Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1886-12-09

II
but the young men generally smarteC
under secret sense Of defeat, Will,
the coincidence between the universal
success Of the winner and his fondnesl
for the witch's daughter va. exactly
the sort of argument that appealed
most strongly to the superstitious fish.
erfolk.
The crowd once more broke intc
speech, which was rather babble than
Q clamor, and which became more
angry as it swelled. The words Of
Priest Eaton were lost in the noise
Jacob Thatcher placed himself be.
tween the bier and his towsfolk, but
even his stout shoulders seemed q
-slisht snoash. harrior against sarrilegs
to the dead.
Ii was one Of those chaotic and
critical moments in the progress OF a
mob when it is broken into innumer-
able separate groups in angry dispute,
and when it is idle to attempt to reach
1t as a whole until some striking in.
cldent unites once more it's divided
attention. 1t is usually true. more
over, that upon the first general i'm.
preston that shall be exertei on a
mob at such crisis depends its action.
1t is at its most impressionable stage,
and will readily take the stamp Of
whatever idea is strongly presented to
it.
BY this time, the crowd collected
at the churchyard gate included al.
most every human being in the vii
lage, and II had assumed the character
OF a genuine mob The remonstrances
of Priest Eaton, the entreaties OF
Elkniah Stover, the appeal Of Mercy.
and the interference OF Jacob Thatcher
had all proved OF no avail, and there
seemed small hope but Ezra Johnston
would carry his point, and that the
body of the dead Quakeress would be
cast in dlshonor upon the Jagged rocks
Of the Devil DEN.
Help at this desperate crisis came
from an unthought ofsource. BY on col
those strange thrills that seem TO
reach the mind through soma sense
beyond the five. and to appeal to some
faculty more subtle. the excited vii
layers became aware that something
new had happened. A sudden hush
spread over the wild company. Ex-
cited hsh-wives paused with open
mouths in the midst OF their harangu-
ing, and stretched their necks toward
the bier the Angry men broke of
their noisy wrangling to turn their
eyes in the same direction even
Marcy, who had clung convulsively to
her father in the terror OF seeing ia.
mlliar faces transformed into strange
ness before her eyes by superstition
and rage, turned to look toward tie
coffin.
1t was only old Goody Cole, who
had at this critical moment made her
tottering way up to the bier and flung
herself down upon it. Lame and de
crepit, weak and wandering in her
wits, the poor old creature, whose
stream of life had been so thin that
for almost a century it had tickled on
without draining even the ordinary
measure Of human existence, had only
just been able to complete the Journey
from Harpswsll Neck All the long
woodland. track she had come, half
tottering, half crawling, to lay her
blessing upon Goodwlfe Stover. grave.
In wall that had in it the pathos
Of the sound Of wind in the forest, the
wretched crone cried over and over,
with heart-broken reiterance
"Oh, but she was my life On, but
she was my life Oh, but she was my
lifeI"
The cry was so intense that it
thrilled even the stolid fishermen Of
Harpswell Neck, perhaps for the time
being rendered more sensitive than
usual by unwontsd excitement. The
tension of their nerves became every
moment greater as they stood IN
unstudied groups, picturesque and
strange The brief November after
noon was darke ming to It's close, long
lines OF fiery light breaking the cold
gray OF the western sky. A few scant
snow flakes were silently stealing
through the air, falling upon the
angry villagers. upon the tall form OF
Priest Eaton, with white locks and
black gown, upon the strong, young
figure of jacob Thatcher, standing
sentinel between his townsfolk and
the dead, upon the pathetic group Of
father and daughter. and amid them
all, that withered, centuEy-old figure
of Goody Cole. repeating in shrill mo-
notons:
''Oh, but she was my life