging. To pass the constable's inspection, as well as
for his own safety, the jailer had chained him; but his voice could be
heard ringing through the closed door of his cell at intervals from
morning till evening.

The burden of his thoughts seemed to be a blending of denunciation and
exultation. The predictions of the four Quakers executed many years
before on Boston common, and those of men and women who had been whipped
at the cart's tail through the towns of the colony, evidently seemed to
him in progress of fulfillment:--

"They have torn the righteous to pieces; now the judgment is upon them,
and they are tearing each other! Woe to the bloody towns of Boston and
Salem and Ipswich! Satan is let loose by the Lord upon them! They have
slain the saints, they have supped full of innocent blood; now the blood
of their own sons, their own daughters, is filling the cup of God's
vengeance! They have tortured the innocent women, the innocent
children--and banished them and sold them to the Philistines as slaves.
But the Lord will avenge His own elect! They are given up to believe a
lie! The persecutors are persecuting each other! They are pressing each
other to death beneath heavy stones! They are hanging each other on the
gallows of Haman! Where they hung the innocent, they are hanging
themselves! Oh, God! avenge now the blood of thy Saints! As they have
done, let it be done unto them! Whip and kill! Whip and kill! Ha! ha!
ha!"--and with a blood-curdling laugh that rang through the narrow
passages of the prison, the insane old man would fall down for a time on
his bed exhausted.

That was an awful day, both outside and inside the prison--for all the
prisoners knew what a savage de