“Feria Sexta, June 30, 1704....  After Diner, about 3 P.M.  I went to see the Execution....  Many were the people that saw upon Bloughton’s Hill.  But when I came to see how the River was cover’d with People, I was amazed!  Some say there were 100 Boats, 150 Boats and Canoes, saith Cousin Moody of York.  He told them.  Mr. Cotton Mather came with Capt.  Quelch and six others for Execution from the Prison to Scarlet’s Wharf, and from thence....  When the scaffold was hoisted to a due height, the seven Malefactors went up; Mr. Mather pray’d for them standing upon the Boat.  Ropes were all fasten’d to the Gallows (save King, who was Repriev’d).  When the Scaffold was let to sink, there was such a Schreech of the Women that my wife heard it sitting in our Entry next the Orchard, and was much surprised at it; yet the wind was sou-west.  Our house is a full mile from the place."[191]

This also from the kindly judge indicates the interest in the last service for the condemned one: 

“Thursday, March 11, 1685-6.  Persons crowd much into the Old Meeting-House by reason of James Morgan ... and before I got thither a crazed woman cryed the Gallery of Meetinghouse broke, which made the people rush out, with great Consternation, a great part of them, but were seated again....  Morgan was turned off about 1/2 hour past five.  The day very comfortable, but now 9 o’clock rains and has done a good while....  Mr. Cotton Mather accompanied James Morgan to the place of Execution, and prayed with him there."[192]

It would seem that the Puritan woman might have used her influence by refusing to attend such assemblies.  Let us not, however, be too severe on her; perhaps, if such a confession were scheduled for a day in our twentieth century the confessor might not face empty seats, or simply seats occupied by men only.  In our day, moreover, with its multitude of amusements, there would be far less excuse; for the monotony of life in the old days must have set nerves tingling for something just a little unusual, and such barbarous occasions were among the few opportunities.

Gradually amusements of a more normal type began to creep into the New England fold.  Judge Sewall makes the following comment:  “Tuesday, Jan. 7, 1719.  The Govr has a ball at his own House that lasts to 3 in the Morn;"[193] but he does not make an additional note of his attending—­sure proof that he did not go.  Doubtless the hour of closing seemed to him scandalous.  Then, too, early in the eighteenth century the dancing master invaded Boston, and doubtless many of the older members of the Puritan families were shocked at the alacrity with which the younger folk took to this sinful art.  It must have been a genuine satisfaction to Sewall to note in 1685 that “Francis Stepney, the Dancing Master, runs away for Debt.  Several Attachments out after him."[194] But scowl at it as the older people did, they had to recognize the fact that by 1720 large numbers of New England children were learning the graceful, old-fashioned dances of the day, and that, too, with the consent of the parents.