4 March 1691, Friday
Amusements, Father calls them.
He arrived early this morn as the slivery winter sun streaked like disconnected diamonds on the Great Room floor. Tis still thundering these March days as water like arrow-darts pierces the ground. Tis as though God sees the wickedness here and bangs His fists and sheds sharp tears in His knowledge. Father knew the accused would be examined this day by the magistrates—for public spectacle, he said. I did not want to go. I did not want to see. Perhaps tis some foreboding brought on by the dismal weather. When I expressed my concerns, Father shrugged.
“One could say you were conjuring visions of the future with all these worries of what shall come of it,” Father said. “The examination is in Town, Son. We are in the middle of Nowhere duri
