with the devil and sealed it with
his blood; and he had two imps that sucked him, one of which, the yellow
dun imp, was always urging him to do some mischief, but the other was more
amiable. Accordingly, to please the yellow dun he had one day sent it to
sink an Ipswich ship, which he spied out in the offing: a commission
which the imp executed with zeal and precision before the eyes of a whole
beach full of spectators. This Ipswich ship was one of many that rode
safely enough in the calm sea, but the imp troubled the waters immediately
about her, and down she went like a stone, as all present could testify.
Asked if he had not grieved to make so many--they were fourteen--widows in
a few moments he said "No, he was glad to have pleased his imp." This
confession and various witch "bigges" found on him were held proofs
conclusive; and Mr. Lewis was condemned to be hanged; his eighty years,
and his gown, protecting him nowise. As soon as he was a little refreshed
he denied all the ravings he had been induced to utter, read the burial
service for himself with cheerfulness and courage, and met his death
calmly and composedly; perhaps not sorry to resign into God's keeping a
life which Matthew Hopkins and the Puritans were rendering intolerable.

A Penitent Woman[133] of the same time confessed that when her mother lay
sick a thing like a mole ran into bed to her. She, the Penitent Woman,
started, but her mother told her not to fear, but to take the mole and
keep it, saying, "Keep this in a pot by the fire, and thou shalt never
want." The daughter did as she was bid, and made the mole comfortable in
its pot. And after she had done this, a seemingly poor boy came in and
asked leave to warm himself by the fire. When he went away she found some
money under the stool whereon he had sat. This happened many times, and so
her mother's promise and her imp brought the poor penitent romancer
Barmecidal good luck. It could not have been much, for Hopkins, or at
least his friend and comrade John Sterne, says in the examination of Joan
Ruccalver, of Powstead, Suffolk, that "six shillings was the largest
amount he had ever known given by an imp to its dame."

That all this seemed right and rational in the eyes of sane men is one of
the most marvellous things connected with the delusion: that well-educated
Englishmen should send such a wretch as Matthew Hopkins with legal
authorisation to prick witches, associating with him Mr. Calamy "to se