Chapter V: Appendix: (a) Surprising Story of the Devil of Glenluce 302 (4)

"The person is a young woman, unmarried, of the age of about twenty years, whose name is Jonet Fraser, or, as we in the south used to pronounce it, Frissel, who then lived, and yet lives, with her father, Thomas Frissell, a weaver to his trade, a man of unblamed conversation, in the sheriffdome of Dumfries, in the countrey thereof called Nithisdale, and parochin of Closeburn, six miles, or thereby, from the town of Dumfriece.

"She is, and hath been for a long time, a person in the judgment of all that know her a serious Christian; and was for a good time before this befell her, more then ordinary exercised in private condition with God, as the relation after-specified gives the reader a little touch.

"She can read print, but cannot write herself; but whatever she saw in vision, was at times able to give ane exact account of it, after all was over; and accordingly did give the relation following to some creditable gentlemen, and some country people, her acquaintance:--

"The time of my exercise was eight years, and all this time was troubled with the appearance of a thing like a _bee_, and other times like a black man, and that also at severall times, and in severall places.

"Then at the end of the eight year, I being at prayer, the black man did appear as at other times, he being upon the one side of me, and there appearing upon the other side a bonny hand and a rod in it, and the rod was budding; and I said, 'Is that Thy hand and Thy rod, O Lord?' And I was content to embrace the one, and flee the other. Then, upon that night eight nights, I was coming home near hand unto my dwelling, I grew very drowsie, and fell asleep, and there was a voice said to me, 'Awake, why sleepest thou?' And there was lightning round about me; and I looking up to the top of a bush that was at my hand, there was the shape of a dove that went alongst with me in company to the house.

"Then, about three quarters of a year thereafter, the rod appeared again to be a double rod, or a rod that was springing and forthcoming, and after that time I was never troubled with the black man any more."

Her first revelation was on the 4th of June, 1684, but it is very difficult to make out what her visions portended:--"On the 5th day of November, 1684, I being at prayer, there appeared unto me, in a bodily shape, three persons (as to my sight all in white), and they goe round about me the way the sun goeth; their coming was still after one manner, when I was at my duty, only I discern he that spoke first at one time, spoke first at all times, and so continued to speak by course, with Scripture notes, naming books, chapter, and verse--sometimes all the verse, sometimes a part."

She was greatly concerned about the _suffering remnant_, and had many mysterious responses as to that. This intercourse with spirits continued for some years, and is very circumstantially detailed in the MS., at the conclusion of which is this additional miracle:--

"Besides what the reader has had formerly, he has likewise this following account of a passage that befell this holy woman, the 1st May, 1687, which was Sunday. This Jonet Frazer, and a young lass, a sister daughter of hers, about 17 or 18 years of age, having gone out into the fields, and both of them lying down on the grass near the water of Nith, which is but a bow-draught from her father's house, and both of them reading their Bibles, and lying about the distance of four yards the one from the other, this Jonet Frazer is taken with a great drouth, and goes to the water of Nith to take a drink, leaving her Bible open at the place where she was reading, which was the 34th chap. of Esaiah, from verse 5 to 11, inclusive, which begins--'For my sword shall be bathed in heaven; behold it shall come down on the people of Idumea, and upon the people of my curse, to judgment,' etc. And when she had returned immediately as shoon as she could take a drink of water, she sees her Bible is coloured with bloud, as she thought, though afterwards, upon inspection and tryall it was not bloud, but red as bloud, and such as no person by the colour could discern from bloud; upon which she asks the other lass, 'If any thing had been near her Bible?' And she answered, 'Nothing that she saw.' She asks, 'How could it then be that her Bible was covered over with bloud?' Which both of them going near, found to be the very same place where Jonet was reading, viz., from verse 5 to 11, and some farther of the 34th chap., so as the print was not at all legible. The other lass would have her wipe off the blood, but she could not, but carried it as it was to her father, and a brother of hers, a godly young man, who is dead since, and some others, and did show it to them, who were curious to taste it, and it had a welsh taste, as if it had been some metear; the hens and birds would not pick it up.

"The very next Lord's day, 8th May, this Jonet being in her father's barn about ane hour alone, some little time before sunset, she came to the door of the barn to read, and while she was reading, about the 49th verse of Jeremiah, the like bloud did cover all that place which she was reading, viz., from the 46th verse to the 54th, as I remember, so thick as it marred all the print and made it unintelligible, nor did she ever perceive it fall down upon the book, or observe it till it did cover and spread over all that place; and it is to be remarked, she was standing within the door, the thatch of the barn being over her head and over the book that she was reading on, and that the bloud covered the print in the very time wherein she was reading, it spread over that part of it.

"The very next Sabbath thereafter, 15th of May, while she is again in that same barn, reading the 14th chap. of Revelations, the like bloud fell on the book, and covered all the chapter from the 9th verse to the end of the chapter, in the very act of the reading it, and which, she said, that she perceived it not, but about half ane inches distance from the book before it fell down upon it.

"The relater heirof is Maister Henry Maxwell, of Dalswinton, who dwells within two miles of the place where she dwells; saw the Bible, and the bloud upon all the three places of that Bible, which is still extant.

"It is not bloud, for it is as tough as glew, and will not be scrapped off by a knife as bloud will; but it is so like bloud as none can discern any difference by the colour."

After this course of vision and bloody showers, Mrs Frazer, it would appear, fell under the suspicion of dealing with evil, in the place of good, spirits. For in the year 1691 she was called before the Presbytery and confessed: "That she pretended to prophecying and seeing of visions, and that she had sinned greatly in being deluded by Satin, causing her prophecie and see things future. Her book was appointed to be examined by two of the Presbytery; and on her second appearance she acknowledged that she was possessed by some evil spirit, and humbly besought the prayer of the ministers and of all others; upon which the further examination of herself and the witnesses was delayed. Nothing more is heard of her."(48)

_Records of Penpont Presbytery, 1706._

From January to March in the year 1706 the Presbytery of Penpont was occupied with the case of the Rev. Peter Rae, minister of Kirkbride. Mr Rae was slandered by a woman who alleged that he called her a "witch," and when sick said to her, "They say you have my health, so give it again if you have it," and also called her to come near hand him, and when she came he presently bled her on the "forrit" (forehead).

It was proved that Mr Rae did call her a witch, and did in his illness endeavour to draw blood from her brow, for which he was rebuked.

In 1737 Mr Rae was translated from Kirkbride (an extinct parish in Nithsdale now embraced in the parishes of Durisdeer and Sanquhar) and became minister of Kirkconnel. He was also clerk to the Presbytery of Penpont, before whom in earlier years he appeared. He is perhaps better known as the author of _The History of the Late Rebellion_[15] (1715). A man of outstanding ability, his memory is honoured by a mural tablet placed in the south wall of Kirkconnel church.

_Glencairn Kirk-Session Records._

"Apryl nynth, 1694."--Case of Margret M'Kinch (not "_M'Onrick_," as given by Monteith,[16] p. 44). In the evidence it is stated that:

"Robert Muir in Dunregon came in to James Rodgerson's hous, drew his knyf and offered to blood her abov ye b----" [paper torn--breath (?)].

"On Apryl nynth, 1694, Margt. M'Kinch gave in an wrytten list of ye names who had sclandered her by calling her an witch, earnestly desiring ye Session to put the same to ---- [proof(?)] that she myght be free from ye scandal."

[Gap in the records, 1694-1700.]

10th September, 1704.--"Appoints yt it be publickly intimate upon Sabbath first that no Heritor, tennent, or Householder whatsomever within this paroch resett our harbour Jaunet Harestanes, sometime in Keir paroch, with certification."

24th September, 1704.--"Appointment obeyed in makeing intimation anent Jaunet Harestanes, reputed to be under the _mala-fama_ of witchcraft."

14th November, 1707.--Case of Alexander Deuart (not "_Douart_" as given by Monteith, p. 44):--

Alex. Deuart, gardener, at Maxwelton, is charged with having "brought back some stolen goods by charm or enchantment or some other pretended ocult quality in herbs, along with some mutterings and gestures, as makes him so commonly reputed a charmer that he is sought unto by persons from divers corners of the country to the great scandal of religion. The said Alex. being interrogated primo--Did you bring back those things which was stolen from Maxwelton--aiz., six pair sheets, ten ------ [undecipherable], three aprons, at one time; a large silver tumbler at another time; and a book at a third time?

_A._ Yes; I was the causer, but had no hand in it myself.

_Q._ Did you not take money for the bringing of them back?

_A._ I told them I could do such things if it was not injurious to any, and told that he took money for the bringing of them back.

_Q._ How did you bring them back?

_A._ I cannot tell that, for I promised not to tell where I received my art.

_Q._ Did you make use of herbs as it is reported of you in order to the bringing of them back?

_A._ I did make use of herbs in part, but not for the bringing of them back.

_Q._ How did you make use of the herbs that you might know where they were?

_A._ I laid them under my head and dreamed of them.

_Q._ What are the herbs which had that effect upon your sleep?

_A._ I will not tell that to any living if they should saw me asunder.

_Q._ How came the cloaths back?

_A._ I must cause some brother of trade who dwells near hand them to tell them who have them that they must be brought back and they should not be wronged.

_Q._ Why did you not tell of the people who took away these cloaths, seeing thieves ought to be discovered for the good of the country?

_A._ It doth not belong to me to put out any man, otherwise I should be in eternity this day eight days.

_Q._ Did any person bring the things back, or how came they back?

_A._ I brought them not back, but the people who took them away brought them back.

_Q._ But how could the silver tumbler be brought back and put in a fast-locked room?

_A._ The person who took it flung it in at the window upon one of the shelves.

(_Notandum_--Now it was told him that all the windows were fast-snecked, as the servants who went in to take up the tumbler declared.)

_Q._ Did you not say when the tumbler was got, 'I must have the hair that was in and about it, for it is the hair of a horse which belonged to a man who is shortly to be hanged for stealing?'

_A._ Yes.

_Q._ Did you not say to Sir Walter Laurie, 'lock me ever so close in a room and I will cause all the cloaths that were taken away hang down upon the spouts of the tower upon the morrow morning?'

_A._ Yes.

_Q._ Did you not say before me, the Minister, 'lock the cloaths again in as fast a room as you can, and I'll cause them, for a little money, go all back in the place where they were?'

_A._ Yes.

_Q._ Why did you not bring back the silver spoon that was lost?

_A._ It was in Edinburgh, and the name was scraped out, and I could not bring it back until I went to Edinburgh.

_Q._ Why did you not bring back the mattock and other things?

_A._ It had been on fire.

_Q._ Why did you not bring back all the aprons, for there is one of them awanting yet?

_A._ I could not bring it back because it was burnt, and when a thing is hid beneath the ground or the like I can't get wott of that.

_Q._ Did you not mutter some words when you used these charms?

_A._ Yes.

_Q._ What are they?

_A._ 'Cloaths, cloaths, cloaths, and other things lost.'

_Q._ Whether did you use such charms afore Hallow-een as throwing nuts in the fire, sowing seeds up and down the house, and herbs to every corner, going backwards from the fire to the door, round the close backwards, up the stairs backward, and to your bed backward?

_A._ Yes.

_Q._ Being told by a Minister that from what he had heard there was either devolrie in it, or he was the thief himself. To which he replied, 'I shall make it out to be no devolrie; or if it be devolrie, it is unknown to me.'

_Q._ Did you not bring back a book of Mrs Violet's?

_A._ Yes.

_Q._ Did you not say you could cause any woman in London come down to you if but told her name?

_A._ I could do it, and I can.

_Q._ Did you not say in the presence of Sir Walter Laurie, Bailie Corbet in Dumfries, James Gordoun, Wryter, Yr., and me, that you could cause any of us dance naked?

_A._ I did, if you would take what I give you; and also added that he could cause any woman follow him if she would take what he would give her.

_Q._ Alexander, where learned you that art?

_A._ I learned it from the gardener at Arnistoun, now dead, but was at my brothering.

_Q._ But are there any alyve that was at your brothering?

_A._ No.

After all which, the Moderator said unto him: 'Saunders, did you not say to me when I was poseing you privately about these things, and telling you that from all I had heard from you that I was convinced that you were either a thief or a devol?' and you replied, 'Pursue me, sir, before either Session or Presbytery, and I shall show that I am neither.' And now, Saunders, after all these interrogatories are considered, I rather think you did take these things yourself, and therefore you can get no testificat (certificate) until your business be further cognosed upon."

13th July, 21st Sept., and 26th Oct., 1712.--Complaint from Jean Howatson in Nies that Margaret Nivison in Crichen had called her "a witch and a resetter of witches."

Both rebuked for their "scandelous and offensive expressions," and "Injoyned to abstain from any such offensive carriage in time comeing, certifying withall that if they be found quarrolling with one another unjustly this process shall be revived again upon them."

_Indirect references affecting Durisdeer and Torthorwald._

_Parish of Durisdeer._--In 1591 a member of the family of Douglas of Drumlanrig, "Barbara Naipar, spous to Archibald Douglas," was accused of witchcraft and condemned to be burned on the Castle Hill of Edinburgh. Examination of the indictment shows that the charge was really implication in the crime by countenancing and seeking help from "users and abusers of witchcraft," which, as we have seen, carried with it the extreme penalty.

The following is the extract from Pitcairn's _Criminal Trials_:--

"May 8, 1591.--Barbara Naipar, spous to Archibald Douglas, burges of Edinburgh (brother to the Laird of Carschogill), Dilaitit of sindrie poyntis of witchcraft, contenit in Dittay gewin in against hir be Mr David M'gill of Cranstoun--Rydell, advocat to our soverane lord.

"The Assyse, be the mouth of Robert Cuningham, chancillor, ffand, pronunceit, and declarit the said Barbara Naipar to be fylit, culpabill and convict of the seiking of consultation from Annie Sampsoune, ane wich, for the help of Dame Jeane Lyonne, Lady Angus, to keip hir from vomiting quhen sche was in breeding of barne. Item, for the consulting with the said Annie Sampsoune, for causing of the said Dame Jeane Lyonne, Lady Angus, to love hir, and to gif hir the geir awin hir agayne, and geiving of ane ring for this purpois to the said Anny, quhill sche had send her ane courchie (kerchief) of linning and swa for contravening of the Act of Parliament, in consulting with hir and seiking of hir help, being ane wich, &c."

"Dome was pronunceit against Barbara Naipar, the sister-in-law of the Laird of Coshogle."[17]

_Torthorwald, 1596._--As Saul consulted the Witch of Endor, so in later days was the powers of witchcraft invoked by the most exalted to find out what fate or fortune the future held for them.

Of the wife of Captain James Stewart, Earl of Arran, it is told "that she got a response from the witches that she would be the greatest woman in Scotland, and that her husband should have the highest head in that kingdom. Both which fell out; for she died, being all swelled out in an extraordinary manner; and he, riding to the south, was pursued by the Lord Torthoral (called Douglas[18]), whose whole family the said Captain James intended to have extirpated, and was killed, and his head carried on the point of a spear and placed upon the battlements of Torthorwald Castle."(49)

_CHAPTER IV._

FAIRIES AND BROWNIES.

"There's als much virtue, sense, and pith,
In Annan or the Water of Nith,
Which quietly slips by Dumfries,
Als any water in all Greece;
For there, and several other places,
About mill-dams, and green brae faces,
Both eldrich elfs and brownies stayed,
And green-gowned fairies daunced and played."
--_Effigies Clericorum._

No part of the folk-lore of a district finds more favour than that particular vestige which tells of the doings of "fairies and brownies," the mere expression "fairy" at once calling up and suggesting green-clad dainty figures, dwelling amid picturesque sylvan surroundings; although probably the memory of the "brownie," and the stories of his helpful midnight task, strike the more human note.

It is the "fairy," however, outshining the humbler toiling "brownie," not only in gallant bearing and romantic surroundings, but in the further possession of greater supernatural power, that is the more fascinating survival of superstitious tradition.

Popularly imagined, they were diminutive in form, elegant in appearance, and richly attired. They dwelt in a land of their own, in woodland dells where

"Underneath the sylvan shade
The fairies' spacious bower was made,"

or in beautiful palaces underneath the green conical mounds, so numerous, particularly in Galloway and the south-west of Scotland. Their lives and affairs were ruled by the utmost ceremony and grandeur. A King or Queen presided over their destinies. Their pageants and tournaments were the very reflection of Courtly gallantry. Processions were a frequent form of display; and clothed in exquisite green raiment, and mounted on bravely caparisoned milk-white steeds of the finest mettle, they passed with haughty mien and lordly air, that impressed to the utmost the minds of the mortals who might chance to meet them in all their pomp and bravery. The banquet-board and feast also were daily in evidence, and through their princely halls, to the most exquisite music, the stately dance went round.

The attitude of the fairies towards mankind was, generally speaking, kindly and helpful, so much so that by the country people they were often termed the "good neighbours" and the "wee fouk"; but underneath all their display of nobility, an elfin craftiness and capriciousness of disposition existed, malignant to a degree. They did not, for example, ride unarmed, but had bows and arrows of peculiar power and potency slung at their sides ready to assail the too curious human being or menacing beast. The bows themselves were fashioned from the ribs of men buried "where three Lairds' lands meet," and the arrows, which hung in quivers made from adders' sloughs, were "tipped with deadly plagues." When mortals offended, it was on their cattle the fairies usually wreaked their vengeance by shooting them with their magic bows and arrows. Such elf-shot cattle exhibited all the symptoms of malignant cramp. Animals quite as innocent, but who, blunderingly unconscious, threatened to trample their diminutive bodies under foot as they passed along, were as summarily treated--at least that was a common explanation to account for puzzling forms of cattle-ill; for the wound of the true elf arrow was so small that evidence of penetration was almost impossible of vision, unless by the eye of those favoured and deeply skilled in fairy-craft practice. A less vague and more material description of the fairy arrows was, that "these fatal shafts were formed of the bog reed, pointed with white field flint, and dipped in the dew of hemlock." To this day the triangular flints of the Stone Age are associated with the fairy superstition, being popularly known as "elf bolts," and the occasional turning up of these flints on cultivated land, finds a superstitious explanation in the belief that a shower of these arrows discharged into a field was quite sufficient to blast and wither the expected crop.

The special characteristic of the evil element in the disposition of the fairies was however, a persistent practice of kidnapping unchristened infants, substituting for them baby imps of their own, which in old-world phraseology were known as "changelings." Such changelings could only be detected and expelled by certain charms and mystic practice, which also permitted the real babe to be restored. The explanation of such kidnapping was that every seventh year "Kain," in the form of a living sacrifice from the ranks of the fairies, was demanded by Satan, their master, as the price of the supernatural privileges they enjoyed, but as a mortal infant was as readily accepted, the fairies naturally acted in accordance, much preferring to lay a human babe at the feet of the Evil One.

Very naturally the thought of such disastrous possibilities to the domestic life and joy of the people created means and measures to render this particular design of the fairies impotent and inefficient. The cutting of a cross on the head of the cradle, or even over the doorway of the cottage itself, was supposed to "kep skaith" by means of its sacred significance; and immediately before the birth of a child it was a common practice to surround the expectant mother with everything about the household made of steel, such as scissors, wool-clippers, knives, needles, and so forth, which it was firmly believed kept the evil disposition of the fairy spirits at bay, and prevented any unhallowed tampering with the child. It was also customary for the friends of the house when the child was born, to form a guarding circle round it during the darkness of the night, while one of their number was specially employed in waving about the open leaves of a Bible. The risk of abduction immediately ceased after the child was christened. It may here be mentioned that at all times the sound of a church bell immediately broke the fairy power and spell.

The abduction of human beings was not altogether confined to babes, and it will be remembered that James Hogg's fine ballad of "Kilmeny" is founded on a young maiden being carried off to Fairyland, who in the course of time is allowed to return to the world again when, as so beautifully expressed in the ballad,

"Late, late in the gloamin'
Kilmeny cam' hame."

Young married women were more especially liable to be carried off, for the utilitarian purpose of nursing the fairy children, and young men were also occasionally supposed to be stolen away.

It may be noted that it was not considered good for mortals to meet with fairies face to face, however much by accident. Death might even follow such a meeting, although apparently quite natural in form.

Touching upon the very core of unreality of fairy semblance it would seem to have been a general belief, that seen through eyes of those gifted with supernatural power such as in olden days the "seers" were believed to possess, the whole fairy fabric crumbled to its true appearance. Golden treasure became ordinary stone, fairy palace changed to gloomy cavern, and the beautiful beings themselves became ugly and repulsive goblins.

Before passing to gather up the remnants of this fairy-lore in Galloway and Dumfriesshire, it may be of interest to refer to the theory which has been advanced to account for the firm belief by our forefathers in the existence of "fairies and brownies," which briefly is, that fairies and brownies were none other than straggling and isolated survivors of the race of the ancient Pictish Kingdom of Scotland, for like the fairy and brownie of popular imagination, the Picts dwelt in underground abodes, being what is termed "mound-dwellers." They were a small people, untiring in their labours, and possessing great strength, or as it has been aptly expressed, "they were 'unca wee' bodies, but terribly strong." As well as being small in stature, they were hairy in body and fleet of foot. They were clever builders, as their underground dwellings excavated at the hands of antiquarians throughout Scotland yet affirm. Indeed there is a tradition that the 12th century Cathedral of Glasgow was largely built by industrious and skilful Picts, brought from Galloway for that purpose.

A strong point in the theory certainly is, that the localities known as the prehistoric abiding places of the Picts are almost invariably associated with fairy-lore and tradition, which has floated down to us on the misty tides of time. At all events it may be in part at least accepted, in so far as it is founded on a basis of fact, and if it does not quite explain the splendour and high-born attributes of Fairyland, it at least goes far to account for the unvarying popular description of "Brownie"--his untiring energy, his shy disposition, and his not very attractive appearance, all of which William Nicholson has painted with strokes of genius in his matchless poem, "The Brownie of Blednoch."[19]

FAIRIES IN GALLOWAY.

The great distinctive headland of the Mull of Galloway is traditionally described as the scene of the last stand made by the Picts, as they were driven backwards and seawards to destruction by the overwhelming force of the Scots.

"There rose a King in Scotland,
A fell man to his foes,
He smote the Picts in battle,
He hunted them like roes,
Over miles of red mountain
He hunted as they fled
And strewed the dwarfish bodies
Of the dying and the dead."

Not far from this classic spot, a favourite haunt of the fairies is located. South of Portankill there is a small fortification called the Dunnan. On this spot there came once upon a time to a man sitting there, on a fine summer evening, an old-fashioned looking, diminutive woman dressed in green, carrying a tiny ailing child on her back, and holding a little wooden water stoup in her hand. She earnestly asked this man to go to the far-famed and quite near "Well of the Co'" and bring her some of the healing water for the decrepit little morsel she carried, as she was tired and done. Churlishly enough the man refused, and roughly told her she could go her own errands. The little woman bore his abuse patiently enough, then, naming him, solemnly warned him "never again to sit down on her hoose-riggin' or he might look to it"--and then somehow she seemed to disappear. The man began to regret his ungracious conduct, all the more that it was generally believed that beneath the "Dunnan" lived the fairies, and if that was so, then at that very moment he was actually on their "hoose-riggin'." Much disturbed in mind, he made for home; but tradition affirms that from that day forward everything went wrong--cattle died and crops failed, and eventually, going one night to the Dunnan to watch a vessel that was likely to come ashore and so help his own evil plight, he was stricken with illness at the hands of the fairies--so the country-side said--and died.

There is yet another rather dramatic relic of fairy-lore concerning Kirkmaiden, which tells of an attempt by the fairies to seize upon the newly-born child of a herd and his wife, who were in the service of Sir Godfrey M'Culloch, and who lived in a little cottage at Auchneight, which was frustrated by a timely call for Divine aid. On the afternoon of the day of his son's birth the herd received an urgent message to proceed at once to his master's castle of Cardoness, in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright. There were many little domestic matters to attend to before the poor man could leave his wife and child to set out on his long journey, and the night was already well advanced before he left his home. It was not without anxiety and misgiving he took his way north along the western shore of Luce Bay, "down the path towards the Loup and the Co' of the Grennan," a place with a very uncanny reputation, for it was the night of the last day of October--of all times of the year the most dreaded by mortals--the night

"When Fairies ... dance,
Or ower the lays, with splendid blaze,
On sprightly coursers prance."

It was very dark, and his progress was slow. When he reached the "Loup" he was rather startled to see a faint glimmering light seawards. To his consternation this came steadily towards him, and gradually took the form of a coach lighted with blue lamps, drawn by six horses, and coming smartly on. It passed, and he could see it was crowded with elfish figures and surrounded by a galloping body-guard. His terror was not abated when he was made aware that a little blue torch, a sure forerunner of death, was burning on the side of the track they had passed along. Meanwhile his young wife and child were all alone in the cottage. About midnight the mother, to whom the night seemed unending, was startled by hearing the trample of horses, the jingle of bridles, the lumber of wheels, and a buzzing sound of voices. Clasping the child close in her arms, terror-stricken she waited. The door of the cottage flew open. The whole kitchen was lit up with a strange unnatural light, and she saw her bed surrounded by a throng of little excited green-clad people, who kept up a constant chattering. Then one more richly clad and taller than the others imperiously waved his hand for silence, and addressing the almost crazed woman, said--

"This is Hallow-eve. We have come for your child, and him we must have."

"Oh, God forbid!" shrieked the poor woman in her agony, and almost instantly there was darkness and silence as of the grave.

When the poor woman came to her senses, for she had fainted, she made bold to leave her bed, and lighting her cruisie lamp, she was overjoyed to find that her child was sleeping sweetly and soundly. Everything in the cottage was evidently undisturbed.

As some slight corroboration of this legend, it is told how the tenant of Barncorkerie, going to his door about midnight that same Hallow-eve, was startled to see a group of tiny horsemen riding in hot haste through the meadows a bowshot from his door.

The story of the Barncorkerie Fairy, in this same immediate neighbourhood, illustrates how the good offices of the fairy aided an old helpless woman in her day of necessity at the expense of an undutiful son.

On the road shorewards to Portencockerie Bay (Kirkmaiden) there is a bypath by way of what is known as the Bishop's Castle. One day there came by this road an old woman, weary of foot and sad of heart. Sitting down she wept quietly to herself, bemoaning her poverty and the unkindness of her son, and more particularly of his new-made wife, who scorned her and refused to give her even the bare necessities of life. With her eyes fixed on the ground, she almost unconsciously let her attention turn to a round whorl-like stone, with a hole through it, lying at her feet. Not attaching much importance to it she, almost absent-mindedly, picked it up, and as she did so she thought she heard some one whispering to her, but turning round and seeing no one she became a little frightened, and putting the curious little stone in her pocket, she rose to make her way home, which, by the way, bore the curious name of "Keekafar."

That same night, at the gloaming, as she was lighting her cruisie lamp, the cottage door seemed to open of its own accord, and, looking down, she saw a diminutive little woman clad in green, who, with a pleasant smile, asked how she prospered?

The old woman was a proud old woman, so she answered that she was getting along very comfortably.

But the little old woman laughed a kindly laugh and said, "Not much comfort an' a toom meal-barrel in the hoose."

The Fairy, for it was a fairy, chatted away to her for a little, and gradually won from her the whole story of her troubles; then, as she rose to go, she said, "If ye've still got that queer little stone ye fand to-day wi' the hole in it, just tie a little bit grey wurset thread through it, and lay it on the meal-ark. It'll maybes be a help."

Next night, about the same time (as it afterwards appeared), the old woman's son Godfrey, who lived with his wife on his own little croft at Portencockerie, was startled to find when he came home a little tiny woman perched on a high stool at his fireside.

"What want ye here?" he cried; and his wife, joining him, began to scold also. "Tak' yer gait, we want nae beggars here," she shouted.

The Fairy looked at them steadily with her little grey piercing eyes, then stepping from the stool on to the long wooden kitchen settle she turned to the frightened man and woman, and in a tiny penetrating voice that made them even more frightened, said--"The poor folk! much they get at your hands! But thy old mother shall never want; she shall live at your cost. Her meal-ark will be always full, and yours shall supply it!"

And so it came about. Godfrey and his wife, under the influence of fear, tried hard to make amends, but the old woman received their advances with the utmost indifference.

The Compass Stone, on the hill above Port Logan towards the south, was also a favourite place for the fairies holding their gatherings, and there is a small field at Logan known as the Fairy Park. It is said that a large company of fairies were observed by two individuals, who at the time were not near each other, crossing the fields near Kenmure, in the parish of Stoneykirk. One of the individuals said they seemed to be all talking together, and there was a continual buzz of conversation as of a large assemblage of people gathered together.

A hill between Ringuinea and the Float is associated with the fairies. Two young women went from Ringuinea one summer morning to bring the cows home to be milked, when they met what seemed to be a very beautiful child, whom they unsuccessfully made every endeavour to catch hold of. Skilfully, however, and with evident little exertion, the little figure eluded their grasp, with the result that their futile chase led to their being hopelessly behind time for the milking.

Another story tells that the farmer of Ringuinea was going down the Black Brae, when he met a very small person handsomely dressed in green. Thinking it was a strange child, he enquired where he was going so early in the morning. The supposed child answered that there was an ox down below that had annoyed him and his people for a long time by always standing on the top of their dwelling-place, but that he would trouble them no more. The farmer proceeded down the brae, and found one of his best bullocks lying dead. He went for assistance, and proceeding to skin the bullock, and knowing what to look for, they found an elf-shot right through the heart.

Kirkmaiden seems to have been a much-favoured district of the "wee fouk." The Nick of the Balloch, on the road from Barncorkerie to Castle Clanyard, Curghie Glen, and the Grennan were notoriously fairy-occupied; and between Kirkbride and Killumpha their imaginary tracks left on the stones and rocks used to be pointed out and traced. There is a curious lingering tradition in the Rhinns that the fairies of Kirkmaiden always wore red caps instead of green.

Before passing from this district of the Rhinns, reference may be made to what was firmly believed to be the kidnapping by fairies of a little boy of two years of age. The child wandered out unperceived by its mother. On being missed, an anxious search was made during the whole day by almost every person in the neighbourhood, but no trace of the child could be found. Late in the evening, however, from the top of the heugh, beside Slock-an-a-gowre, he was discovered, by the merest accident, asleep on a green plot on the cliff far below, fully two miles from his home. How he got there to this day is a mystery. To assume that any person carried or left him there seems highly improbable, and to suppose the child to have of itself crossed dykes, drains, glens, and cornfields seems even more improbable. It was therefore attributed to the fairies, all the more that the little boy lisped that he had followed other little boys wearing green clothes.[20]

Away midst the solitary grandeur of the high lands of Galloway, where the Merrick lordly towers, and where the bleat of the sheep and the cry of the whaup, the tumble and plash of burn and stream, are the only sounds that greet the shepherd's ear as he pursues his long and lonely beat, a beautiful fairy legend lingers, though human and homely enough in its trend:--

"A shepherd's family had just taken possession of a newly-erected onstead, in a very secluded spot among 'the hills o' Gallowa',' when the goodwife was, one day, surprised by the entrance of a little woman, who hurriedly asked for the loan of a 'pickle saut.' This, of course, was readily granted; but the goodwife was so flurried by the appearance of 'a neibor' in such a lonely place, and at such a very great distance from all known habitations, that she did not observe when the little woman withdrew or which way she went. Next day, however, the same little woman re-entered the cottage, and duly paid the borrowed 'saut.' This time the goodwife was more alert, and as she turned to replace 'the saut in the sautkit' she observed 'wi' the tail o' her e'e' that the little woman moved off towards the door, and then made a sudden 'bolt out.' Following quickly, the goodwife saw her unceremonious visitor run down a small declivity towards a tree which stood at 'the house en'.' She passed behind the tree, but did not emerge on the other side, and the goodwife, seeing no place of concealment, assumed she was a fairy.

In a few days her little 'neibor' again returned, and continued from time to time to make similar visits--borrowing and lending small articles, evidently with a view to produce an intimacy; and it was uniformly remarked that, on retiring, she proceeded straight to the tree, and then suddenly 'gaed out o' sight.'

One day, while the goodwife was at the door, emptying some dirty water into the jaw-hole (sink or cesspool), her now familiar acquaintance came to her and said:

'Goodwife, ye're really a very obliging bodie! Wad ye be sae good as turn the lade o' your jaw-hole anither way, as a' your foul water rins directly in at my door? It stands in the howe there, on the aff-side o' that tree, at the corner o' your house en'.'

The mystery was now fully cleared up--the little woman was indeed a fairy; and the door of her invisible habitation being situated 'on the aff-side o' the tree at the house en',' it could easily be conceived how she must there necessarily 'gae out o' sight' as she entered her sight-eluding portal."(50)

Probably the most characteristic fairy story extant in the whole south-western district of Scotland is that which centres round the green mound on which the ruined Castle of Myrton, a stronghold of the M'Cullochs in bygone days, stands. Within the policies of Monreith House, in the parish of Mochrum, on the beautifully-wooded shore of the White Loch of Myrton, this mound of Myrton is peculiarly interesting in the links its story joins of prehistoric days, fairy tradition, and seventeenth century family history.

The following account is drawn from _The Hereditary Sheriffs of Galloway_:--

"Sir Godfrey M'Culloch, having squandered his patrimony and sold his estates in Mochrum to the Maxwells of Monreith, took up house at Cardoness. Here a neighbour, William Gordon, having poinded some cattle straying on his lands, Sir Godfrey joined a party illegally convened to release them. A fray was the result, in which M'Culloch, in the words of his indictment, 'did shot at the said Gordon with a gun charged, and by the shot broke his thigh-bone and leg, so that he immediately fell to the ground, and within a few hours thereafter died of the same shot wound.' Sir Godfrey fled the country, and some years after ventured on a Sunday to attend a Church in Edinburgh. A Galloway man was among the congregation, who, recognising him, jumped up and cried: 'Pit to the door; there's a murderer in the kirk!' This was done, M'Culloch arrested, tried, condemned, and his head 'stricken fra his body' the 5th of March, 1697."

So say the _Criminal Records_. There is a very different local version of the story:--

Long before the fatal encounter, and before he had entered on the evil courses which led to his ruin, Sir Godfrey, young and curly, sat at a window in the Tower of Myrtoun watching the operations of a gang of workmen forming a new sewer from his house to the White Loch below it. Suddenly he was startled by the apparition close beside him of a very little old man whose hair and beard were snowy white, whose strangely-cut costume was green, and who seemed in a state of furious wrath. Sir Godfrey received him, notwithstanding, with the greatest urbanity, and begged to be told in what way he could serve him.

The answer was a startling one: "M'Culloch," said the visitor, "I am the King of the Brownies![21] My palace has been for ages in the mound on which your Tower stands, and you are driving your common sewer right through my chalmer of dais."

Sir Godfrey, confounded, threw up the window and ordered the workmen to stop at once, professing his perfect readiness to make the drain in any such direction as might least incommode his Majesty, if he would graciously indicate the same. His courtesy was accepted, and Sir Godfrey received a promise in return from the now mollified potentate that he, the said King, would stand by and help him in the time of his greatest need.

It was long after this that the Knight of Myrtoun disposed of his enemy in the summary way we have already mentioned, and for which he was condemned to die. The procession had started for the place of execution; a crowd was collected to see the awful sight, when the spectators were surprised by seeing a very little man with white hair and beard, dressed, too, in an antique suit of green, and mounted on a white horse. He issued from the castle rock, crossed the loch without a moment's hesitation, and rode straight up to the cart on which Sir Godfrey, accompanied by the executioner and a minister, was standing. They plainly saw Sir Godfrey get on the horse behind the little man, who was no other than the King of the Brownies (and thus fulfilled his promise by arriving in his hour of need): the two recrossed the loch, and, mounting the castle rock, they disappeared. When the astonished crowd again turned their eyes to the cart a figure was still there, and wondrous like Sir Godfrey; it was, therefore, generally believed that he had met a felon's doom, and most people thought no more about it. A few only knew better, but these cared little to speak about the matter. At rare intervals, however, one of the initiated would impart the story to a friend, and tell how a head had rolled upon the ground, leaving a bleeding trunk upon the scaffold; then adding in a confidential whisper, "It was no' him ava; it was just a kin' o' glamour."(51)

The presence of fairies was not unknown in the Whithorn district, and a realistic account of the last appearance of the fairies there has been preserved in _Droll Recollections of Whithorn_, by James F. Cannon:--

"A farmer's wife on the Glasserton estate was engaged in washing at a stream near her house, when a trig little creature of her own sex, and perfectly human in shape and general semblance, suddenly arrested her attention. The mistress stared with amazement at the mite of a body that stood by her side, and the astonishment of the former was not lessened when, with an appealing look on her tiny features, the elf solicited the favour of 'a wee sowp o' milk for an unweel wean.' They then entered freely into conversation, and walked together to the byre, where the Fairy was duly supplied with what she had asked for. She was very profuse with her thanks, and foretold that her donor would never be without a pinch of snuff (of all things) while she should require it. It was not a very hazardous prediction, nor did it give promise of great remuneration for the obligation conferred; but there was a note of gratitude in it which was thoroughly appreciated by her to whom it was spoken. I believe, however, there was an additional hint dropped that the milk pails of the elf's patroness would always be well filled, and her husband's field crops abundant."(52)

A poetical version of the above tradition has been elaborated by Mr Cannon, and appears in the _Bards of Galloway_, under the title of "The Langhill Fairy."[22]

"Riddling in the reek" was the common country-side expression for a rough-and-ready method of treating a fairy changeling so that it might be restored to its proper human constitution. A realistic account of such an ordeal is preserved in _Galloway Gossip_ (Wigtownshire). It sets forth how a child, whose parents lived in Sorbie village, behaved in such a fretful, passionate, and vixenish way that the parents were at last forced to the unwelcome conclusion that it was not their child at all, but a changeling. Much distressed they sought the advice of a wise woman living at Kirkinner, who plainly enough substantiated the suspicion. Beseeching her help, the sybil pointed out the great risk they all ran with interference with things uncanny, but on their consenting to place themselves entirely in her hands and implicitly obey her in every detail, she promised to make the attempt to restore their child on the following Aul' Hallowe'en Nicht.

"When Aul' Hallowe'en came, everything was ready and set in order, and just a few minutes before nine, in came Lucky M'Robert, and without saying a word steekit the door ahint her.

She then set two stools beside the fire, which, as usual at that time and for long after, was made on a slightly raised place in the middle of the floor, paved with water-stones. She motioned Peggy and Jamie to sit down on them, and lighting the candle, with the ether-stane on it, put it on the kerl, or long candlestick, and set it between them, and then took the rowan-wood and biggit it on the fire.

The wean looked terrified, and ran under the bed, but she pulled it out and tied his legs and arms together with some red clouts she had in her pouch, and threw't into the riddle, and lifting it up went towards the fire, the wean twining and kicking and swearing most viciously.

Mally had previously breeked her petticoats, and as soon as a thick reek rose from the burning rowan-tree, she held the wean amang the thickest o't, and riddled it in the riddle till ye wud hae thocht it wud hae been chokit.

The wean cursed and yelled, and spat at her, and called her a' that was bad, but she took nae notice; then it begged and fleech't with the father and mother to save't, for it was chokin', and went on pitiful, and then it begood and cursed them, and abused them terribly.

Then there came knockings to the door, and cries and noisings all over the house; but she riddled away, and nobody ever heeded them, till at last the wean gave a great scraich, and rase out of the riddle, and gaed whirling up amang the reek like a corkscrew, and out at the lumhead, out of sight.

Everything was then quiet for a minute or two, and at last a gentle knocking came to the door, and Mally asked who was there, and a voice cried--

'Let me in, I'm wee Tammie M'K----.'"(53)

The district of Dalry seems to have been particularly favoured by the beings of supernatural power. Witchcraft abounded, and now we shall see that Fairyland was represented.

The place, above all, of fairy association was the Holm Glen, with which is associated a legend of the abduction of a youth, and an abortive attempt to win freedom after serving seven years. Round this vestige of fairy-lore Dr Robert Trotter has woven a well-told mantle of narrative, from which an extract is well worth quoting:--

"I rose early upon the morning of Hallowe'en, and having dressed myself, I went out to the harvest field, just as the minute hand of my watch pointed to half-past five. I began busily to arrange and set up the stooks, which a storm of wind and rain the preceding evening had blown down. I had not been long occupied in this manner when I heard the tramping of horses' feet, the giggling and laughing of the riders, and the jingling of their bridle bits. I instantly turned round to see what this troop of early travellers could be; but my eye rested not then on the broad holm of Dalarran and the grey turrets of Kenmure Castle, of which there was a goodly prospect from the place where I stood--but it fell upon the tall form of a young man standing close by my side, dressed in a riding-cloak of the lightest Lincoln green ever worn by a Nottingham Archer. By his side hung a hunting-horn of the purest silver, whilst his spurs and the diamond chased scabbard of his sword glanced clear and bright in the rays of the rising sun.