meeting-house, went into disrepair.  Burdens were accumulated upon the already over-taxed resources of the people.  An actual scarcity of provisions, amounting almost to a famine, continued for some time to press upon families.  Farms were brought under mortgage or sacrificed, and large numbers of the people were dispersed.  One locality in the village, which was the scene of this wild and tragic fanaticism, bears to this day the marks of the blight then brought upon it.  Although in the centre of a town exceeding almost all others in its agricultural development and thrift,—­every acre elsewhere showing the touch of modern improvement and culture,—­the “old meeting-house road,” from the crossing of the Essex Railroad to the point where it meets the road leading north from Tapleyville, has to-day a singular appearance of abandonment.  The Surveyor of Highways ignores it.  The old, gray, moss-covered stone walls are dilapidated, and thrown out of line.  Not a house is on either of its borders, and no gate opens or path leads to any.  Neglect and desertion brood over the contiguous grounds.  Indeed, there is but one house standing directly on the roadside until you reach the vicinity of the site of the old meeting-house; and that is owned and occupied by a family that bear the name and are the direct descendants of Rebecca Nurse.  On both sides there are the remains of cellars, which declare that once it was lined by a considerable population.  Along this road crowds thronged in 1692, for weeks and months, to witness the examinations.

The ruinous results were not confined to the village, but extended more or less over the country generally.  Excitement, wrought up to consternation, spread everywhere.  People left their business and families, and came from distant points, to gratify their curiosity, and enable themselves to form a judgment of the character of the phenomena here exhibited.  Strangers from all parts swelled the concourse, gathered to behold the sufferings of “the afflicted” as manifested at the examinations; and flocked to the surrounding eminences and the grounds immediately in front of Witch Hill, to catch a view of the convicts as they approached the place selected for their execution, offered their dying prayers, and hung suspended high in air.  Such scenes always draw together great multitudes.  None have possessed a deeper, stronger, or stranger attraction; and never has the dread spectacle been held out to view over a wider area, or from so conspicuous a spot.  The assembling of such multitudes so often, for such a length of time, and from such remote quarters, must have been accompanied and followed by wasteful, and in all respects deleterious, effects.  The continuous or frequently repeated sessions of the magistrates, grand jury, and jury of trials; and the attendance of witnesses summoned from other towns, or brought from beyond the jurisdiction of the Province, and of families and parties interested specially in the proceedings,—­must have occasioned an extensive and protracted interruption of the necessary industrial pursuits of society, and heavily increased the public burdens.