It may well be supposed, that the congregation assembled that day with minds awfully solemnized, and altogether in a condition to be deeply affected by the services.  A respectable person always prominently noticeable for her devout participation in the worship of the sanctuary, and a member of the church, had, on Monday, after a public examination, been committed to prison, and was there in irons, waiting to be tried for her life for the blackest of crimes,—­a confederacy with the enemy of the souls of men, the archtraitor and rebel against the throne of God.  On Thursday, another venerable, and ever before considered pious, matron of a large and influential family, a participant in their worship, and a member of the mother-church, had been consigned to the same fate, to be tried for the same horrible crime.  A little child had been proved to have also joined in the infernal league.  No one could tell to what extent Satan had lengthened his chain, or who, whether old or young, were in league with him.  Every soul was still alive to the impressions made by Mr. Lawson’s great discourse, and by the throngs of excited people, including magistrates and ministers, that had been gathered in the village.

The character and spirit of Mr. Parris’s sermon are indicated in a prefatory note in the manuscript, “occasioned by dreadful witchcraft broke out here a few weeks past; and one member of this church, and another of Salem, upon public examination by civil authority, vehemently suspected for she-witches.”  The running title is, “Christ knows how many devils there are in his church, and who they are;” and the text is John vi. 70, 71, “Jesus answered them, Have not I chosen you twelve, and one of you is a devil?  He spake of Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon; for he it was that should betray him, being one of the twelve.”

Peter Cloyse was born May 27, 1639.  He came to Salem from York, in Maine, and was one of the original members of the village church.  He appears to have been a person of the greatest respectability and strength of character.  He married Sarah, sister of Rebecca Nurse, and widow of Edmund Bridges.  She was admitted to the village church, Jan. 12, 1690, being then about forty-eight years of age.  It may well be supposed that she and her family were overwhelmed with affliction and horror by the proceedings against her sister.  But, as she and her husband were both communicants, and it was sacrament-day, it was thought best for them to summon resolution to attend the service.  After much persuasion, she was induced to go.  She was a very sensitive person, and it must have required a great effort of fortitude.  Her mind was undoubtedly much harrowed by the allusions made to the events of the week; and, when Mr. Parris announced his text, and opened his discourse in the spirit his language indicates, she could bear it no longer, but rose, and left the meeting.  A fresh wind blowing at the time caused the door to slam after her.  The congregation was probably startled; but Parris was not long embarrassed by the interruption, and she was attended to in due season.  At the close of the service, the following scene occurred.  I give it as Parris describes it in his church-record book:—­