Myths and Legends of Our Own Land — Volume 04 : Tales of Puritan Land — Key Ideas to Explore

The Devil as Debt Collector

In the tale of Tom Walker, a usurer is carried off by Satan after exclaiming, “the devil take me if I have made a farthing!” The devil appears at three knocks, and Tom’s Bibles—one in his coat, one on his desk—prove useless. Skinner emphasizes the suddenness of the judgment: the money-lender is “caught up like a child,” and his house bursts into flames. When his strongboxes are opened, they contain only “cinders and shavings.” This story exemplifies a recurring motif in the volume: wealth gained through exploitation is annihilated, and the sinner is physically removed from the community. The devil functions not as a tempter but as an enforcer of rough justice, intervening directly in economic disputes.

The Gray Champion and the Politics of Resistance

In “The Gray Champion,” Skinner recounts a 1689 confrontation between Governor Andros and a mysterious old man who halts the governor’s procession with a single word: “Halt.” The crowd, murmuring about plots and burnings, is cowed by the stranger’s “majestic presence.” Andros, described as “flushed with wine” and wearing a crucifix, represents a tyrannical, papist-leaning authority. The champion, by contrast, is “of no mortal mould,” his beard white and his staff levelled like a weapon. Skinner leaves the champion’s identity ambiguous, but the tale suggests that colonial resistance is divinely sanctioned. The episode mirrors other stories in the volume where an outsider or spectral figure intervenes at a moment of crisis, restoring moral order without bloodshed.

Salem and the Spectral Evidence

The table of contents lists several entries under “Salem and other Witchcraft,” though the excerpts do not include those tales. However, the volume’s preoccupation with supernatural judgment is evident in the stories that are present. In “The Dead Ship of Harpswell,” a phantom vessel appears before disaster; in “The Snoring of Swunksus,” a giant’s snores are heard in the mountains. These legends treat the landscape itself as a repository of moral warnings. Skinner’s method is to collect local traditions without overt skepticism, presenting them as part of regional identity. The reader should note that the excerpts do not reveal whether Skinner endorses or merely reports these beliefs; his tone is often neutral, letting the strangeness of the tales speak for itself.

Readers approaching this volume should treat each tale as a discrete artifact of regional folklore, not as a continuous narrative. Skinner’s sources are often unnamed, and his editorial presence is minimal. Pay attention to the recurring elements—the devil, spectral ships, unexplained fires—as they reveal the anxieties of a society caught between religious doctrine and frontier pragmatism. The collection rewards those who read for pattern rather than plot.

The rain streaked the window as I finished the strange, grave tales of Puritan New England—witch trials and spectral vessels—and I sat there, quiet. That stern, heroic melancholy made me reach, almost idly, for the old Irish stories of Cuchulain. Both worlds share that weight of fate, that singing through suffering, and I found myself carried along, page after page of Heroic Romances of Ireland, Translated into English Prose and Verse — Volume 2 — Text and Context.