None of the remedies had worked.

They tried parsnip seeds, ground up in red wine, and spirits of caster mixed with oil of

amber.

They tried an elixir by taking heart-shorn oil from the antlers of a deer and mixing it

with soot.

They'd even tried collecting doodrops and let them evaporate so they could use the

minuscule amount of dust to make a tonic.

But none of it had worked.

That was frustrating, too, because Samuel's niece Abigail wasn't getting any better.

It had begun days earlier when he found the 11-year-old girl crouch beneath a chair.

Her hands pressed against the sides of her head.

She was twisting and writhing, and complaining loudly about some sort of torment.

When things got really bad, Abigail would collapse onto the floor in a limp heap, as if

all of her bones had been magically removed from her body.

She would seize up and contort and panic, and in a house as small and packed as theirs,

that was a frightening sight.

Samuel and his wife Elizabeth lived in that small house with three of their own children,

plus Abigail.

Close quarters meant that everyone was suffering vicariously alongside the young girl, but

it also meant that illness was likely to spread unless they could treat it fast.

Before they could manage to do that, however, their worst fears came true.

In early January of 1692, screams from another part of the house pulled Samuel out of his

...