in insisted upon Crabshaw's
making sail a-head, in order to look out afore; but Timothy persisted in
refusing this honour, declaring he did not pretend to lead, but he would
follow, as in duty bound. The old gentlewoman abridged the ceremony by
leading out Crabshaw with one hand, and locking up Crowe with the other.

The former was dragged upstairs like a bear to the stake, not without
reluctance and terror, which did not at all abate at sight of the
conjurer, with whom he was immediately shut up by his conductress, after
she had told him in a whisper, that he must deposit a shilling in a
little black coffin, supported by a human skull and thigh-bones crossed,
on a stool covered with black baize, that stood in one corner of the
apartment. The squire, having made this offer with fear and trembling,
ventured to survey the objects around him, which were very well
calculated to augment his confusion. He saw divers skeletons hung by the
head, the stuffed skin of a young alligator, a calf with two heads, and
several snakes suspended from the ceiling, with the jaws of a shark, and
a starved weasel. On another funeral table he beheld two spheres,
between which lay a book open, exhibiting outlandish characters, and
mathematical diagrams. On one side stood an ink-standish with paper; and
behind this desk appeared the conjurer himself, in sable vestments, his
head so overshadowed with hair, that, far from contemplating his
features, Timothy could distinguish nothing but a long white beard,
which, for aught he knew, might have belonged to a four-legged goat, as
well as to a two-legged astrologer.

This apparition, which the squire did not eye without manifest
discomposure, extending a white wand, made certain evolutions over the
head of Timothy, and having muttered an ejaculation, commanded him, in a
hollow tone, to come forward and declare his name. Crabshaw, thus
adjured, advanced to the altar; and, whether from design, or (which is
more probable) from confusion, answered, "Samuel Crowe." The conjurer
taking up the pen, and making a few scratches on the paper, exclaimed, in
a terrific accent, "How! miscreant! attempt to impose upon the stars?--
You look more like a crab than a crow, and was born under the sign of
Cancer." The squire, almost annihilated by this exclamation, fell upon
his knees, crying, "I pray yaw, my lord conjurer's worship, pardon my
ignorance, and down't go to baind me over to the Red Sea like--I'se a