![]() ![]() ![]() You will burn in hell for what you are doing! she had shouted, but no one had been listening.Īt the head of the council sat Parris Locke, a tall man with dark piercing eyes and skeletal features. Last night, as they had rendered their verdict, a solitary voice of dissent had sounded from the young woman’s mother. Tall men draped in black gowns that brushed their feet, white pointed collars, wide black brimmed hats, tapered with a silver buckle. Last to arrive was the Millingham Town Council. They had come from far and wide to see the witch die. They were greeted by squat and ruddy-cheeked Reverend Butler, who took them in hand and led them to seats with a clear vantage point. In he rode at the head of a procession of selectmen, an endless stream of them from every town in the Bay area. Governor John Winthrop arrived not long after. ![]() There they sat silently perched, awaiting the spectacle. Two boys climbed out from a window onto the roof of their house. ![]() By noon, the condemned witch would be burnt to ash, her evil extinguished forever.īefore long, Millingham’s narrow streets were thronged with crowds from every corner of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. The inhabitants of Millingham knew this as surely as they knew that God had sent his only son to die for their sins. The smell of burning death would soon choke the streets. ![]()
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