Nothing is more essential to a well-ordered civil government, than a well-balanced public mind; for want of this, in different ages, laws have been framed and penalties executed in cases which go beyond the reach of human investigation, and relate to subjects of which we can form only faint and obscure conceptions, and consequently all the evidence touching such cases is more or less to be distrusted.

At the period we are now contemplating, the connection between the spiritual world and the physical being of man was supposed to be developed in an extraordinary degree. It was believed the boundaries between the material and invisible states were more clearly defined, and that strange and startling intercourse was held by mysterious agents, on these border territories. It was indeed no novelty in those days for the civil courts to claim jurisdiction over the rambling vagaries of the mind, and so far as any law affecting the social or civil compact was plainly violated, it was certainly within their office to punish the offence; but the courts travelled out of their way, and, invading the natural rights of man, they entered a field of inquiry, whose dim and uncertain forms could never be reduced to facts, or supply materials of evidence, on which a sober mind could rely. Of this nature was the court organized by Sir William Phipps, for the trial and punishment of witches. It had no legitimate character, and the functions it assumed were entirely beyond the rights of any earthly tribunal. Nevertheless, its authority was acknowledged, and its stern and dreadful mandates were obeyed as promptly as they were issued. The influence of this court, by giving judicial sanction to the extravagances of the times, tended very much to strengthen and prolong the delusion, and the remarkable infatuation of the judges overcame the plain common sense of the jury, which but for their influence would soon have checked the mania, and restored the public mind to calmness and reason.

We have before remarked, that Mr. Willard, the minister of the South Church, was strongly opposed to the proceedings of the courts. This was the more remarkable from the fact, that the chief justice and two of the judges were members of his church. Mr. Willard admitted the possibility of Satanic influence, but he denied that it was visible in any such form as to warrant judicial interference. He remonstrated with great earnestness against the general movements, and there is no doubt he suffered so much reproach on this account, that his remarkable talents and exemplary piety could scarcely sustain him. It is certain also, that he was accused of practicing witchcraft, and though the complaint was rejected by the court, there were not wanting those who believed him confederate with Satan, and a direct agent in promoting his designs upon the people of New England. There were some, however, who took Mr. Willard's ground, and boldly maintained that the court was illegal, and could not in any sense take cognizance of such matters. We have already mentioned Thomas Brattle and John Leverett, tutors of Harvard College; and there is good reason to believe President Mather was of the same opinion, and attempted to restrain the popular feeling; but no one was more bold than Robert Calef, an eminent merchant of Boston, whose views on the subject were as sound and discriminating as those of any man of that age. No individual did more to dispel the delusion, and the records he has left behind have reared an imperishable monument to his courage, fidelity, and success.

Miss Graham had accepted an invitation from her friend Miss Elliott, to spend the last two weeks of May in Boston. An intimate and endeared friendship now existed between these two young ladies. It was greatly promoted by Lyford, who had carefully studied the character of his sister's friend, and there was no one in his judgment who surpassed Miss Elliott in moral excellence, as well as mental accomplishments. Every attention had been bestowed upon her education; and though her manners and appearance were more formal and stately than comported with the simplicity of the times, yet she universally secured the respect and good-will of all classes in society.

It was grateful to Mary's feelings to retire for a while from the painful scenes she was every day compelled to witness at home. Her health and spirits were sinking under the strange excitement which pervaded the community at Salem and its neighborhood, and the change she sought was now absolutely necessary. The two friends were entirely agreed in matters of religious faith, and their intercourse with the world was regulated by a scrupulous regard to Christian decorum and example. The fashionable society of Boston was at that time professedly religious; the outward forms of devotion were generally and greatly respected; yet a powerful current of worldly influence was visible, and the clergymen of those days complained that the vital power of the Gospel was far too little manifested, in the lives and conversation of its professors.

On Miss Graham's arrival at Boston, she was visited by all her friends; but the usual routine of social parties was now nearly suspended. The painful suspicions and jealousies that were abroad had interrupted the peace of families, and extensive divisions in the churches and in general society were disturbing the public harmony, and shaking the foundations of social confidence in a most alarming degree. Still the state of things was far better than in Salem; and though the popular feeling even in Boston went along with the belief in supernatural agencies, yet there was enough of common sense remaining to oppose a formidable barrier to the action of courts and judges in the business. This conservative influence prevailed most in the first and third churches; but in the congregation of Cotton Mather, which was very large, there was scarcely a dissenting voice from the general belief, and the Sabbath day exercises at the North Church were almost exclusively governed by the impressions of an invisible world; and the church itself was regarded as the grand post of observation, from which the march and countermarch of Satan's ranks were discerned, while he moved at their head, enlisting recruits for his new kingdom, about to be established.

On the last week in May, a day of fasting and prayer had been solemnly observed in reference to the prevailing calamities. The point of Satan's visible agency was now scarcely disputed, and those who doubted or disbelieved were in too much personal danger to make any public protest against the prevalent doctrines; yet it was scarcely possible for one who entertained such views as Walter to avoid an occasional sarcasm; and Miss Graham herself was disposed to treat the subject with lightness, in the hope that its folly might in this way be more readily seen. The high standing they occupied was to some extent security from danger. But, on the other hand, there was a feeling of envy and jealousy towards the unsuspecting maiden, which soon involved her in suspicions; and Miss Hallam, who regarded Walter's attachment to Mary with extreme displeasure, availed herself of the general distrust to produce unfavorable impressions wherever her influence extended.

In this state of things the last Sabbath in May arrived. The religious exercises of the week had prepared the people to expect that their ministers would follow up the subject, and give such views of the whole case as comported with their own convictions, and the teachings of Scripture. The day was singularly beautiful; the freshness of its early dawning, and the summer breezes, that were diffusing life and joyousness around, were expressive of a mild and beneficent Providence; but Nature in her calm and delightful aspect, was all unconscious of the dark figures and mysterious demons, that were thronging the imaginations of men; her morning hymn was ascending in grateful chorus from forest, valley, and stream; but she was no longer the handmaid of devotion, for man refused to mingle in her silent or audible aspirations, or in any sense, to bend the knee at her shrine.

At ten o'clock, the bells rang for public worship, and the streets, which till then had been silent as the desert, were now thronged with multitudes on their way to the house of God. Sadness and sorrow were visible in every countenance. The early flowers of spring, the narcissus, the violet, and the snow-drop, which were wont to adorn the dresses, or fringe the hair of the young and beautiful, were utterly neglected, and the silent processions moved along the streets to their respective places of worship, as if they were following the dead to their burial. Even the church bells, which sent their cheerful melodies among the valleys and rocks, now seemed to toll upon the ear, the funeral dirge of all that was bright and happy in the land; the merry laugh of childhood, the clear sunshine of the brow of youth, and the serene tranquillity of maturer years, were suppressed and clouded by an unseen yet terrible influence, before whose mysteries Reason was overthrown, and Religion herself was staggered.

Miss Elliott and Mary, accompanied by their brothers and Strale, left home at the usual time for public worship. As they passed along on their way to the South Church, they were deeply impressed with the state of feeling so obvious around them; to see their fellow beings enslaved by a superstition so unnatural and absurd; to be unable to break the fatal spell which had fallen upon nearly all, and to mark in the dim future those undefined yet assuredly fatal consequences, of whose nature and extent the worst apprehensions might be indulged, filled their minds with anxiety and sorrow. But they endeavored to turn from these sad meditations to the hopes and consolations of the Gospel they loved, and which they firmly believed would deliver the mind from its debasing thraldom, and give to its emancipated powers 'the glorious liberty of the sons of God.'

The South Church occupied the ground on which the present edifice stands, and its site was then called 'the Green.' It was constructed of cedar, and for those times it was an imposing and beautiful edifice; its tall spire, rising from the midst of a grove of buttonwood trees, and far above all surrounding objects, was gazed at with an interest and reverence which in these days is not often bestowed on those significant emblems which point upward to a 'house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.'

The pulpit was located, as now, in the northeast side of the building, and directly in front was a row of seats designed for and occupied by the elders. A small enclosure, still further in front, and facing the congregation, was occupied by the deacons, and before them was a platform, on which the leader of the music stood and conducted the psalmody, in which all who were able to sing, and some who were not, were in the habit of uniting.

On the present occasion, the service was commenced as usual by a prayer occupying about ten minutes, and followed by a psalm from the New-England version then in use, which was first read by Mr. Willard, and then given out by the ruling elder, line by line, to the congregation. The selection for the morning was the fifty-first psalm, and its penitential character was strikingly adapted to the time and circumstances of their worship. Many a charming voice united in the simple melody, and many a contrite heart mingled its confessions and prayers, in the true spirit of devotion, with those of the pious psalmist.

As we wish to bring into view the principal features of Sabbath-day worship in those times, we give the following version of the psalm, in the words in which it was sung:

The musical critic may sneer at the peculiar metre and simple versification, but it is probable the true design of sacred music was far more readily attained in those days and in this homely garb, than it can be by the high pretensions and meretricious ornaments of its modern masters.

The position of Mr. Willard was one of painful embarrassment. He had publicly declared his dissent from the prevalent opinions, and in this advanced stage of the popular delusion, when its early opposers were every day falling into the ranks of its believers, it required no small share of moral courage to maintain his ground. It was expected he would now make known his opinions without reserve, and that these opinions would appear greatly modified, if not totally changed. In this expectation, the church was thronged by multitudes who were anxious to quote his name and authority in support of the wild theories, which were now so generally adopted and believed.

The prayer which followed the music was distinguished for its fervency and pathos, and as the pastor carried up the desires of the congregation in his own affecting and impressive language, the fixed and solemn attention of the audience, indicated that it was no formal service, but one in which all the powers of the soul were deeply absorbed. At the close of the prayer, another psalm was sung, in the following words:

The text was then announced, and was at once indicative of the sentiments and designs of the preacher. It was the first verse of the fourth chapter of John's Epistle: 'Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they be of God.'

The preacher assumed as an undoubted fact, fully warranted by the Scriptures, that spiritual agencies for good and ill were constantly at work among men, but it was so difficult to define their nature, their peculiar offices, and the extent of their power, that it was our wisdom to avoid all speculation, except so far as was necessary to guard against practical error.

It was now a popular theory, that evil spirits assumed visible forms, and were permitted to make compacts or treaties with such as were pleased with their terms and conditions. This doctrine he denounced as in the highest degree absurd and dangerous, declaring it was a delusion fraught with the worst consequences, that the kind of evidence by which this theory was supported was totally unwarranted, and could not for a moment be trusted by a sound and discriminating mind.

He then proceeded to analyze the mind, its nature, its liability to mistake, its unsuspected deceits, its love of fable and delight in the marvellous and supernatural. He pointed out the frequent errors of the imagination; that it changes material substances, and creates in air, on earth, and in the ocean, innumerable shapes, which it clothes in beauty or gloom, according to the light in which these objects are contemplated. He then described its effects on the physical system, producing nervous agitation, fancied maladies, and strange distortions of the countenance, which it falsely attributes to unnatural and unreal causes.

Such being the character of the mind, it was impossible in the nature of the case to discriminate so accurately between its own actings and those of spiritual agents, as to measure the criminality of persons charged with the practice of witchcraft, or warrant the interference of the civil law. It often happens that a state of mind, supposed to be in the highest degree criminal, is the result of insanity and disease, and calls for sympathy and relief, instead of reproach and punishment; and in conclusion he declared his full conviction, that a lying spirit, like that of the prophets of Ahab, was now abroad in the land, and in the fulness of his grief over the public calamities, he entreated and charged his people to try the spirits, to criticise severely every ground of accusation; for among the devices of Satan, none were more common than deception and fraud, and it was not impossible for him to persuade even the pious to believe a lie, for he was a liar from the beginning, and himself the father of lies.

Such a sermon and at such a time, could not fail to produce a strong excitement. As the congregation retired from the house, signs of displeasure were manifest on every side. The high reverence in which the character of Mr. Willard had been held, could scarcely restrain the general feeling of anger; but there were some who deeply sympathized with their minister, and felt that this noble testimony against the prevailing delusion, was as imperiously demanded, as it was faithfully and fearlessly given.