'"
'It is one of those figments,' observed Mr. Bradwardine, 'with which the
early history of distinguished families was deformed in the times of
superstition; as that of Rome, and other ancient nations, had their
prodigies, sir, the which you may read in ancient histories, or in the
little work compiled by Julius Obsequens, and inscribed by the learned
Scheffer, the editor, to his patron, Benedictus Skytte, Baron of
Dudershoff.'
'My father has a strange defiance of the marvellous, Captain Waverley,'
observed Rose, 'and once stood firm when a whole synod of Presbyterian
divines were put to the rout by a sudden apparition of the foul fiend.'
Waverley looked as if desirous to hear more.
'Must I tell my story as well as sing my song? Well--Once upon a time
there lived an old woman, called Janet Gellatley, who was suspected to be
a witch, on the infallible grounds that she was very old, very ugly, very
poor, and had two sons, one of whom was a poet and the other a fool,
which visitation, all the neighbourhood agreed, had come upon her for the
sin of witchcraft. And she was imprisoned for a week in the steeple of
the parish church, and sparely supplied with food, and not permitted to
sleep until she herself became as much persuaded of her being a witch as
her accusers; and in this lucid and happy state of mind was brought forth
to make a clean breast, that is, to make open confession of her
sorceries, before all the Whig gentry and ministers in the vicinity, who
were no conjurors themselves.
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