was a man that magnified his office, and of much personal pride, did not, perhaps, fancy the idea of bringing up such a little prisoner; and he deputized the operation to Samuel Braybrook, who, the next morning, made return, in due form, that “he had taken the body of Dorcas Good,” and sent her to the house of Nathaniel Ingersoll, where she was in custody.  It seems that Braybrook did not like the job, and passed the handling of the child over to still another.  Whoever performed the service probably brought her in his arms, or on a pillion.  The little thing could not have walked the distance from Benjamin Putnam’s farm.  When led in to be examined, Ann Putnam, Mary Walcot, and Mercy Lewis, all charged her with biting, pinching, and almost choking them.  The two former went through their usual evolutions in the presence of the awe and terror stricken magistrates and multitude.  They showed the marks of her little teeth on their arms; and the pins with which she pricked them were found on their bodies, precisely where, in their shrieks, they had averred that she was piercing them.  The evidence was considered overwhelming; and Dorcas was, per mittimus, committed to the jail, where she joined her mother.  By the bill of the Boston jailer, it appears that they both were confined there:  as they were too poor to provide for themselves, “the country” was charged with ten shillings for “two blankets for Sarah Good’s child.”  The mother, we know, was kept in chains; the child was probably chained too.  Extraordinary fastenings, as has been stated, were thought necessary to hold a witch.

There was no longer any doubt, in the mass of the community, that the Devil had effected a lodgement at Salem Village.  Church-members, persons of all social positions, of the highest repute and profession of piety, eminent for visible manifestations of devotion, and of every age, had joined his standard, and become his active allies and confederates.

The effect of these two examinations was unquestionably very great in spreading consternation and bewilderment far and wide; but they were only the prelude to the work, to that end, arranged for the day.  The public mind was worked to red heat, and now was the moment to strike the blow that would fix an impression deep and irremovable upon it.  It was Thursday, Lecture-day; and the public services usual on the occasion were to be held at the meeting-house.

Deodat Lawson had arrived at the village on the 19th of March, and lodged at Deacon Ingersoll’s.  The fact at once became known; and Mary Walcot immediately went to the deacon’s to see him.  She had a fit on the spot, which filled Lawson with amazement and horror.  His turn of mind led him to be interested in such an excitement; and he had become additionally and specially exercised by learning that the afflicted persons had intimated that the deaths of his wife and daughter, which occurred during his ministry at the village, had been brought about by the diabolical