Crane Pond by Richard Francis Read Free Book Online Page B

and here is his child, struggling and in danger. It seems unjust. Or rather it seems to reflect justice of a deep sort, divine justice. Her illness is the inevitable result of his weakness.
    He takes a vow not to heed the opinion of others in the future. ‘Save me from the fear of man, that brings a snare,’ he prays under his breath. He will do what he thinks is right, or rather, what God wishes him to do.
In return let my daughter Hannah recover from the smallpox.
But there can be no ‘return’. That was the merchant in him speaking. You do not make deals with God. You cannot earn a cure for yourself or for one you love, any more than you can earn salvation. All you can do is be the sort of good person whom evil cannot touch, as oil cannot mix with water.
    Within days there are fifty or sixty pocks on Hannah’s face, and many more on her arms. They sail over the surface of her body like reprieved pirates sailing over the surface of the ocean. But then they begin to fade. Within a couple of weeks Hannah is down from her bedchamber and with Sam and Betty and Joseph once more. She is only lightly marked. Sewall thanks God, and promises to be strong and vigilant from now on.

P ART 2 W ITCHCRAFT
    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
    If our
Walls
had not been broken down, had worse things than
Indians
, even Devils , broke in upon us, as they have sadly done, to Confound us with such
Praeternatural Operations
, as have been the just Astonishment of the World?
    â€”C OTTON M ATHER,
Memorable Passages,
relating to New-England
(Boston, 1694)

C HAPTER 5
    S ewall sits and watches at the window, his habit first thing on Christmas morning. It’s snowing heavily as if to blot out the day. He fears it will keep everyone in their houses and prevent the shops from opening, as if Boston is celebrating Christmas papist-fashion even though it isn’t. There’s no such thing as a holiday, or Holy Day, because all days are holy. Religion is not intermittent.
    A week ago, he went to visit young Sam at the home of Mr. Hobart, minister at Newton. Sam is helping with the chores in exchange for receiving tuition from Mr. Hobart, who is well-known as a teacher (Sam is thirteen now, time for him to get experience at living in another household). He asked if he could come home for Christmas and Sewall spoke to him sternly, telling him that Christmas was no different from any other day. Now he wishes he had taken another tack. God would understand the difference between Sam visiting home because it’s Christmas and Sam visiting home because he needs to visit home. It’s just that Sewall is frightened of confusing himself by making such fine discriminations. Perhaps he fears that Sam coming home would have
felt
like Christmas, whatever Christmas might feel like.
    There’s a sudden cry and Sewall starts, but it’s just a passing carter rebuking his horse, which is finding the going difficult. And the cart is piled high with large sections of dead pig. In fact a head is staring back at him from the top of the mound, its mouth laughing through the jiggling flakes. Sewall rushes out of the house, hails the carter. ‘Where are you off to?’ he asks.
    â€˜None of your business.’
    â€˜Do you know what day it is?’
    â€˜It’s any other day to me.’
    â€˜And to me.’
    The man tugs his lead-rein. ‘I have to go. I’m taking this to Goodhew, the butcher.’
    â€˜So Goodhew is open today?’
    The carter turns back and gives him a sharp look. The last thing Sewall wants is to make him feel guilty because he’s working today. A solution suddenly presents itself. ‘Let me buy a piece of pork, my man.’
    â€˜These are for the shop.’
    Sewall gets out his purse. ‘I will save my piece a journey. I’ll pay the shop price.’
    â€˜I don’t know what the shop price is.’
    â€˜Well, a good price.’ He takes out three shillings. ‘This