hide Sorting

You can sort these results in two ways:

By entity
Chronological order for dates, alphabetical order for places and people.
By position (current method)
As the entities appear in the document.

You are currently sorting in ascending order. Sort in descending order.

hide Most Frequent Entities

The entities that appear most frequently in this document are shown below.

Entity Max. Freq Min. Freq
John Ward 92 0 Browse Search
New England (United States) 64 0 Browse Search
Newbury, Mass. (Massachusetts, United States) 54 0 Browse Search
Christ 44 0 Browse Search
Julia 42 0 Browse Search
Richardson 40 38 Browse Search
Richard Saltonstall 35 1 Browse Search
Richard Martin 32 0 Browse Search
David Matson 29 1 Browse Search
Dick Wilson 28 0 Browse Search
View all entities in this document...

Browsing named entities in The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 5. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier).

Found 2,064 total hits in 614 results.

... 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 ...
. Richardson asked him if he did not regard Deacon Dole as a godly man; and if he had aught to say and most beguiling likeness. Last night, Deacon Dole's Indian—One-eyed Tom, a surly fellow—broke far as one could hear him. This morning Deacon Dole came in, and said his servant Tom had behavgiven offence to some who did listen to it. Deacon Dole saith it was such a discourse as a Sociniany enough we found our ancient kinswoman and Deacon Dole, a widower of three years standing, sittingves; and being very merry at the thought of Deacon Dole's visit, it chanced to enter our silly headr note that the clock was stopped. He told Deacon Dole, that seeing Goody Barnet so troubled abouthe told Rebecca this morning not to mention Deacon Dole's name to her again, and that Widow Hepsy iodging in jail. Mr. Sewall tells me that Deacon Dole has just married his housekeeper, Widow Bare heels in the stocks was worse than riding Deacon Dole's horse. June 14. Yesterday the wedd[5 more...]<
her, that one night there did enter into their chamber a smell like that of the bewitched bread, only more loathsome, and plainly diabolical in its nature, so that, as the constable's wife saith, she was fain to rise in the night and desire her husband to go to prayer to drive away the Devil; and he, rising, went to prayer, and after that, the smell was gone, so that they were not troubled with it. There is also the testimony of Goodwife Perkins, that she did see, on the Lord's day, while Mr. Dalton was preaching, an imp in the shape of a mouse, fall out the bosom of Eunice Cole down into her lap. For all which, the County Court, held at Salisbury, did order her to be sent to the Boston Jail, to await her trial at the Court of Assistants. This last Court, I learn from mine uncle, did not condemn her, as some of the evidence was old, and not reliable. Uncle saith she was a wicked old woman, who had been often whipped and set in the ducking-stool, but whether she was a witch or no, h
riding up to the door; and on their coming in, we found them to be the young Doctor Clark, of Boston, a son of the old Newbury physician, and a Doctor Benjamin Thompo the whipping-post, the wench will cry out against me as her accomplice. Doctor Clark said his friend Doctor Thompson had written a long piece on this untoward stwere fain to tell her the cause of our mirth, which was indeed ill-timed. Doctor Clark spake of Mr. Ward's father, the renowned minister at Ipswich, whose book of le in her neighborhood. Doctor Thompson left this morning, but his friend Doctor Clark goes with us to Newbury. Rebecca found in her work-basket, after he had gon; No Spring revive thy wasted flowers, Nor Summer warm thy frozen heart.” Doctor Clark, on hearing this read, told Rebecca she need not take its melancholy to hearo himself. Newbury, December 6. We got back from Haverhill last night, Doctor Clark accompanying us, he having business in Newbury. When we came up to the door
f it, he brought it to me this morning, in a fair hand. I copy it in my Journal, as I know that Oliver, who is curious in such things, will like it. Kathleen. O Norah! lay your basket down, And rut the last of October, and it was a brave sight to behold. There was Marshal Michelson and Captain Oliver, with two hundred soldiers afoot, besides many on horse of our chief people, and among them pirit, which she did then feel. This she spake aloud, so that all about could hear, whereat Captain Oliver bid the drums to beat and drown her voice. Now, when they did come to the gallows ladder, oshe was ready to die as her brethren did, unless they would undo their bloody laws. I heard Captain Oliver tell her it was for her son's sake that she was spared. So they took her to jail, and afterune, as I hear. Uncle Rawson has brought me a long letter from Aunt Grindall with one also from Oliver, pleasant and lively, like himself. No special news from abroad that I hear of. My heart longs
st and seemly country gentleman, of a staid and well-ordered house. Mistress Broughton says he was not at first accredited in Boston, but that her father, and Mr. Atkinson, and the chief people there now, did hold him to be not only what he professeth, as respecteth his gentlemanly lineage, but also learned and ingenious, and welaccount it worse than death. When in the Barbadoes, I was told that on one plantation, in the space of five years, a score of slaves had hanged themselves. Mr. Atkinson's Indian, said Captain Sewall, whom he bought of a Virginia ship-owner, did, straightway on coming to his house, refuse meat; and although persuasions and whip Irish scholar, of whom my cousins here did learn the Latin tongue, coming in last evening, and finding Rebecca and I alone (uncle and aunt being on a visit to Mr. Atkinson's), was exceeding merry, entertaining us rarely with his stories and songs. Rebecca tells me he is a learned man, as I can well believe, but that he is too fo
en northerly wind blowing in great gusts, which did wellnigh benumb us. A little way from Reading, we overtook an old couple in the road; the man had fallen off his horse, and his wife was trying to get him up again to no purpose; so young Mr. Richards, who was with us, helped him up to the saddle again, telling his wife to hold him carefully, as her old man had drank too much flip. Thereupon the good wife set upon him with a vile tongue, telling him that her old man was none other than Deacon Rogers of Wenham, and as good and as pious a saint as there was out of heaven; and it did ill become a young, saucy rake and knave to accuse him of drunkenness, and it would be no more than his deserts if the bears did eat him before he got to Boston. As it was quite clear that the woman herself had had a taste of the mug, we left them and rode on, she fairly scolding us out of hearing. When we got home, we found Cousin Rebecca, whom we did leave ill with a cold, much better in health, sitti
o, we have had many pleasant little journeys by water and on horseback, young Mr. Jordan, of Spurwink, who hath asked Polly in marriage, going with us. A right comelymuch talked of, and that Caleb Powell hath been complained of as the wizard. Mr. Jordan the elder says he does in no wise marvel at the Devil's power in the Massachuy the war. September 30. Yesterday, Cousin Polly and myself, with young Mr. Jordan, went up to the top of the mountain, which is some miles from the harbor. Ithat the people hereaway are to look for from the Massachusetts jurisdiction. Mr. Jordan, the younger, says his father hath a copy of the condemned book, of the Bosting by boat to the Piscataqua River, and thence by horse to Newbury. Young Mr. Jordan spent yesterday and last night with us. He is a goodly youth, of a very sweetittle book which I brought with me from the Maine, it being the gift of young Mr. Jordan, and which I have kept close hidden in my trunk, hath been no small consolati
Higginson (search for this): chapter 2
sy enough with merry talking and laughter. The meeting-house was filled long before the services did begin. There was a goodly show of honorable people in the forward seats, and among them that venerable magistrate, Simon Broadstreet, who acteth as Deputy-Governor since the death of Mr. Leverett; the Honorable Thomas Danforth; Mr. William Brown of Salem; and others of note, whose names I do not remember, all with their wives and families, bravely apparelled. The Sermon was preached by Mr. Higginson of Salem, the Charge was given by Mr. Phillips of Rowley, and the Right Hand of Fellowship by Mr. Corbet of Ipswich. When we got back to our inn, we found a great crowd of young roysterers in the yard, who had got Mr. Corbet's negro man, Sam, on the top of a barrel, with a bit of leather, cut in the shape of spectacles, astride of his nose, where he stood swinging his arms, and preaching, after the manner of his master, mimicking his tone and manner very shrewdly, to the great delight
well; for when I was at Port Royal, many years ago, I did see with mine eyes the burning of an old negro wizard, who had done to death many of the whites, as well as his own people, by a charm which he brought with him from the Guinea, country. Mr. Hull, the minister of the place, who was a lodger in the house, said he had heard one Foxwell, a reputable planter at Saco, lately deceased, tell of a strange affair that did happen to himself, in a voyage to the eastward. Being in a small shallop, not a whit behind the magicians of Egypt in the time of Moses. There be women in the cold regions about Norway, said Caleb Powell, as I have heard the sailors relate, who do raise storms and sink boats at their will. It may well be, quoth Mr. Hull, since Satan is spoken of as the prince and power of the air. The profane writers of old time do make mention of such sorceries, said Uncle Rawson. It is long since I have read any of them; but Virgil and Apulius do, if I mistake not, speak o
contrary thereof. What became of him and the young woman, his cousin, in the end, I do not learn. One small parcel did affect me even unto tears. It was a paper containing some dry, withered leaves of roses, with these words written on it: To Anna, from her loving cousin, Christopher Gardiner, being the first rose that hath blossomed this season in the College garden. St. Omer's, June, 1630. I could but think how many tears had been shed over this little token, and how often, through lonll, Let death unbind my chain, Ere down yon blue Carpathian hill The sunset falls again! My heart is heavy with the thought of these unfortunates. Where be they now? Did the knight forego his false worship and his vows, and so marry his beloved Anna? Or did they part forever,— she going back to her kinsfolk, and he to his companions of Malta? Did he perish at the hands of the infidels, and does the maiden sleep in the family tomb, under her father's oaks? Alas! who can tell? I must needs
... 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 ...