Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1871-10-19
Misfellanspns.
w 1T O. H c. r A F T;
OR THE
DEACON'S BLACK RAM.

Many years ago, when almost every
person in New England beIiev. il
that nOnseDsical bubble witchcraft,-
when old women, if they c.Ianced to b,
favored, were sure of ducking in some
convenient horse pond, some serious
scenes were enacted, and some tina
savOred very much of the ludicrous
In the old town of Woodstock, 4
town at that time famous for its witch
es, there lived a sturdy old farmer by
the name of Abija Lyon. He wa:
called Deacon Lyon, for he was deacon
of the Presbyterian Church. The min
ister was Rev. Mr.. Styles,-and as Nh
Styles is destined to take a prominent
part in my story, may as well de.
scribe him before proceed any further
He was little, dried up, weasel.
faced old man of seventy, who carried
about the enormous weight of seventy
five pounds. 1t was said that in his
younger days he weighed one hund-
red and twenty pounds. Mr.. Style
was witch hunter, and terror to all
the fraternity who dealt in this busi-
mes He had often been called out OF
his bed at the dead hour of midnight to
lay the devil; and up to the time of
this story had always been successful.
He wore great cloak on his nightly
excursions, and when thus clad looked
formidable. We now go back to Dea-
con Lyon. He was sturdy old farmer,
stoo six feet and one half in his boots,
and owned the best farm in town. The
deacon had a family of six stalwart
boys and several blooming daughters.
The day before Thanksgiving came
rOund-that old time hOnored festival
of New England, and great holiday in
that region, when every farmer eX-
poets all his relations to dine with him,
down to fOrtieth couSin-Deacon Lyon
said to the boys, /" Work with a will,
get the gardel-stuff into the cellar, and
as soon as it is done we will go to your
grandfath RS; and tomorrow after din
ner you can come home, and you may
all the young folks in the place."
The boys worked right smart, and
long before night the cellar filed with
garden vegetables, and the family on
the way to see the deacOn's father,
who lived four miles off. But in their
hurry they forgot to shut the outside
cellar door, called the bulk head of
hatchway Now the deacon had big
old black ram that hid nearly a bushel
of horns on his head, and he went
round the premises wherever he had a
mind to. He was cross, and if any one
made motion like a challenge he
would butt him over. He found the
open door and walked in without
kn cking, and RECALLED himself on the
good things stored there. A neighbor
passing by shut the door, and shut in
the old sheep.
Isuppose you all know that black
sleeps eyes in the dark look like balls
of fire, and magnify to twice the ordi-
nary size.
rhe deacon and his family arrived
safe at home before night, and the old
parlor was fitted for the coming party
long before dark. At an early hour
the young folks assembled. The kitch-
en was left partly open, in order that
the Deacon's wife could peep in now
and then and see that the plays were
conducted properly. The fun grew
fast and furious until about eight
O'Clock, when Deacon told his son
Abija-his oldest and namesake-to go
down the cellar and get some apples
and cider.
The young man started on his mis-
sion, but came back in haste, every
hair on his head standing erect.
"What is the matter?" asked the
deacon.
80, Father! the DEVILS in the cellar.
o, such eyes and such horns!"
"Give me the pitcher" said the old
deacon; ''you always were Lreat
coward"
The young man obeyed; Mr.. Styles
was up and soon ready to go to the
deacons; and that he might appear
formidable he put on his great cloak
that the ladies had given their beloved
minister. When Mr.. Styles arrived
at the house of the deacon the first
thing proposed was season of prayer.
Very appropriate was that. for the
devil is afraid of praying men, so 1
always have been taught. When the
time of devotion was through, the
little priest, with a prayer book under
his arm, started for the cellar. Close
behind him marched the deacon and
his sturdy sons, while the rear was
brought up by the weaker and least
resolute of the party.
sight met their view; an awful pair of
blood-red eyes glared at the priest and
his followers, and from the tremendous
size of his horns he could not have been
. young devil, hut Lucifer himself,
who is supposed to ne the king of the
internal regions. It was moment of
an awful uncertainty. Had the little
priest power to lay him, or would the
II IL rI,ch hi inn nd I, m
| pieces in an instant.
When the board stair at the bottom
was reached, the priest raised his right
arm, and with voice husky with fear
cried. "Avaunt, Satan!" The monster
over head, and with his horns entang-
led in the priests great gown, carried
| him with him back into the cellar.
With one look of intense anguish
cast on his followers, he cried, "Breth-
rem, take care Uf yourselves, the devil
has got mer'
Such a getting up stairs as then took
place was caution to old people.
The deacon seized the poker, and
went again into the cellar, determined
to rescue the priest or perish in the
attempt. The priest had tainted and
lay fiat on his back on the ground
The deacOn's old buck stood cOntenp
lating with apparent complacency hi!
fallen enemy, wondering what HI
was.
This was the last case # witchcraf
in the town of Woodstock. Mr.. Stylr
was knighted for his valor, and livet
! many years after, loved and respecte,
: by all his parshioners.
A religious trouble has sprung up 4
Jerusalem between the Armenians
backed by the Governor of the city