Chapter IV: Part 4

“There was a lad at service at one time with Malcolm here beside us. He was one of the T’s. He was in the habit of coming to this house, and my father said to myself, I should not have too much to do with him, for that there was something bad in him. It was maintained that his father had _eolas_, and people would be going to him when a beast or person was unwell, but those that have the one thing, the knowledge of healing, it is usual for them to have the other thing, knowledge to cause injury also.” The reciter believed that this lad deliberately did them an injury, and after recounting the particulars said, “My father advised us not to show any anger to the lad for fear he might do something worse to us, if he were to know that we were angry. ‘That is the way the like of these people have. If they do harm to a person and he shows anger they will do him more harm.’”

A domestic servant, speaking of an old woman that she knew very well, said: “She was known as Mairi Siath (Mary of sprains?) and was looked upon as one who had a great deal of secret power by which she could do both harm and good. People were afraid to offend her, and would give her almost anything she would ask rather than offend her.” The said Mary, having been consulted about unsuccessful churning, “brought back the butter every bit that should have been on the churn from the time it had been taken away, and there was so much that the mistress was afraid to use it in the house, for she said it could not have come in a right way. She gave it away, and after that they always got butter on the churn.”

There is no doubt that the girl who repeated this believed what she was telling as of her own knowledge. The only explanation that occurs to one is that the milk, having been for some reason poor for a time from bad feeding or some such thing, the food having become better and richer, the milk was thereby improved to such an extent as to give the appearance, especially in comparison with the small yield before, of a somewhat supernatural supply.

The same belief in the power of hurting and healing being united in one person has been already mentioned in connection with an Arran shepherd on page 19.

One other case as reported was that of an Islay farmer who, on one occasion riding along the road, passed a man ploughing with a pair of horses. Shortly thereafter the horses lay down, having become to all appearance unwell. A messenger was immediately despatched after the farmer, who, hearing what had happened, returned, and at any rate got the credit of curing the animals.

TRANSMISSION OF EOLAS

It has already been mentioned how a woman who possessed a toothache cure was willing to impart the necessary formula (incantation) to a “relative” who was a male, but could not do it to a female. That case was in Islay.

The following information from Skye shows the belief that _eolas_ is imparted in the same way and under like circumstances there. This Skye woman was believed to have the Evil Eye, and to have the power of taking away the produce (_an toradh_) from other’s cows. When she was on her deathbed, and when she came very near her end, she said to those about her that she was anxious to see her husband. He happened at that particular time to be out looking after something, and they sent for him, but all the time till he came in she kept crying for him, and urging that she wished to see him. When he came in she requested that all the others should withdraw, and when they had done so she said to her husband to shut the door that there might be nobody there but themselves alone. What took place between them there nobody ever knew, but one thing people firmly believed, that was that she gave the skill that she had to her husband, for after that he could take away the _toradh_ from other people’s cows, and did take it away too.

However, authorities do not always agree as to changing the sex in the transmission of this magic.

A native of Harris, a woman of about forty, has no English, and can neither read nor write. When asked as to her experiences, and if she had ever seen a thread tied round a child’s neck to preserve it from the effects of the Evil Eye, she said: “I did see it; wasn’t there one on my own child? and that was for A. McE.‘s Evil Eye. She has an Evil Eye (_Droch shuil_), and one day she came into the house and began to praise the child greatly. She was only a short time gone when the child began to vomit. ‘O Kate,’ said I to my sister, ‘my child is _air a cronachadh_ with the Evil Eye of that woman.’ ‘If that is all that is wrong, we won’t be long putting it right,’ said Kate, and she took a red thread, and when she had said the word, she tied the string on the child’s neck, and there was no time till it was quite well.” She was asked whether Kate had the words, and she replied, “Oh yes, my mother had them and she taught them to Kate.”

The general trend of belief is that the hereditary transmission of _eolas_ is from father to daughter, and from mother to son. A reciter said: “A woman still lives in the neighbourhood, said to have obtained her _eolas_ secret from her father. She is often requisitioned, and her skill to cure fully believed in.”

Another said: “You know A. McE. His mother had _eolas a chronachaidh_, and he said that she left the secret with him before she died.” These were “unprovoked” statements of the reciters, and in the latter case the interest of the story was in pointing out the method taken to determine whose Evil Eye had affected a sick horse. The owner was told to watch the colour of the hair of the first woman that passed the house, which would be the same as that of the person wanted. The result was given in the following terms, “Now she is blaming Mrs. MacD.”

In all these cases we see that the _eolas_ was kept in the family, or at least believed to be so. The deathbed scene of the wife and husband may be a most uncharitable suggestion of heathenism, but the recital was made in good faith.

The witch doctor sometimes apparently requires assistance. A horse being taken ill while ploughing, supposed to be hurt by the Evil Eye, the farmer refused to have anything to do with these irregular practices. The horse died. Not long after a second took ill, and as the ploughman, the reciter, said, “We were all about it saying it could be cured.” At last the master said if there was any person who could do it they might try it, it would do no harm at any rate. There was a man there that had _eolas_, and he took another man out with him, and they made the _eolas_ outside. They did nothing to the horse, but while they were out making the _eolas_ the horse got up, shook itself, and was better at once.

In Arran, as elsewhere, _cronachadh_ seems to be regarded as hereditary. One reciter said of a man at Loch Ranza that it did not matter what he would look at, his look would _cronach_ it. A lad from another part of the island went to ask a daughter of this man to marry him, and when the nearest neighbour heard of his courtship she became exceedingly angry, and protested against any of that man’s daughters being brought there “to _cronaich_ everything about the place.”

FORMS OF INCANTATION

For specimens of these incantations the reader should refer to “Gaelic Incantations, with Translations,” W. Mackenzie, Inverness, 1895; and to “Carmina Gadelica,” A. Carmichael, Edinburgh, 1900. Above we have already given one as recited, but they are hard to get, there being many reasons why the user is shy of repeating them. One thing is certain, that a complete performance of any of these rites requires the repetition of “words,” as they say, of some sort. In far the majority of cases, the words are what are called “good” words, having a sanction of Christianity about them, being generally invocations of the Trinity and of Mary. As a native of Morven said, describing a cure in which water is used at a certain stage, “The person making the _eolas_ kept saying good words.” Another woman from Mull, describing a cure done by herself, said: “I remember a child I cured myself with good words that I have. It was very ill, and nearly gone when I took it and placed it in my bosom and cured it. I said the words over it, but after curing it I was very much exhausted until I got a cup of tea, and then I felt myself getting better.” When requested to repeat the words, she affirmed that they were all good words, and that it was in the name of the Trinity she did it; but she went over the words in such a low voice, and with so indistinct a pronunciation and so fast, that the collector found it quite impossible to follow.

The writer was mentioning these circumstances to a lady visiting him who gave the following example, which aptly illustrates how the performance of some ceremony can form a foundation for belief in their beneficial activity. Her sister’s child of three weeks old was lying exceedingly ill and two medical men were in attendance, one having been called in as a consultant.

They told my visitor themselves that the child could not live. The family are Scotch, but this occurred in the neighbourhood of London. The monthly nurse suggested and urged baptism. The clergyman was sent for, and while going through the ceremony the child, who had been lying motionless, made some slight movement. Within two days that child had recovered, and is at the time of writing this as many years old as it was then weeks. The consultant subsequently expressed his dissatisfaction with the infant for having belied his prognosis.

In a case from Mull a servant, having been sent for a means of cure to a woman supposed to have skill, she found her in bed. She sat up, took the bottle containing water which had been sent for, put the mouth of it to her own mouth, and began to say some words over it. The words were spoken in a low tone, but so far as was recognised they were all “good” words.

In the case of a sick horse already quoted, the man who saw it went at once for G. T., then herding in the neighbourhood. The description of the interview is as follows: “When I reached him he said, ‘Peter, you need not tell me your business here.’ I said, ‘No.’ We went together to a little stream, and he said that I might now tell him what had brought me. When I told him, he asked me if I had tobacco. They do nothing without pay; not money, but tobacco and things like that. I knew he would ask for it, and I had it with me, and when I gave it him he asked if I had a bottle. I had a good notion of every turn he had, and so had taken a bottle with me, and when I gave it to him he turned his back to me and began lifting the water and saying the words. There was not a bad word in all he said, no, no. He said to me when he gave me the bottle and told me how to use it, ‘Your horse will be all right, Peter, as soon as you use it.’” His statement came true.

Things are not, however, always reported as of such an innocent and Christian character. A collector happened to be present at a conversation between two believers in the Evil Eye. One of them said, “Those who are working at such as that, applying _eolas_, are not helped but by the ‘bad one,’ for if it were that they were doing good they would not need to be hiding themselves when they would be at it. P. McL., a decent man, said his cow was injured, and sent for A. T. The cow was in a little hut, and when A. went in where the cow was P. put his ear to a little window that was in the wall, and he said, that when he heard such language as A. had, he would never again send for her should every cow he would have be unwell. She put her cap under her two knees—she was bare-headed and with her knees bare, but kneeling on her cap apparently—and she prayed to the vile one. (‘_Ghuidh i ris an fhear mhosach._’) B. said, ‘Was that the time she said that my father’s brother injured the cow?’ That was the very time. You were living beside P. then.”

FORM OF PAYMENT

“The labourer is worthy of his hire.” A case has been already given where the reciter said that nothing was done without pay, but not of money. We must not generalise in that way. A native of Tiree says, speaking of his experience in the cure of a horse of his father’s, “All these _eolas_ folk must get a piece of silver. It may be a shilling or two shillings. This they say makes the cure more certain, and they cannot promise a cure without it. The lad took with him a two-shilling piece and went to an _eolas_ man who lived five miles away.”

Apparently the silver is given in the form of money as the most convenient medium, though there is good reason for the supposition that the whiteness of silver makes it specially appropriate as a medium of remuneration.

The instance in which the child that was ill is described as if singing “do re do,” the woman who cured it received from the father tea and sugar which he had taken with him when he went to consult her; but she said to “my man” (it was the mother who recited the incident) “that she was not wanting anything and would do it for us for nothing, but that he would need to come back with white silver. I sent him back with a sixpence to give her.”

An innkeeper, a well-read, shrewd woman of about five-and-forty, tells of a case with which she was well acquainted in which a near neighbour consulted an old man, wanting him to bring back her butter. “She said that she would pay him if he would bring it back to her.” He said that he did not want payment, but at the same time he could not bring it back unless he were paid in silver for doing so; that being so, he would require to take something from her, as otherwise the cure would not be successful. So she gave him the silver and soon had all the butter that she lost.“

Another reciter having been accustomed to do the churning in his father’s house, after his father’s death, his stepmother sent for him because she herself could not get any butter from the churn. He did his best, but was unsuccessful. Having had a horse cured by _eolas_, he suggested that the same man should be consulted. The man arrived, and the case was explained, the woman stating, “_Feuch gun toir sibh dhachaidh an toradh oir tha e air falbh._” (“Try if you can bring back the due produce, for it is gone.”) “I’ll do that,” he said, and he did it by his _eolas_; there was plenty butter on the churn. It cost the woman a crown, but if it did, that was better than that the butter should be lost.

A woman who prepared a bottle for a sick cow charged the man who consulted her “two shillings for the bottle, and when she took the money she poured a little water on it and spat on it.” She might, one would think, with advantage have changed the order of her proceedings.

A sick bull which the veterinary surgeon had given up was referred to an _eolas_ woman, the principal argument being that her assistance “would only cost a shilling.” She ordered a bucket of water to be thrown over the animal, and it recovered.

A Mull woman tells how her grandmother when newly married, after having reared calves, could only get butter of such an ugly colour that nobody would eat it, and it was used for greasing wool before carding. She was asked by a neighbour for a bowl of butter one day, and accused of greed for refusing it while she had eight cows. She explained the position, and was then advised to consult an old man, the neighbour adding that she would be coming back in a fortnight, when there would be plenty of butter to give her. The results of the consultation were fairly successful, though the _eolas_ man explained that she would not for that year have so much butter as she should have, but that she should consider herself lucky that her cattle had not died. The reciter then said that her grandmother gave the man “plenty for his trouble, but did not grudge it.” When the old woman called on her way back she said, “Well, you can give me the butter now.” To which her friend replied, “Yes, I am thankful to you that I can.” And she gave her a good bowl of butter.

In the above case payment seems to have been in kind. A native of Ardnamurchan tells of a neighbour of her mother’s who had a number of cows and lost the due product of the whole of them. Her mother’s people were sitting down to dinner when a beggar woman came and asked, “_An sibhse a’ bhoirionnach a chaill an toradh?_” (“Are you the woman who has lost the milk and butter?”) “My mother was very fond of her neighbour, and thinking she might find out on her behalf how the milk might be got back, she answered that she was. The beggar woman said, ‘_Ma bheir sibh dhomh lan meise de mhin bheir mise air ais dhuibh e._’ (‘If you will give me a (wooden) dishful of meal I will bring it back to you.’) My mother said that she would give her all that was on the table if she would bring it back, and then ran to the neighbour’s house to tell what she had heard. They returned together and told the beggar woman whose cows really had been ill.” They are said to have been cured. Here also the payment was promised in kind.

A native of Harris tells us of an old man in Stornoway much consulted, who “would undertake for so much money to bring milk and butter back.”

An Islay man gives us “_ni a chunnaic mise mi fein_” (“a thing I saw my own self”). This was the cure of his father’s cow. A certain George T. “came the way” “_b’e duine corr bha ann an Deorsa so, aig an robh moran sgil mu’n chronachaidh_.” (“This George was a decent man, he had much skill about _cronachadh_.”) The cure is described, and the reciter continued: “_Cha b’e duine bha’ n an Deorsa a ghabhadh rud sam bith: ’se sin cha ghabhadh e pris airson a sheirbhis ann a leithid so do ni._” (“George was not a man that would take anything for his service in such a thing as this.”) “And my mother said to him, ‘Will you take a cup of tea, George?’ ‘It is I that will,‘ he said, for he had been about the cow a long time. When they were taking the tea they were keeping an eye on the cow now and again. She took a long time that she did not bend down her head, but at last she gave a shake to herself, and George said to my mother, ‘Your cow is right, woman.’ In a little while she gave the next shake, and again the third shake, and with that she was as well as she had ever been.”

THE NECESSITY OF FAITH

A native of Lewis who professed disbelief in the Evil Eye, though she knew numbers who did believe, was advised when her cow was ill to send for a skilled woman. She refused. A woman who was in the habit of assisting when they were busy, being told she might do as she liked, went to the _eolas_ woman. When our reciter, Mrs. McN., looked into the byre shortly afterwards she found the servant girl and the occasional assistant hiding a bottle. “I asked them what they had in the bottle. The woman answered that she had just gone to K. McI. for _eolas_, and that that was what was in the bottle. They had put it in the cow’s ears and over her back in the name of the Trinity, and the woman remarked that if it would not do good it would do no harm at any rate. I told them again that I did not believe in it at all, and as it turned out I did not need to believe it, for the cow died not long after. But if I did not believe the woman did, and so did the person who had made the _eolas_, and they maintained that it was because I did not believe in it that it failed to cure the cow, for it is believed the success of _eolas a chronachaidh_ in its attempts to cure depends much upon whether it is believed in or not.”

Compare this with the statement of another reciter, who on hearing of a case of cure said, “When I was herding, one of the cows was _air a cronachadh_, but the people did not believe in _eolas_, and if it had not been that some of the neighbours went to A. T. the cow was dead.”

In another case in which the owner of the sick cow said that there was many a thing that might happen to a beast, and that she did not believe that the cow had been hurt by the Evil Eye. A friend persisted in her opinion that it was the Evil Eye, and when the reciter’s mother refused to send for _eolas_, the woman went off herself and came back with a bottle which she sprinkled on the cow, and in less than an hour the cow was eating as well as ever, and before the water had been put on her she was groaning and would neither eat nor move. The probability is, of course, that if no success had followed the application of the remedy, want of faith on the part of the owner might have been urged as a reason for failure.

PREVENTING EVIL BY BLESSING

A young man who could read and write, the son of a decidedly superstitious father, said if any one were praising another person’s beast, and danger was suspected, because praising by one that has an Evil Eye is dangerous, if the owners say “God bless it” that would prevent any mischief happening.

A native of Bernera (Harris) mentioned as among the ordinary precautions effective against the Evil Eye a person blessing himself. While another mentioned the keeping of ripe rowans (_caorain dearg_) beside him, or regularly blessing himself and his belongings, as sufficient to prevent any injury coming to him from the Evil Eye or Witchcraft. This blessing seems to have been done in quite a formal way. An old believer who can read Gaelic remembers having seen cattle blessed for the purpose of keeping away evil, and when she was young it was common in the district where she was brought up, when neighbours visited one another, for the visitor on entering the house to bless both the house and the people living in it. In this connection she told the following story: “There was at one time living in the Harris district of Islay a gentleman trained in the knowledge of the ‘Black Art’ (_Sgoil Dhubh_). He visited the Laird of Balinaby and took from every cow on his estate its due produce (_toradh_). He and the Laird passed this cow, and the visitor remarked: ‘You have a witch on the estate.’ ‘No,’ said the Laird. ‘Oh yes, there is no doubt of it.’ ‘Well, if there is, it is without my knowledge.’ ‘To whom does that cow belong?’ ‘To a widow that lives in the house over there.’ ‘Well, she must be a witch, for I can take the produce from every cow on the place except that one, but I am beat with her.’”

Balinaby called at the woman’s house and asked her what she did to protect her cow. “I do nothing,” said the woman. “You must do something, for I find that the _toradh_ can be taken from every cow on the farm but yours.” “Well,” said she, “I am a God-fearing woman, and am thankful to have the cow. Every morning I pray that she may be preserved, and when I go to milk her I bless myself and the cow. That is all I do.” This is evidently traditional, and is quoted merely as an evidence of belief in the protection granted to those who audibly place themselves under the protection of the Deity.

It is a curious fact that Balinaby (the Abbot’s Town), bulks very largely in the supernatural folklore of Islay.

A native of Tarbat, Ross-shire, already quoted as telling of a child taken ill because the visitor had not blessed it, details that visitor’s action for the cure of the child, when taxed with the dereliction, as follows. “She asked a bowl from my mother and a silver coin, which she got. She put the coin in the bowl, and going to the bedside where the child was lying, sprinkled the water on the child’s face, and wet her lips and the palms of both her hands. While doing this she blessed the child, repeated some words over it, and in a little while the bairn was quite well and as brisk as ever.”

The materials used in this cure will be considered in more detail, but the blessing was evidently an important part of it to repair a neglect in the first instance.

An old lady in Arran remembers being told of an older generation who, desiring not to injure their own or another’s beast lest there should be evil in their eye unknown to themselves, always took the precaution of blessing the animal before looking at it. The words they used were “_Gum beannaicheadh Dia am beathach_” (“That God may bless the beast”), or “_Gum beannaicheadh Dia an ni air am bheil mo shuil ag amhairc_.” (“May God bless the thing my eye is regarding.”)

PREVENTING BY DISPRAISING

The expression of a blessing seems to be merely a preventative, which of course is better than curative, if we accept the general proverb. Another preventative, when the expression of praise seems likely to be hurtful, is to miscall the animal spoken of. A man ploughing, who thought very well of his horses, said to his master on seeing another he knew approaching, “Here comes ——, and he will ruin both the horses if he can, for he has the Evil Eye.” His master said, “I’ll tell you what you will do, and if you do it he can do the horses no harm. When he begins to praise either or both just begin to run them down, and be sure you say as much against them as he shall say for them.” He of the Evil Eye came up, and commencing with “What a fine pair of horses you have,” went on to enumerate their good points. The servant objected that they looked better than they were, that their looks were the best of them, and for every point in their favour the other mentioned, the lad said something to counterbalance it. The other began to show signs of impatience, and went on his way not very well pleased with the way his opinions of the horses had been disputed. “Well done, you have saved the horses,” said his master. “Did I do it right?” said the lad. “Yes, indeed, you could not have said more than you have said.”

A native of Campbeltown is the authority for the following. Mrs. M’F. from Knapdale resided in Glasgow for some time after her marriage. She was standing at the mouth of the close one day with her first child in her arms when a little woman whom she had never seen before, and never saw again, as far as she knows, came across the street, and looking at the child began to praise it for its beauty. Mrs. M’F. had not the presence of mind to praise it above what the other woman said, nor to miscall it. Had she done either it would have prevented mischief. As it was, the child began to cry as soon as the little woman went away. It continued crying for a day and a half, and never was right afterwards. The child died. Mrs. M’F. was quite certain it had been injured by the eye of the little woman.

PREVENTING BY ROWAN AND JUNIPER

Every one knows of the value of the rowan tree as a preventative of witchcraft. It is equally effective apparently against the Evil Eye. It is scarcely worth while dilating on this, but it would not do to neglect it. A resident in the Chanonry had a near neighbour terribly suspicious of interference with her cow. She would never allow a cow away from her own ground until she had first tied a sprig of rowan to its tail.

A native of Kintyre, the opposite side of the country, connects this observance with May Eve, on which occasion it was common to tie a sprig of rowan to the cattle’s tails. Above we have mentioned rowan berries as equally efficacious with a blessing. The rowan is tied to churns as well as to cows’ tails. Another reciter mentions a case in which, along with a bottle, a professor of _eolas_ “went to the back of his house, taking a thin slice of juniper wood (_iubhar beinne_), which he instructed was to be put between the wood of the churn and one of its hoops.”

One cannot help speculating as to what may have caused the use of these plants. We have a hint from the Chanonry that the rowan tree was attached when the cow left her own ground. Now cows leave their owners’ ground solely when sent to the bull. In connection with the _iubhar_, attention is called to the curious, incomprehensible shinty formula in which the word iubhar occurs:—

_Ciod an caman?_ (What shinty-club?)

_Caman iubhair_ (Shinty-club of yew).

_Ciod an t-iubhar?_ (What yew?)

_Iubhar athair_ (Yew of air),

of which another reciter gave the slightly altered pronunciation, _iubhar athar_ (father’s yew).[7]

A native of the Lewis says it was pretty common to protect cows from evil influences by the use of a charmed _burrach_ (cow fetter). The _burrach_ was made of different things, and when a cow calved it was fixed on her hind legs.

The _burrachs_ the writer has seen were made of hair, possibly they may have made them upon occasion of some tough wood.

Note that it was in calving that the charmed _burrach_ was of advantage, and thus the observances for the protection of the cattle are solely connected with their increase.

[7] “Games of Argyle,” pp. 33, 34.

PREVENTING BY HORSE NAILS AND SHOES

An Arran reciter said: “I was one time staying with a friend here, and I noticed that a horse nail was tied round the churn. I mentioned nothing about it till one day when washing the churn I said, ‘I suppose I may take this off,’ but would she let me, though she did not tell me why it had been put on, but I soon found that out for myself.”

Another authority mentions not the nail but the whole shoe. “The produce of the churn may be effectually protected from the Evil Eye by nailing the shoe of a colt or of an ass to the bottom of the churn. Where this is done there are not on earth that can do it harm, and many people always took care not to expose their churn without a shoe of either a colt or an ass nailed to it.”

PREVENTING BY A SMALL GIFT

A well-informed woman, an innkeeper, said that in cases where a person possessed of the Evil Eye admired anything belonging to another, no injury could follow if some little present were given to the suspected person on leaving.

Another, the daughter of a farmer, an office-bearer in the Church, in the same island, gave the same information, but quoting an older authority. Beside her father’s house was a woman who firmly believed in the Evil Eye, and the power of preventing it by this gift. The house commanded a view of the road, so that, for the most part, an old woman suspected who lived in the neighbourhood could generally be seen approaching. The woman, to whom the latter was a special object of suspicion, never failed to advise our reciter’s people of the visitor’s advent. Her advice was invariably given earnestly and in the same form: “_A ghraidh thoir ni eigin dhi, cha’n eil odds cho beag no cho suarach a bhios e, ach thoir ni eigin dhi agus an sin cha’n urrainn i do chron a dheanamh_.” (“Dear, give her something, no odds how little or how trifling, but give her something, and then she cannot do you an injury.”)

In the case of churning the small present naturally takes the form of a drink of milk to be given to any one suspected of the Evil Eye, and so a reciter said that one should always, for safety’s sake, give a visitor a drink of milk, and stated further that the beneficial effect was added to if the one who gives it first take a little of it herself before handing it to the stranger. As an illustrative incident the reciter told how Black Colin of Balinaby when out hunting happened to go to Balimony at the milking time. Not one of them offered him a drink of milk, “_Ach coma leat_” (But all the same) the following morning when the girls went to milk the cows not a drop of milk could they get, while the cows kept running and roaring as if they were mad. At once the man of Balimony, concluding that the mischief had been done by Black Colin, saddled a horse, rode to Balinaby and took all the milk from the Balinaby cows, transferring it to his own. When Colin saw this he wrote to Balimony to this effect: “_Leig leamsa agus leigidh mise leatsa_” (equivalent to “Let a be for let a be”). The reciter added that the milk was properly distributed thereafter, and that the incident was one of Black Art.

To a student of the old Bardic Irish stories the continual mention of those who are recommended for their liberality to the poetic class simply shows how they used their office for their own advantage. The tricks of the non-producers continue the same now as they were in the days of Cairbre. A poor Bodach passed the house of the manager of a detached farm. He asked if he could get a drink. The manager’s wife, who was churning at the time, left her churn and gave him a drink of water. The Bodach took his drink and went away, the woman went back to her churn, but let her churn ever so much not a bit of butter could she get. The milk became merely froth, and swelled up so that she filled all her spare dishes. That churning was no good, nor the next, nor many succeeding ones, till she was afraid to look at her churn. So things were when who should appear but the same old man with the same request. The manager himself being in, translated the request liberally and gave him plenty both to eat and drink. After resting a little the old man rose to go away, and thanking them for their hospitality, added, “If a poor man ask for a drink, do not give him a drink of water.” The significant tone suggested to the manager to ask him for advice as to bringing back the butter, offering him any reasonable reward and putting a piece of money into his hand. This he said he would soon do, and told him to tell his wife to clean her dishes and put a piece of money in the churn and churn the next day. The story goes on to say that every scrap that had been lost was got back in one churning.

As the story is told the product of each churning must have been but a small matter, but there can be little doubt that this, if not a Bardic praise of hospitality, is a beggar’s one, and the story of course no better than an _ursgeul_. The reciter added a comment of her own: “_Anns na laithean sin cha bhiodh daoine a beannachadh an cuid, agus le sin bha e furasda gu leor an cronachadh_.” (“In those days people were not in the habit of blessing their effects, and so it was an easy matter to do them harm.”) No doubt those were the days before the existence of a Free Church, but it is doubtful if there was much less expression of blessings then than in the present.

A PREVENTATIVE BY BURNING CLOTHING

Allusion has already been made, on an Islay authority, to the efficacy of burning a piece of the clothing to avert injury from any one bringing bad news (page 15). A Tiree reciter gives the same information a little more fully, and says it protects against witchcraft or the Evil Eye. “If any woman comes into a house who is suspected, those of the house should try to get a small piece of some article of her clothing, without letting her know that they have got it, and throw it on the fire; that will prevent her from taking anything away with her or leave any mischief when she goes away. If they cannot manage to get a bit of her own clothing, a good plan is, when she is leaving, to burn a rag of some kind of cloth in the fire and throw it after her as she goes.”

1 Corinthians, iii. 15. “If any man’s work shall be burnt, he shall suffer loss: but he himself shall be saved; yet so as by fire.”

PREVENTION BY SPITTING

A native of Ross-shire and a minister gives the following information. When he was living in K. a woman there had a child of about nine months old. Another woman came in, and looking at the child on its mother’s arm, remarked, “_Tha balach boidheach priseil agad an sin_.” (“You have a pretty, dear boy there.”) Without more ado the mother turned the child’s face to her and began to spit in it as hard as she could to prevent any bad effect from the other woman’s Evil Eye. The reciter said he has, in several places, heard of this being done with the view of preventing harm, and he has often heard a person in the Isle of Skye say “_Fliuch do shuil_” (“Wet your eye”) when any person praised any of his cattle. The idea was that this would put away the chance of mischief.

A native of Mull describes the practice as common there, particularly as a preventative of injury to young children. Spit on your finger and rub an eye of the child to be protected with the moistened finger. This was called _fliuch an t-suil_ (eye wet), and was commonly practised and believed by many to be a sufficient protection.

A farmer’s daughter, whose people have been for generations in the same place in Islay, tells how she was scandalised by this practice. “We had a web of cloth to sew for the boys, and the tailor we took in had the name of the Evil Eye. One day he was sitting on the table sewing, and my brother came into the kitchen to wash himself. He was but a boy at the time, and stripped to his waist. C. B. began to say that his skin was very white, and he was looking very well. _‘Fliuch do shuil, ’s na cronaich mi,’ ars H._ (‘Wet your eye, and do not blight me,’ said H.) ‘They will be saying, that if a body will say that when any one who has an Evil Eye is praising them, the Evil Eye can do them no injury.’ Well, when H. said that, my mother did not know where she was standing, she was so much ashamed. You see the man had the name; if it had not been for that she would not have cared much.”

But the performance of the full ceremony is still in use, and it is interesting to be able to give the personal experience of my energetic co-worker, to whom I am under so much obligation.

“A native of the Long Island was complimented by me (E. M. K.) recently on the style of her dress, and the smart appearance it gave her, when, to my surprise and amusement, stepping forward and wetting the point of her finger by putting it on her tongue, she placed the finger on my right eye, saying: ‘_Fliuch do shuil eagal gum bi mi air mo ghonadh_.’ (‘Wet your eye for fear that I may be wounded.’) She did this very good-naturedly, and explained that when one is the subject of what he may suspect to be envious praise, either in respect of person or clothing, he may protect himself from consequences that might result from the Evil Eye, by performing this ceremony on the one who has done the praising.”

It would appear that this practice is comparable with the quenching of a cinder in water—by wetting, the fire of the eye may be supposed to be extinguished beneficially for the one on whom it might have an evil influence.

PREVENTING BY CHURNING

It is specially difficult to distinguish between the Evil Eye and witchcraft in the case of loss of the due produce of cattle—butter, cream, &c. Certain preventatives are good for both. When any one is churning and a visitor enters to whom any suspicion is attached of the power of interfering with the butter, any such power can be taken from her by getting her to do a spell of the churning. A woman, a strong believer in witchcraft and the Evil Eye, invariably if she happens to go into a house where churning is going on, takes the churn staff and gives a pull at the churn, believing, by this means, that she frees herself from suspicion if the churning go wrong. This woman, though a professed believer in witchcraft and the Evil Eye, neither professes practising it nor has ever been suspected by others.

An Excise officer in Islay kept some cattle. The servant was churning, but though there was an appearance of butter, it could not be brought to anything. The mistress of the house wondered what had come over the milk, and a neighbour said that a woman who lived in the neighbourhood, credited with the Evil Eye, had been in, and added, the best plan was to send for her and get her to take a spell at the churn, which would neutralise any bad influence she might have exerted. Acting on this advice, the woman was sent for, and on coming was requested to give a turn at the churn. She did not seem to be very willing, but no further remark being made, she took the churn staff and churned for a while, and the butter was got all right.

Another woman who was present when this was told doubted it being in anybody’s power to do harm in that way, whereupon the reciter declared that she believed it to be quite true and had experienced it with the same woman, and then detailed how she had caused the fowls to drop soft-shelled eggs, already quoted.

A domestic servant, speaking of this churning difficulty, said that when she went into houses where they were churning they would not mind her. “Many a time,” she added, “they have asked me to give them help with the churn.” She apparently had not appreciated the reason of her assistance being asked.

The explanation suggested for this procedure is, that if one does not want the churning to be successful they will not do anything to assist it; and, _vice versâ_, if they do give their help it is considered as evidence of their desire to bring it to a successful termination.

PREVENTION BY PECULIARITY IN CLOTHES

When speaking of the liability of nice-looking, well-dressed children suffering injury, the prevention by turning an article of clothing outside in was mentioned. The authorities in these cases are from Harris and from Islay. To show further the extent of this belief, a Ross-shire man says a thing he has often seen done for the prevention of evil influences was to turn a child’s coat or other garment wrong side out, because: “It is believed that a witch is rendered powerless in respect of any person who happens at the time when they might be injuriously affected to be wearing any article of clothing wrong side out.”

Another preventative in connection with clothing also comes from Harris. When a dress is put on for the first time a small burning peat or burning stick is waved over it, inside and out, and this is believed to be an efficient protection of the wearer from an attack by the Evil Eye. This is evidently the purification by fire already alluded to.

Attracting the Evil Eye by a piece of cloth also appears in the following from a farmer and office-bearer in the church, a man of about seventy, but an undoubted believer in what we may call superstitions. Where he was brought up a rag was put in a _bruchag_ (cranny) of the wall at the head of every milk cow in the byre as a protection against the Evil Eye.

TAR AS PREVENTATIVE

The application of hot pitch to open wounds in ancient surgery is a well-known fact. It may have acted as an antiseptic, and like its congener tar applied for skin eruptions, may have so got into popular use as a preventative of evil. In the island of Islay tar was well known as an application against the Evil Eye, but its use seems to have been restricted to Beltane night, May Eve. One of our reciters, a man now of about fifty, when herding cattle as a boy remembers how all the time he was on the farm of C. at a fixed hour on _Oidhche Bhealtuinn_ he went to the byre with the farmer and his son. They took with them a small pot of tar and a bit of stick, little larger than an egg-spoon. Our reciter held the dish while the son took hold of the ears of each of the cattle in turn and the old man put a little tar into each ear with the stick. If any words were spoken the boy did not hear them.

Another old man, a man of eighty, can neither read nor write, without any English, adds to the putting it in the ears that it was also put on the noses of the cattle for the purpose of “preventing injuries from the Evil Eye.”

Another, a woman of about fifty-five, says her father was regular in the habit of putting tar on the horns of his cows on May Eve to protect the beasts from the Evil Eye.

A fourth reciter says he has often seen it put on the horns and ears, and also rowan berries tied to the cows’ tails on the same occasion, and adds that this was usually accompanied with the repeating of some good words to protect the beasts from being hurt with the Evil Eye.

The germicide powers of tar products seem to have been further reaching, and even more highly appreciated in those days than they are now.

NICKING THE EAR

The ears, we now see, played a prominent part in the treatment of _cronachadh_, and we learn on the authority of a minister how that in the case of a quey supposed to be affected by the Evil Eye, the owner loosed it from its stall, cut a slit in its ear, repeating some incantation the while.

From a man of about fifty-five, a joiner, we have confirmation of this. He remembers of a beast dying where he lived when he was a boy, and of seeing the woman to whom the animal belonged and another _cailleach_ sitting over the dead beast cutting a piece out of its ear. They kept the piece they cut. On asking why the women were handling the dead animal, he was told that the piece cut from its ear would prevent an Evil Eye affecting the rest of the cattle.

Weak or unhealthy eyes are in popular belief cured by piercing the ear (and wearing earrings).

URINE AS PREVENTATIVE

The detergent, and let us say with all gravity, the cleansing power of stale urine, is well known, and it is hardly to be wondered at when we find this used to clear away, as it were, evil influences.

“There was at one time a farmer in Gruinart who used regularly to sprinkle his cows when putting them out with the contents of the chamber pot. This was with the view of protecting them against witchcraft, and I have done that myself.”

Our informant for this was a woman of about sixty. This is supported by another reciter in Islay, who said it was done in the morning.

Two other reciters tell that it was done in spring, or the early part of summer, when they were put out on the grass “for the first time that season.” The sprinkling was done with a broom from the chamber pot as the cattle were passing out of the byre.

What was good for cows was also considered good for horses; they also got their share of attention. Finally, in this particular, an intelligent crofter’s wife who can read, and is of about seventy years of age, informs us that it was customary to collect the bedroom slops for a day or two before the birth of a child. So soon as the child was born, to prevent any mischief from _cronachadh_, the house was sprinkled both outside and in. She saw this done in her mother’s house.

The remark that this sprinkling was done when the cattle were first turned out, and of a statement that it was common among farmers to have the services of a man believed to have _colas_ to notch the ears of cattle on May Eve against witchcraft, have to be taken together, May Day being supposed to be a specially active moment for the witch sisterhood. Two reciters mention this sprinkling with “salt” and “urine” in connection with each other. That they were looked upon as having somewhat the same action there can be no doubt, whatever analogy drawn between the two may have existed in the mind of the reciter. One of the two reciters gave an instance which, though undoubtedly unperceived by the narrator, throws a sidelight upon the ideas connected with it. The mother of our reciter consulted an _eolas_ man for the bettering of defective churning. He gave her a bottle, directing her to hold it in her hand all the way on her journey home, and on no account to let it touch the ground. When she got home she was to sprinkle some of it on the cow and the outside of the churn, and round about it. On her way home she rested for a minute, and forgetting about the instructions, put down the bottle. Sprinkling the cow did no good, and the scientist was again consulted. _“Leig thu leis fheum a chall,” ars S._ (“You allowed it to lose its usefulness,” said S.) “_Rinn i gair bheag ag’radh gun do leig i sios e car mionaid._” (“She smiled, saying that she had let it down for a minute.”) “_Chaill thu e mata._” (“You have lost it, then.”) Now comes the incident mentioned on page 119 of his retiring to the back of the house and giving his consulter the slip of _iubhar-beinne_ (juniper), the flavouring matter of gin, the most diuretic of stimulants.