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Unformatted text preview: for a moment was Marie Claudette's strange tale to me when I was only three of how a scholar from Amsterdam had come to Scotland and rescued poor Deborah, daughter of Suzanne. For a moment all manner of images came back to me, from the daemon's memories, and I almost lost con- sciousness. But time was too precious to indulge in any trances now. I had this kindly little doctor of history and had to get everything I could from him. "Witchcraft," I said. "Witchcraft up there. The burnings in the seventeenth century. What do you know of them?" "Oh, ghastly tale. Suzanne, the Milkmaid of Donnelaith. On that I happen to have an invaluable piece of material, one of the original pamphlets circulated in those days by the witch judges." He went to his press and took out of it a small, crumbling quarto of pages. I could see a coarse engraving of a woman surrounded by LASHER flames that resembled more huge leaves or tongues of fire. And in thick English letters was wr...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10