himself.  At length, when her fit of inspiration came, she spoke, for the first few moments in a low voice and not invariably distinct utterance.  Her discourse gave evidence of an imagination hopelessly entangled with her reason; it was a vague and incomprehensible rhapsody, which, however, seemed to spread its own atmosphere round the hearer’s soul, and to move his feelings by some influence unconnected with the words.  As she proceeded, beautiful but shadowy images would sometimes be seen, like bright things moving in a turbid river; or a strong and singularly shaped idea leaped forth, and seized at once on the understanding or the heart.  But the course of her unearthly eloquence soon led her to the persecutions of her sect, and from thence the step was short to her own peculiar sorrows.  She was naturally a woman of mighty passions, and hatred and revenge now wrapped themselves in the garb of piety; the character of her speech was changed, her images became distinct though wild, and her denunciations had an almost hellish bitterness.

“The governor and his mighty men,” she said, “have gathered together, taking counsel among themselves and saying, ’What shall we do unto this people—­even unto the people that have come into this land to put our iniquity to the blush?’ And lo! the Devil entereth into the council-chamber, like a lame man of low stature and gravely apparelled, with a dark and twisted countenance, and a bright, downcast eye.  And he standeth up among the rulers; yea, he goeth to and fro, whispering to each; and every man lends his ear, for his word is, ‘Slay, slay!’ But I say unto ye, Woe to them that slay!  Woe to them that shed the blood of saints!  Woe to them that have slain the husband, and cast forth the child, the tender infant, to wander homeless, and hungry, and cold, till he die; and have saved the mother alive, in the cruelty of their tender mercies!  Woe to them in their lifetime, cursed are they in the delight and pleasure of their hearts!  Woe to them in their death-hour, whether it come swiftly with blood and violence, or after long and lingering pain!  Woe, in the dark house, in the rottenness of the grave, when the children’s children shall revile the ashes of the fathers!  Woe, woe, woe, at the judgment, when all the persecuted and all the slain in this bloody land, and the father, the mother, and the child shall await them in a day that they cannot escape!  Seed of the faith, seed of the faith, ye whose hearts are moving with a power that ye know not, arise, wash your hands of this innocent blood!  Lift your voices, chosen ones, cry aloud, and call down a woe and a judgment with me!”

Having thus given vent to the flood of malignity which she mistook for inspiration, the speaker was silent.  Her voice was succeeded by the hysteric shrieks of several women, but the feelings of the audience generally had not been drawn onward in the current with her own.  They remained stupefied, stranded as it were, in the midst of a torrent, which deafened them by its roaring, but might not move them by its violence.  The clergyman, who could not hitherto have ejected the usurper of his pulpit otherwise than by bodily force, now addressed her in the tone of just indignation and legitimate authority.