Our forefathers did not so much require a detective police force nor medical men as we do. If thefts were committed, or persons became sick, cunning men or uncanny women were sent for. As rule, the offences or diseases were traced to witches or other missionaries of Satan. A suspected person received neither justice nor mercy at the hands of judges and juries. Instruments of torture were applied to wring out false self-accusations against the unhappy individual under trial. Thumbkins, or thumb-screws, were tightened on the hands; boots with wedges were put on the feet; and the flesh was torn with red-hot pincers. These and other instruments were used to make persons speak; and again, when one spoke too much, or said what became unpleasant, a gag secured silence. In addition to the torture inflicted by such articles as we have enumerated, suspected criminals were not unfrequently put in the stocks and jugs, whipped at a "cart tail," made to stand bare-headed and bare-footed before the public, or exposed in sackcloth at a church door or the market cross, to be gazed at, laughed at, and sometimes to be pelted by onlookers, rendered cruel and superstitious by their rulers and spiritual advisers.

All things have an end. Examinations by torture were declared illegal in this country in 1628, yet, notwithstanding such a declaration, examinations under torment were resorted to in 1640. As an instance of the danger of torturing a criminal, not to speak of its inhumanity, we notice the case of John Felton, accused of assaulting the Duke of Buckingham in the year last above mentioned. On the Bishop of London proposing to put Felton on the rack with the view of obtaining from him the names of his associates, the criminal replied, "If it must be so, I know not whom I may accuse in the extremity of pain—Bishop Laud, or perhaps any lord at this board." But we return to our proper subject.

An appalling story of an English witch comes down to us from the ninth century. The Berkly witch was rich and gay, living, to all appearance, a life of pleasure; but, having sold herself to the devil, a sad day of reckoning came at last. Before her death she called on the monks and nuns of a monastery, to whom she confessed that she had entered into a compact with Satan, who would, after her death, snatch away body and soul, unless prevented by means she explained. According to directions, her body was sewed into a stag's skin, and placed in a stone coffin, strongly secured with an iron chain. If the holy men and women, she said, could prevent the devil for three days from getting her, he could not after that time injure either her body or spirit. Faithfully did the monks and nuns watch over the witch's dead body, protected as far as iron, stone, and lead could do. On the first two nights minor demons kept up a loud howling. On the third night the monastery swarmed with more powerful demons, one of whom proved so strong and terrible that he shook the sacred edifice to its foundation. In spite of all the precautions taken, the big fiend burst into the church, went straight to the witch's coffin, and commanded her to follow him. With faltering tongue the dead woman said she could not stir, as she was chained down. A slight twist of his hand broke the chain into two pieces. Slowly the corpse rose; and the devil dragged his prey to the door, where stood a horse breathing fire. Away went horse, devil, and witch down to the infernal abode.

King Edward II. of England and two of his favourites had an attempt made on their lives by persons who sought the assistance of Master John of Nottingham, a famous necromancer. John agreed, for a money consideration, to assist them. He made wax images, representing his Majesty and the other gentlemen intended for death. The necromancer, his assistant, and twenty-seven Coventry men were tried for the foul offence, but escaped punishment, the evidence against them proving insufficient to warrant a conviction.

Ursley Kempe alias Gray, an English witch, killed many of her near neighbours. If her own statement could be relied on, she possessed four imps. Two of them had power to kill, but the other two could do no more than punish men and beasts with lameness. Other witches in the neighbourhood where Ursley lived controlled imps that wrought mischief on all sides, until they became a terror to the country.

Annis Herd had six little spirits like blackbirds, and six resembling cows, though not larger than rats.

About the beginning of the seventeenth century a grievous affliction befell the Earl and Countess of Rutland's family. Their eldest son died; their second son was seized with severe sickness; and their daughter, Lady Catherine, suffered from a severe malady. Witchcraft lay at the root of the whole matter. Johan Flower, a widow, and her two daughters, Philip and Margaret, were the suspected witches. They were brought before a magistrate. Philip stated that the evils referred to had been brought on the Earl's family by her mother and sister, because the latter, a servant at the castle, had been dismissed. Margaret, by desire of her mother, stole the eldest son's right-hand glove and carried it home. The mother, who had an imp or evil spirit like a cat, rubbed the glove on the cat's back, ordering it to go and kill Lord Henry (the eldest son); and it set off to perform the devilish work assigned it. That the deed might be the more quickly performed, Johan put the glove into boiling water, pricked it with pins, and buried it. Lord Henry died.

A glove of Lord Francis (the second son) was operated on in a similar manner; but, his life not being desired, he sickened only. Lady Catherine's malady was caused by a process similar to that which killed one of her brothers and brought her other brother nigh death's door. Philip admitted she had an imp like a white rat, which made Thomas Simpson love her. Margaret had two spirits, to whom she had sold herself, soul and body. Johan's spirits told her she would neither be burned nor hanged—a prediction verified; for she died from some unknown cause on the way to prison. The two daughters suffered the extreme penalty of the law.

Edmund Robinson, a boy about eleven years of age, living at Pendle in 1632, told his friends remarkable stories about witches. One day two greyhounds with golden collars came to him, and, because they would not chase a hare that happened to pass, he tied the dogs to a bush, and began to beat them. While the work of castigation proceeded, one of the hounds became like the wife of a man named Dickenson, living in the neighbourhood, and the other hound turned into the shape of a little boy. The woman beseeched Robinson not to tell she was a witch. Little Edmund imprudently said he would not keep the secret, whereupon she transformed the boy that had appeared as a greyhound into a white horse. Dickenson's wife took Edmund, and mounted the horse with him. Before they had ridden more than a quarter of a mile they came to a new house, where threescore persons were assembled at a splendid entertainment. Ample supplies came down by six visitors pulling as many ropes. By this operation smoking-hot joints, lumps of butter, and milk in abundance fell into basins placed under the ropes. Little Edmund ran away, but before he reached his father's house a boy with cloven feet attacked him most unmercifully, cutting his face and ears. What the result would have been none can tell, had not two horsemen come forward and rescued Edmund from the evil spirit. The case being reported to Charles I., he instructed one of his bishops to make special inquiry into the matter. The bishop did not credit the boy's statement, so the king ordered the liberation of several women identified by the boy as having been concerned in the witch proceedings at the new house.

At one time a band of Essex witches, numbering not less than thirteen, killed people, cattle, and horses, caused sickness, destroyed milk, beer, and batches of bread by their wicked arts, and sent their imps to burn dwelling houses, barns, and corn.

The witches of Northamptonshire were famous in their day and generation. Agnes Brown and Johan Vaughan were grievously implicated. They, out of revenge against Mrs. Belcher for insulting Johan, Agnes Brown's daughter, griped and gnawed the lady's body, and put her mouth awry. Mrs. Belcher's brother, Alexander, went to the witches' house to draw their blood, and thereby counteract their enchantments. He repeatedly struck at them, but some unseen power warded off the blows. He returned home without performing the task he undertook, and without doing his sister any good. Naturally enough, Agnes Brown and Johan were offended at the attempted outrage; and they, by their witchcraft, laid the young man on a bed of sickness. The witches were apprehended and lodged in Northampton gaol. Hither did Mrs. Belcher and her brother proceed, to draw blood of the witches. They succeeded in performing the operation, which we presume was done by cutting them above the mouth; for if the blood is not spilled "above the breath" in a case of this kind, the sanguinary deed is of no avail. The afflicted man and woman found relief for a short space of time. Scarcely, however, had they left the prison than their pains returned with double torment. That was not all. As they drove along in a coach, a man and woman, riding on a black horse, suddenly appeared. The sight was taken as an omen of mischief; and so it happened; for the horses of Mrs. Belcher and her brother fell down dead on the road.

Once upon a time, when the Earl of Essex and his army were marching through Newbury, they saw a woman crossing a river on a narrow plank, and otherwise conducting herself, so as to make them conclude she was a witch. The soldiers caught her, and, by desire of their captain, two of them shot at her. With loud laughter and derision, she caught the bullets in her hands and threw them back. One daring fellow went close to the woman and discharged his carbine at her breast, but the bullet rebounded without taking effect. Another soldier tried to cut her down with his sword, but his arm lost its power. All efforts to kill her proved abortive, until blood was drawn from above the witch's temples, and then she fell by a pistol shot under her ear.

Anne Bodenham, an English witch, told fortunes, kept imps, and held intercourse with the devil. She could raise storms, and kill and cure at pleasure. There was a law-plea between Richard Goddard and Mr. Mason, his son-in-law. Anne Styles went to inquire at Anne Bodenham how the law-suit would be decided. Bodenham made a circle on the floor with her staff, and then placed a book, a green glass, and a pan of coals, within the circle. Suddenly a high wind rose, which made the house shake; and five puny devils resembling ragged boys entered the circle, followed by Bodenham's dog and cat. Boys, dog, and cat danced round the pan of coals. After deep thought, the woman took up her book and read part of it, then she threw white seeds to the spirits, which they picked up. Dancing commenced again, and again the woman Bodenham read her book. At last she went out at the back door, followed by her sprites; and the wind, which kept blowing a furious blast all the time, ceased. Alone the witch returned, and told the messenger how the law-suit would terminate.

At another time Anne Styles went, by order of Mrs. Goddard, to learn from Bodenham where a quantity of poison, concealed by the lady's two step-daughters, could be found. The witch went through all the ceremonies formerly performed, and the sprites acted their parts. One of the boys, however, on this occasion turned into a snake, and afterwards into a dog. Herbs that caused a noisome smell were burned, the book was again consulted, and a glass produced, in which Styles saw Mrs. Goddard's bed-chamber, and the poison concealed below a pillow. To punish the young ladies for their diabolical intention, Anne Bodenham sent Mrs. Goddard powdered leaves and the parings of her finger nails, to operate injuriously on their stomachs and brains. The witch offered to carry Anne Styles through the air to London—an offer that was not accepted. Bodenham often changed herself into the form of a black cat of enormous size. The witch had a tame toad that she constantly kept in a small bag, suspended from her neck. She could say the Creed backwards as well as forwards. She was condemned to death, and died impenitent, refusing to listen to psalm-singing or prayers.

Glasgow, like other towns, did not lack witches and warlocks, nor did it permit its burning faggots to be extinguished. The fury against such members of society may be judged of when it is known that repentance stools, pillars, and jugs were made, and whips prepared for ordinary church offenders—when it is known that scolding women were stuck up in jugs and branks in the most public places of Glasgow—when it is known that holy men and women were burned alive there for adhering to the principles of the Reformation—when it is known that men and women were imprisoned and whipped every day during the kirk-session's pleasure, for offences now considered venial—when it is known that, for a breach of the seventh commandment, some were carted through the streets, whipped, and thereafter banished from the town; that others, for a violation of the said commandment, were fined and ordained to stand at the cross with "fast bands of iron about their craigs, and papers on their foreheads, bareheaded, and without cloaks or plaids;" and that others again, for similar offences, were carted through the town, and lowered by means of a pulley from the Glasgow Bridge and ducked in the Clyde.In 1649 the session requested all who knew any acts of witchcraft or sorcery against witches and warlocks in Glasgow to intimate the same to the ministers and magistrates, that the offenders might be proceeded against with rigour. As a proof that "the work goes bonnily on" (as Mr. David Dickson, professor of divinity, said on seeing Sir Walter Rollock, Sir Philip Nisbet, and Ogilvie of Inverquharty led to execution in 1645), we mention that, so frequent were the prosecutions against witches and warlocks in Glasgow, that the magistrates, in 1698, considered it expedient to bargain with the jailor for the keep of witches and warlocks imprisoned in the tolbooth by order of the Lords Commissioners of Justiciary.

Paisley would appear to have been a western centre for witches. In fact, if tradition and written history can be relied on, Renfrew, with Paisley for its capital, suffered more from witchcraft than almost any other county in Scotland. Mr. D. Semple informs us that, so recently as 1697, six poor creatures were convicted of this crime before the regality of Paisley, and were "worrit" and burned to death on the Gallows Green. So audacious were those in league with Satan, that they assailed men in high position as well as those in low degree. John P—— and others were indicted in 1692 for slandering, calumniating, reproaching, and taking away the good name of John Adams, late bailie of Paisley, and others; and for drinking the devil's health. Being found guilty, they were ordered "to go to the stair-foot of Bailie Adams, and confess they scandalised; and if not, to be taken to the mercatt cross of Paisley, with a paper on their breast, bearing these words in great letters: 'We stand here for scandalising,' etc. They all obeyed but Janet Fife, on whom the sentence was executed." Mr. Hector, sheriff-clerk of Renfrewshire, from whose work on the peculiar trials of his county we are quoting, remarks, "If this wholesome treatment was more carried out, we would have fewer long tongues."