chapter in history, I carefully abstained, with the exception of a few

cautionary considerations hinting at the difficulties that encompass the subject, from attempting to follow facts to conclusions, in that direction. My sole object was to bring to view, as truthfully, thoroughly, and minutely, as I could, the phenomena of the case, as bare historical facts, from which others were left, to make their own deductions. This was the extent of the service I desired to render, in aid of such as may attempt to advance the boundaries of the spiritual department of science. I was content, and careful, to stay my steps. Feeling that the story I was telling led me along the outer edge of what is now knowledge--that I was treading the shores of the _ultima Thule_, of the yet discovered world of truth--I did not venture upon the world beyond. My only hope was to afford some data to guide the course of those who may attempt to traverse it. Other hands are to drop the plummet into its depths, and other voyagers feel their way over its surface to continents that are waiting, as did this Western Hemisphere, for ages upon ages, to be revealed. The belief that fields of science may yet be reached, by exploring the connection between the corporeal and spiritual spheres of our being, in which explorations the facts presented in the witchcraft Delusion may be serviceable, suggested one of the motives that led me to dedicate my volumes to the Professor of Physiology in Harvard University. The Reviewer concludes his article by saying that the "History of Salem witchcraft is as yet unwritten," but, that I must write it; and he tells me how to write it. He advises a more concise form, although his whole article consists of complaints because I avoided discussions and condensed documents, which, if fully gone into and spread out at length, would have swelled the dimensions of the work, as well as broken the thread of the narrative. It must be borne in mind, that a reader can only be held to the line of a subject, by an occasional retrospection and reiteration of what must be constantly kept in view. The traveler needs, at certain points and suitable stages, to turn and survey the ground over which he has passed. A condensation that would strike out such recapitulations and repetitions, might impair the effect of a work of any kind, particularly, of one embracing complicated materials. The Reviewer says that, "by all means, I must give references to authorities," when I quote. This, as a general thing, is good advice. But it must be remembered that my work consists of three divisions. The History of Salem Village constitutes the First. This is drawn, almost wholly, from papers in the offices of registry, and from judicial files of the County, to which references would be of little use, and serve only to cumber and deform the pages. Everything can be verified by inspection of the originals, and not otherwise. The Second Part is a cursory, general, abbreviated sketch or survey of the history of opinions, not designed as an authoritative treatise for special students, but to prepare the reader for the Third Part, the authorities for which are, almost wholly, Court files. As to the remaining suggestion, that I must divide the work into Chapters, with headings, there is something to be said. When the nature of an historical work admits of its being invested with a dramatic interest--and all history is capable, more or less, of having that attraction--where minute details can fill up the whole outline of characters, events, and scenes, all bearing the impress of truth and certainty, real history, being often stranger than fiction, may be, and ought to be, so written as to bring to bear upon the reader, the charm, and work the spell, of what is called romance. The same solicitude, suspense, and sensibilities, which the parties, described, experienced, can be imparted to the reader; and his feelings and affections keep pace with the developments of the story, as they arise with the progress of time and events. Headings to Chapters, in historical works, capable of this dramatic element, would be as out of place, and as much mar and defeat the effect, as in a novel. As for division into Chapters. This was much thought of and desired; but the nature of the subject presented obstacles that seem insurmountable. One topic necessarily ran into, or overlapped, another. No chronological unity, if the work had been thus cut up, could have been preserved; and much of the ground would have had to be gone over and over again. Examinations, Trials, Executions were, often, all going on at once. There is danger of a diminution of the continuous interest of some works, thus severed into fragments. There are, indeed, animals that will bear to be chopped up indefinitely, and each parcel retain its life: not so with others. The most important of all documents have suffered injury, not to be calculated, in their attractiveness and impressiveness, by being divided into Chapter and Verse, in many instances without reference to the unity of topics, or coherence of passages; dislocating the frame of narratives, and breaking the structure of sentences. We all know to what a ridiculous extent this practice was, for a long period, carried in Sermons, which were "divided" to a degree of artificial and elaborate dissection into "heads," that tasked to the utmost the ingenuity of the preacher, and overwhelmed the discernment and memory of the hearer. He, in fact, was thought the ablest sermonizer, who could stretch the longest string of divisions, up to the "nineteenthly," and beyond. This fashion has a prominent place among _The Grounds and Occasions of the Contempt of the Clergy and Religion_, by John Eachard, D.D., a work published in London, near the commencement of the last century--one of the few books, like Calef's, which have turned the tide, and arrested the follies, of their times. In bold, free, forcible satire, Eachard's book stands alone. Founded on great learning, inspired by genuine wit, its style is plain even to homeliness. It struck at the highest, and was felt and appreciated by the lowest. It reinforced the pulpit, simplified the literature, eradicated absurdities of diction and construction, and removed many of the ecclesiastic abuses, of its day. No work of the kind ever met with a more enthusiastic reception. I quote from the Eleventh Edition, printed in 1705: "We must observe, that there is a great difference in texts. For all texts come not asunder, alike; for sometimes the words naturally fall asunder; sometimes they drop asunder; sometimes they melt; sometimes they untwist; and there be some words so willing to be parted, that they divide themselves, to the great ease and rejoicing of the Minister. But if they will not easily come in pieces, then he falls to hacking and hewing, as if he would make all fly into shivers. The truth of it is, I have known, now and then, some knotty texts, that have been divided seven or eight times over, before they could make them split handsomely, according to their mind." An apology to those critics who have complained of my not dividing my