do. 12 bottles more strong clarit at night to the

lodgeing 1 4 0

Janr. 9th. 4 wine glasses returned from Dunscore

Janr. 12th. 2 bottles strong clarit to the lodgeing 0 4 0

do. 10 bottles strong clarit wt Carriel & more

Gentelmen 1 8 0

Janr. 14th. 2 bottles clarit wt Carriel 0 4 8

8 dozn. empty bottles returned

The Wines amounts to 14 5 5

The Entertainments to 6 10 0

1734. ACCOMPT. OF HORSSES.

Janr. 9th. 2 horses of Lord Stormonds, 2 nights' hay, oats,

& beans £0 5 0

do. 2 horses 2 nights, hay, oats, & beans, Sr Thomas

Kirkpatrk 0 5 0

do. the smith for Sr Thomas' horsses 0 2 0

Pyd. to Charles Herisse, smith, for iron work to

the Hearse 0 5 6

Mr Gilbert's horsses 1 4 6

Grim legend clings around the account of Lag's last illness and his

funeral. "During the latter part of his life Sir Robert had taken up his

abode in his town-lodging in Dumfries. It was an ancient pile of building

of singular construction, facing the principal part of the High Street of

the town, known as the 'Plainstones.' This old house was called the

'Turnpike,' from the spiral staircase, a characteristic of it, as of many

of the old Edinburgh houses; it was situated at the head of what was

called the Turnpike Close, and little more than two hundred yards from the

Nith. The best known of the many legends regarding Lag is this: that when

he came near his end, and was sorely tormented with gout, he had relays of

servants posted so as to hand up from one to another a succession of

buckets of cold water from the Nith, that he might cool his burning

limbs--but the moment his feet were inserted into the water it began to

fizz and boil.

In this old Turnpike house[38] Sir Robert died on the 31st December, 1733.

It is related that on this occasion a 'corbie' (raven) of preternatural

blackness and malignity of aspect, perched himself on the coffin, and

would not be driven off, but accompanied the funeral cortège to the grave

in the churchyard of Dunscore.

Moreover, when the funeral procession started, and had got some little way

on the Galloway side of the Nith, it was found that the horses, with all

their struggles, and dripping with perspiration, from some mysterious

cause could move the hearse no further. Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick, of

Closeburn, the old friend and comrade of Lag (and his relative), who was

believed to be deep in some branches of the Black Art, was one of the

mourners. This gentleman, the stoutest of Non-jurors, on this occasion

swore a great oath that he would drive the hearse of Lag 'though ---- were

in it!' and ordered a team of beautiful Spanish horses of his own to be

harnessed in place of the others. Sir Thomas mounted and took the reins,

when the horses instantly dashed off at a furious gallop that he could in

no wise restrain, and abated nought of their headlong pace till they

reached the churchyard of Dunscore, where they suddenly pulled up--and

died."(76)

When the funeral cortège did start, as already indicated, curious though

quite consequent sequels were far from uncommon. Solemnity and deep

drinking only too frequently ended in unaffected hilarity or even

dissension.

MacTaggart, in his _Gallovidian Encyclopædia_, has caught and well

recorded the boisterous spirit of this grim funeral festivity, as the

following graphic description amply shows:--

"At last the Laird o' the Bowertree Buss gaed his last pawt, was

straughted, dressed, coffined and a'; and I was bidden to his burial the

Tuesday after. There I gaed, and there were met a wheen fine boys. Tam o'

Todholes, and Wull o' the Slack war there; Neil Wulson, the fisher, and

Wull Rain, the gunner, too. The first service that came roun' was strong

farintosh, famous peat reek. There was nae grief amang us. The Laird had

plenty, had neither wife nor a wean, sae wha cud greet? We drew close to

ither, and began the cracks ding-dang, while every minute roun' came

anither reamin' service. I faun' the bees i' my head bizzin' strong i' a

wee time. The inside o' the burial house was like the inside o' a

Kelton-hill tent; a banter came frae the tae side of the room, and was

sent back wi' a jibe frae the ither. Lifting at last began to be talked

about, and at last lift we did. 'Whaever wished for a pouchfu' o' drink

might tak' it.' This was the order; sae mony a douce black coat hang side

wi' a heavy bottle. On we gaed wi' the Laird, his weight we faun' na. Wull

Weer we left ahin drunk on the spot. Rob Fisher took a sheer as we came

down the green brae, and landed himself in a rossen o' breers.

Whaup-nebbed Samuel fell aff the drift too. I saw him as we came across

Howmcraig; the drink was gaen frae him like couters. Whan we came to the

Taffdyke that rins cross Barrend there we laid the Laird down till we took

a rest awee. The inside o' pouches war than turned out, bottle after

bottle was touted owre; we rowed about, and some warsled. At last a game

at the quoits was proposed; we played, but how we played I kenna. Whan we

got tae the kirkyard the sun was jist plumpin' down; we pat the coffin

twice in the grave wrang, and as often had to draw't out again. We got it

to fit at last, and in wi' the moulds on't. The grave-digger we made a

beast o'."

A notable exception to the practice of the period was the funeral of

William Burnes, father of the National Bard, who was borne from Lochlea to

Alloway Kirkyard, a distance of twelve miles, not a drop of anything

excepting a draught of water from a roadside stream being tasted.

The funeral festivities, however, did not end with the lowering of the

dead into the grave. There yet remained the final entertainment at the

house of the bereaved. If within reasonable distance at all the funeral

party returned from the churchyard to partake of the entertainment known

as the "draigie,"[39] or "dredgy." Again the drinking was long and deep,

with results that can only too readily be imagined.

But it must not be assumed that such scenes and proceedings passed without

protest on the part of the Church and those who had the welfare of decency

and morality at heart. The Presbytery of Penpont, for example, in 1736

issued the following warning to their own district:--

"Yet further how unaccountable and scandalous are the large gatherings and

unbecoming behaviour at burials and 'lake-wacks,' also in some places how

many are grossly unmannerly in coming to burials without invitation. How

extravagant are many in their preparations for such occasions, and in

giving much drink, and driving it too frequently, before and after the

corpse is enterred, and keeping the company too long together; how many

scandalouslie drink until they be drunk on such occasions; this practice

cannot but be hurtfull, therefore ought to be discouraged and reformed,

and people that are not ashamed to be so vilely unmannerly as to thrust

themselves into such meetings without being called ought to be affronted."

Despite protest and counsel, however, the custom of supplying refreshment

to mourners in the form of "services" lingered until well into the

nineteenth century.

Much good was, however, done in the south-west district of Scotland by the

firm position taken up by Dr Henry Duncan of Ruthwell, Dumfriesshire, a

personality whose memory is still held in the highest esteem and respect.

The method adopted was characteristic of the man, and is described by

himself in the Statistical Account of his Parish:--

"The present incumbent fell on a simple expedient by which this practice

has been completely abolished. Having engaged the co-operation of some of

the leading men in the parish, he drew up a subscription paper, binding

the subscribers, among other less important regulations, to give only

_one_ service when they had the melancholy duty of presiding at a funeral

themselves, and to partake of only one service when they attended the

funeral of a neighbour. This paper was readily subscribed by almost every

head of a family in the parish, and whatever was injurious in the practice

was abolished at once, ... and, speaking generally, may be said to have

effectually rooted out the former practice throughout the whole

surrounding district" (March, 1834).

After the funeral, certain old rites and customs were carried out. On the

death of a tenant the mart, or herezeld (heriot, or best aucht) was seized

by the landowner to substantiate his title. The bed and straw on which the

deceased had lain were burned in the open field. Concerning this practice

Joseph Train in a note to _Strains of the Mountain Muse_, describes how,

"as soon as the corpse is taken from the bed on which the person died, all

the straw or heather of which it was composed is taken out and burned in a

place where no beast can get near it, and they pretend to find next

morning in the ashes the print of the foot of that person in the family

who shall die first."

A short reference may here be made to the custom of burial without

coffins.

The spirit of economy went far indeed in these older days, for burial,

particularly of the poor, took place either without a coffin at all, or

they were carried to the grave in one of common and general use, from

which they were removed and buried when the grave-side was reached.

A doubtful advance upon this method was the introduction of the

"slip-coffin," which permitted of a bolt being drawn when lowered to the

bottom of the grave. A hinged bottom was in this way relieved, which left

the poor dead body in the closest of contact with mother earth. The

motive, of course, was economy, and its use practically restricted to

paupers. On the authority of Edgar, author of _Old Church Life in

Scotland_ (1886), it is gratifying to note that none of these uncoffined

interments had taken place in the South of Scotland for at least 150

years.

In this connection a story somewhat against the "cloth" may be given:--

"A worthy Galloway minister, feeling that the newly-passed Poor Law Act

with its assessments was burdensome to his flock, seriously proposed to

the Parochial Board of his district that to narrow down the rates a

'slip-coffin' should be made for the poor, out of which the body could

be slipped into its narrow home. The proposal met with scant

consideration, and during the rest of his lifetime the well-meaning man

was known as 'Slip.'"(77)

[Illustration: A GALLOWAY FUNERAL OF OTHER DAYS. Sketch by J. Copland,

Dundrennan.]

Before the days of hearses the coffin was borne to the grave on two long

poles or hand-spokes. Over the simple bare coffin the "mort-cloth" was

spread, for the use of which the "Kirk-Session" made a charge, the money

received being devoted to the relief of the poor of the parish. As

superstitious custom refused the rites of Christian burial to those who

died by their own hand, so was also the use of the "mort-cloth" withheld.

Until comparatively recent days the bodies of suicides were buried at the

meeting of four cross roads, or at all events at some lonely, unfrequented

spot, the remains having not unusually the additional indignity of being

impaled by a stake practised upon them. It is of interest to note that the

name of the "Stake Moss," Sanquhar, may be traced to this callous

practice.

A superstition of the churchyard itself that still lingers and is worthy

of notice, is that the north side is less hallowed than the other portions

of "God's Acre." The origin of this comes from the Scriptural description

of the last judgment (Matthew xxv.), which tells how "He shall set the

sheep on His right hand, but the goats on His left."

A recent local writer has thus embodied the idea and its probable

derivation:--

"This superstition (he says) is said to have originated in the New

Testament story of the Day of Judgment, when the Lord on entering His

house (the entrance of the old churches being at the west end, or on the

south near the west) would separate the sheep from the goats--the former

to His right hand, the south; and the latter to his left, the north. Our

forefathers would not see their dear ones among the goats, 'for evil,'

said they, 'is there.' This credulous imagining is not exemplified in the

kirkyard alone. Many of our old pre-Reformation churches exhibit evidence

of the superstition in the entire absence of windows in their north walls;

and in general it would appear that in mediæval times there was a common

belief in the evil influence of the north, and that thence came all kinds

of ill.

"In Sanquhar Kirkyard it is evident that the superstition prevailed until

comparatively modern times, for there are no headstones on the north side

of the kirk earlier than the beginning of the last century, all the older

monuments being to the south of the kirk, and at its east and west

ends."(78)

To the simple earnest dweller in the country there comes at times the

thought that brings with it a comfort all its own, that after "life's

fitful fever" they will be quietly laid to rest underneath the green turf,

within the shadow of the kirk itself. Of this the origin of Carsphairn

parish, in the uplands of Galloway, gives telling proof; for in the year

1645 complaint was made to the Scottish Parliament that in the parishes of

Dairy and Kells numbers of people had to be buried in the fields, because

the houses in which they lived and died were twelve miles from a

churchyard. The issue of this was, that the district of Carsphairn was

erected into a separate parish, and the indignity of such burials came to

an end.

Before closing a chapter devoted to "death custom" and "funeral ceremony,"

the use of the "dead bell" must certainly be referred to.

In these old days when methods of conveying news and information were

restricted, it was the routine practice when a death occurred for the

"beadle" (sexton) to go, bell in hand, around the district, pausing at

intervals to ring the "passing bell"[40] more particularly in front of the

houses of friends of the deceased, announcing at the same time not only

the death but also the day of burial. The usual form of his intimation

which, with uncovered head, he delivered was:--

"Brethren and sisters,--I hereby let ye to wit that our brother (or

sister), named (name, address, and occupation), departed this life at

----of the clock, according to the pleasure Almighty God, and you are all

invited to attend the funeral on ----."

Particular reference to this custom in the town of Dumfries is given in

the Itinerary of John Ray, naturalist, who visited the town in August,

1662:--

"Here (he says) ... we observed the manner of their burials, which is

this: when anyone dies the sexton or bellman goeth about the streets, with

a small bell in his hand, which he tinkleth all along as he goeth, and now

and then he makes a stance, and proclaims who is dead, and invites the

people to come to the funeral."

On the day of the funeral it was again customary for the "beadle" to ring

the bell, walking in front of the funeral procession ringing it as he

went. This is also noticed by Ray, who notes that "The people and

ministers ... accompany the corpse to the grave ... with the bell before

them." This usage has passed to a form, common enough to this day,

particularly in the country, of tolling the church bell as the funeral

cortège approaches the churchyard.

In the scarce _Book of Galloway_ it is recorded how "the beadle had rung

the 'passing bell[41] on the bellknowe of Penninghame,' and it was heard

again when the mourners approached the graveyard."

The ringing of the "dead bell" had its origin in the superstitious idea

that by this means evil spirits were held at bay.

[Illustration]

_CHAPTER VII._

GHOST LORE AND HAUNTED HOUSES.

"There are many ghost stories which we do not feel at liberty to

challenge."--_Sir Walter Scott._

Passing now to gather up the details of superstitious vestige as they

present themselves in the form of ghost traditions and memories of

ghost-haunted houses, we find in the district of Dumfries and Galloway

much of interest to set forth.

Traversing from Western Galloway to Eastern Dumfriesshire, gleaning as we

go, the legend connected with Dunskey Castle, which yet in ruined solitude

stands sentinel over the rock-bound shore and restless sea at Portpatrick,

first calls for mention.

The story goes back to the occupation of the Castle in the fourteenth

century by Walter de Curry, a turbulent sea rover, who, becoming much

incensed at the outspoken and fearless utterances of an Irish piper whom

he had taken prisoner and compelled to his service as minstrel and

jester, condemned the unfortunate man to a lingering death from starvation

in the Castle dungeons.

Tradition asserts, however, that the piper found his way into a secret

subterranean passage leading from the Castle to a cave on the sea-shore,

from which, however, he was unable to find egress, and where he perished

miserably.

Along this passage the troubled ghost of the piper was long reputed to

march, backwards and forwards, playing the weirdest of pipe music, and so

indicating, as was firmly believed, to the awe-stricken listeners above,

the line of direction of the secret underground passage.[42]

Perhaps the best-known Galloway ghost story is that of the Ghost of

Galdenoch Tower, in the parish of Leswalt. The Tower was at one time the

property of the Agnews of Galdenoch, but falling on evil days their name

disappeared from the roll of proprietors, when it was used as a

farm-house. For this, however, it was given up, for no other reason than

that it was firmly believed to be haunted. The tradition as told by Sir

Andrew Agnew is as follows:--

"A scion of the house had fought in one of the battles for the Covenant,

and after a defeat had craved food and shelter at a house near the scene

of the disaster. He was admitted by the owner, a rough blustering fellow

of Royalist leanings, who allowed him to share in the family supper; and

after a long crack over the incidents of the day, let him make up a bed by

the ingle-side fire. The young soldier rose early, and was in the act of

leaving when his host barred his access to the door, grumbling that he

doubted whether he had been on the right side the day before. Convinced

that he meant to detain him, the youth produced his pistol and shot his

entertainer dead; then rushing to the stables, saddled up, and made his

way to the west.

Arrived safely at the Galdenoch, the fatted calf was killed, and having

fought all his battles over again round the family board, he went to bed.

But hardly had the lights been extinguished in the tower than strange

sounds announced a new arrival, which proved to be the ghost of the slain

malignant, who not only disturbed the repose of his slayer, but made life

unendurable to all within.

Nightly his pranks continued, and even after a change of owners the

annoyance was continued to the new tenant and his family. One cold

winter's night they sat round the kitchen fire playing a well-known game.

A burning stick passed merrily from hand to hand:

'About wi' that! about wi' that!

Keep alive the priest-cat!'

The spark was extinguished, and the forfeit was about to be declared, when

one of the party, looking at the hearth, which was now one brilliant mass

of transparent red, observed, 'It wadna be hannie to steal a coal the

noo;' but hardly were the words out of his mouth when a glowing peat

disappeared as if by magic, leaving as clear a vacuum in the fire as when

a brick is displaced from a solid archway. 'That beats a',' was re-echoed

through the wondering group; and but a few moments elapsed before there

was a cry of 'Fire' and the farm-steading was in flames. In the thatch of

the barn that identical 'cube of fire' was inserted, and no one doubted

that it had been done by the ghost. The range of buildings was preserved

with difficulty by the united exertions of the party.

The tenant's mother sat one morning at her spinning-wheel; an invisible

power bore her along, and plunged her in the Mill-Isle burn, a voice

mumbling the while, 'I'll dip thee, I'll draw thee,' till the old dame

became unconscious. Great was the surprise of the family at dinner-time

when grandmamma was missed. Every corner of the buildings was searched.

The goodman and his wife became alarmed, while the lads and lassies ran

madly about interrogating one another with 'Where's granny?' At last a

well-known voice was heard--'I've washed granny in the burn, and laid her

on the dyke to dry!' Away the whole party ran; and sure enough the poor

old woman lay naked on the dyke, half dead with cold and fright.

Several of the neighbouring clergymen tried to lay this ghost, but all in

vain. If they sang, the ghost drowned the united efforts of the company.

Eventually, however, it was laid by the Rev. Mr Marshall of Kirkcolm,

already referred to as a zealous prosecutor of witches, by the almost

unclerical method of roaring and shouting it down."(79)

On the confines of Stoneykirk parish, in the Moor of the Genoch, there is

a plantation locally known as "Lodnagappal Plantin',"[43] concerning which

report tells of an apparition in the form of a headless woman who almost

invariably carried a light for the dire purpose of luring the unwary to

death in the treacherous moss-holes so numerous in the neighbourhood.

Fuller details are available of yet another "white woman" and her

unwelcome methods. Early last century, when the mail packet crossed from

Portpatrick to Ireland, a carrier, who lived at High Ardwell, regularly

journeyed backwards and forwards to Portpatrick to bring supplies for

the district. On his way home he was more than once alarmed and troubled

by a woman in white, who stopped his horse and even caused his cart to

break down. Once, indeed, the horse was so affected that it became quite

incapable of moving the load, compelling the carrier in great distress to

unyoke, and, mounting the horse, to make for home. His fears were not much

lessened by finding that the white lady was seated behind him.

The appearances of the ghost became more frequent as time went on, and

eventually the white woman manifested a desire to embrace the carrier,

indicating that if he yielded even only to listen once to her whispered

devotion he might be freed altogether from future interference. The

carrier, after a good deal of doubt and hesitation, at last yielded, but,

wishing to have some substantial barrier between himself and his ghostly

lover, stipulated that she should come to the little back-window of his

cottage on a particular night. The appointed time came, but the carrier,

still very doubtful, had planned accordingly. Cautiously and partially was

the window opened. The white figure was there. Bending down to what

appeared to be the man's face--but what was really the skull of a horse

held towards her--there was a swift savage thrust of the ghostly face

and half of the protruding horse's skull was severed. Thwarted in this

unexpected way, the evil spirit slunk away, muttering "Hard, hard, are the

banes and gristle of your face!" At least that is what the tradition

tells.

Another tale concerns Auchabrick House, in Kirkmaiden, not far from Port

Logan. The usually accepted story is pretty much as follows: The troth of

a young lady of the house was plighted to a young gentleman whose fortune

was not quite equal to his rank in life. It was the days of privateering,

and to amass some means the young fellow joined an enterprise of this

kind, and was fortunate enough to find himself aboard a superior and

successful vessel.

Whilst abroad he sent home to the lady of his heart a silk dress and a

considerable sum of money. These, however, fell into the hands of an

unscrupulous brother, who appropriated them to his own use. Perplexed at

not receiving news from home and acknowledgment, the lover wrote again and

again, but the letters were always intercepted by the brother.

Disaster came, and the wanderer never reached home to learn the true state

of matters, but his ghost came to haunt the place. Fasten the doors as

securely as they might, it always obtained an entry, and the scratch of a

ghostly pen was heard writing and rewriting the stolen letters. Different

plans were tried to relieve this eerie state of affairs. On one occasion a

Bible was placed behind the door through which the ghost seemed to pass,

but this was followed by terrifying and distracting noises, while the

house itself was shaken as if by storm and gale.

It was also believed that the semblance of the ship on which the wanderer

pursued his calling as a privateer was at times seen to sail along a field

above the house.

A variation of the main story is that it was a brother of one of the

former ladies of Auchabrick whose shade haunted the place. He had fallen

from his horse and been fatally injured, his ghost taking the form of a

young man, booted and spurred, riding a grey horse.

At Cardrain, in the same locality, there is another tradition of an

apparition on horseback which time and again rode up to the house, made

fast the horse to a rope hanging from the thatch, then wandered all

through the place.

In the neighbourhood of Tirally the shade of a departed medical man was

believed to frequent and wander along the sea-shore. There is an authentic

account of the house he occupied being of necessity given up by the tenant

who succeeded him after his death, on account of the strange persistent

and disturbing noises heard in it.

Passing from the Rhinns of Galloway to the Machars, through the district

of Glenluce, the surprising story of the Devil of Glenluce should

naturally find a place. It will, however, be included in the Appendix, in

all its quaintness, as it occurs in _Satan's Invisible World_, published

in 1685.

In the history of the town of Wigtown no character stands out in stronger

relief than Provost Coltran, proprietor of Drummorall. In 1683, along with

David Graham, brother of Claverhouse, and Sir Godfrey M'Culloch, he was

appointed to administer the test to the people of Galloway, and was Chief

Magistrate at the drowning of the Martyrs on Wigtown Sands (May 11th,

1685). His private character does not seem to have been beyond reproach,

and it was commonly said that in his life time he had sold himself to the

Devil.

The story still lingers that at his death the windows of his house looked

as if they were in a blaze of fire, clearly indicating to the popular mind

that the Devil was getting his own, and for long afterwards his ghost, a

terrifying figure snorting fire from his nostrils, walked the earth. Even

the house where he lived and died was for many years avoided after

night-fall.

Not far from the village of Bladnoch, on the farm of Kirkwaugh, is a spot

known as the Packman's Grave, round which a grim story lingers:--

"Tradition has it that an enterprising packman lived in or near Wigtown

long ago. He had a consignment of cloth on board a vessel which put into a

local port. The ship was plague-stricken, and the people in the district,

fearing that the infection might spread by means of the packman and his

cloth, seized both the merchant and his wares, and taking them to

Kirkwaugh dug a deep grave, in which they were deposited--the packman

alive. Even until lately people imagined they saw lights and heard knocks

at the spot, which gets the name of the Packman's Grave to this day."(80)

Near Sorbie is the farm of Claunch, concerning which there is an old-world

memory of a spectral carriage and pair of horses. The origin of the

tradition is unknown, but the following is an authentic account of its

appearance furnished by a correspondent:--

"I can, however, recall the strange experience of one who avowed that it

had come within his ken. He was a blacksmith by trade, and had been doing

some work at the farm. It was a fine moonlight evening when he gathered

his tools together and started on his walk to Whithorn, where he lived. It

chanced that the farmer by whom he had been employed during the day

accompanied him as far as the entrance to the farmyard. As they were

crossing the courtyard, what certainly seemed a spectral carriage and pair

of horses galloped past them, and in another moment disappeared as if it

never had been.

'What in the name of wonder was that?' ejaculated the smith; to which the

farmer replied--

'It's mair than I can tell--but it's no' the first glint o't I hae gotten,

although I haena seen't aften. But dinna ye come owre what ye hae

seen--nae guid'll come o' talkin' aboot it.'"(81)

The old parish manse of Whithorn, which adjoined the churchyard near to

its main entrance, and which was demolished a good many years ago, had

rather an uncanny reputation, but nothing very definite can be gleaned to

explain this. It certainly was, however, avoided after darkness fell. A

little short lane off the public road, between the north end of Whithorn

and the Bishopton Crofts, is associated with an appearance denoting foul

play towards a very young child. But the most important ghostly

reminiscence that can be gathered in this locality refers to the ghost at

Craigdhu, in the parish of Glasserton, on the shore-road from Whithorn to

Port-William. The following account was communicated by a native of the

district:--

"Many rumours used to be afloat in my younger days of people being

terrified by some unearthly shape or other which was believed to show

itself at Craigdhu. Such stories were, however, rather conflicting, some

declaring that it was a spectre of human form and proportions, while

others held that it was more like a huge quadruped of an unknown species;

but I confine my notes to personal testimonies of three individuals whom I

knew. The first of these was a hard-working farm servant, who insisted

that he had seen the something--whatever it was--not once or twice, but

repeatedly. The second testifier was a wood-sawyer, who had occasion to

spend a night in the house belonging to the farm. His first consciousness

of the ghost's presence was when he was ascending the stair to the

sleeping apartment, which a companion and himself were to occupy. This was

manifested by the distinct sound of a lady's silk dress passing him and

his bed-fellow on their way to the garret which was to be their dormitory.

But that, though eerie enough, was nothing to what was to follow. As soon

as they had extinguished their candle and crept into bed _something_ leapt

on the bed and dealt the unfortunate couple some well directed blows with

what seemed like a heavy blunt instrument. The third witness was an

ex-magistrate of Whithorn, who told that he was almost run to earth by

the goblin. He was just able to evade it by reaching the farm-house door

as he was actually being overtaken. Throwing himself against the door, he

was admitted by the farmer himself without a moment's delay. The latter at

once conjectured the cause of his breathlessness and terror--'Aye! come

in, my frien', come in. I ken gey weel what has happened; but ye're safe

here, an' as welcome as I can mak' ye, to bide till daylicht.'"(82)

The roofless ruin of the little pre-Reformation Church of Kirkmaiden (in

Fernes) in Glasserton parish, so beautifully situated on the very verge of

Luce Bay, has among other associations a tradition of supernatural

intervention and tragedy.

Many tides have ebbed and flowed since the night of a merry gathering in

the old house of Moure, the original home of the Maxwells of Monreith. As

the evening wore on, some harmless rallying and boasting took place

concerning bravery and indifference towards darkness and things uncanny.

Among the guests was a young man in the hey-day of youth and recklessness,

who rashly wagered that he would that very night, and without delay, ride

to the Maiden Kirk and bring away the church bible as a proof that he had

been there. Amidst much careless talk and banter he galloped off. The

night wore on, but the young man did not return. As it was but a short

ride from Moure to the Kirk the greatest anxiety prevailed. Next day, in a

bleak spot, his dead body was found, as also his horse lying stiff beside

him. Of robbery and violence there was no evidence, but the entrails of

both man and beast had been carefully drawn from their bodies, and were

found twisted and entwined round some old thorn bushes close beside them.

It was afterwards found that he had reached the church and was on his way

back.

Some ten miles northward, along this eastern shore of Luce Bay, are the

ruined Barracks of Auchenmalg, built in the days of the free-trade as a

means of suppressing the traffic. A whisper of the old building being

haunted exists, but further than that the idea is associated with some

deed of violence in the smuggling days nothing very definite can be

gleaned.

Passing from Wigtownshire, by way of Kirkcowan, towards

Kirkcudbrightshire, it may be noted that Dr Trotter has preserved a ghost

story concerning Craighlaw House, originally a fifteenth century square

keep, now the oldest part of a mansion-house of three distinct periods.

The story conveys that the ghost appeared on one occasion by the side of

the large arched kitchen fire-place, during the absence of the cook at

the well. Much alarmed at the sight on her return she screamed and

collapsed. Her master, sceptical of anything supernatural, fervently

expressed the wish that he himself might meet the cause of the alarm,

which he actually did, and shot at it with no effect, much to his own

alarm. Dr Trotter adds that "since the ghost was laid everything has been

quiet."(83)

In Kirkcudbrightshire, still passing eastwards, the legends and eerie

associations that cluster around Machermore Castle first meet us, and call

for narration.

The following details are taken from an article entitled "The White Lady

of Machermore," contributed to the _Galloway Gazette_ some years ago by

James G. Kinna, author of the _History of the Parish of Minnigaff_:--

"Pleasantly situated on the east bank of the Cree, about a mile from the

town, Machermore Castle is a prominent feature in the landscape as the

traveller approaches Newton-Stewart by rail from the south. For wellnigh

three hundred years the grey old Castle of Machermore bravely weathered

the storms, and it would have continued to do so unscathed had not modern

times necessitated structural changes. The Castle now presents a happy

instance of the blending of the old and new styles of architecture--an

adaptation of the past to present requirements.

It is a curious circumstance that although certain spots near Machermore

Castle have always been associated with the name of the White Lady no one

has ever actually seen the mysterious being. And yet there are few of the

older residenters in the parish of Minnigaff who have not heard their

grandfathers speak of her as a reality.

Machermore Castle is believed to have been built about the latter end of

the sixteenth century. Tradition says that it was at first intended to

build the Castle on the higher ground, a little to the north-east of the

present site, but that during the night the foundation stones were always

removed, so that what was built during the day was carried off by unseen

hands and deposited in another place. As it was no use to strive against

the supernatural, the Castle was eventually built where the materials were

always found in the morning.

In the Castle itself was a room reputed to be haunted. In this instance

the particular apartment was in the north-west angle, and was always known

as Duncan's room. Projecting from the top corner of the outer wall in the

same part of the Castle was the finely-carved figurehead of a man. A close

inspection revealed the fact that the neck was encircled by an

exquisitely-chiselled lace ruffle of the Tudor period. This piece of

sculpture was always known as Duncan's head. On the floor of Duncan's room

there was the mark of a bloody hand, distinctly showing the impress of the

fingers, thumb, and palm. It was said that removing that part of the

flooring had been tried so as to eradicate all trace of the bygone

tragedy, but the mark of the bloody hand appeared in the new wood as fresh

as before. From the history of Machermore at least this legend is

ineffaceable, and the annals of the parish of Minnigaff are incomplete

which do not contain a reference to this remarkable phenomenon.

It is a good many years since the incident I am about to relate took

place, but the circumstances are as fresh in my memory as if it had

happened but yesternight; nor am I ever likely to forget my first and only

visit from the White Lady. On that occasion I happened to be the sole

occupant of Duncan's room, but as usage had worn off all prejudice against

the occupation of that particular bedroom amongst the members of the

household, little or no importance was attached to the general belief that

the room was haunted.

It was a midsummer night, and I had been asleep, but had awakened, and

lay wondering what time it was, just as a clock on one of the landings

struck twelve. As the last stroke died away I distinctly heard a footstep

coming upstairs. All being perfectly quiet in the Castle at that hour, I

could hear the slightest sound. Nearer and nearer to the door of my room

came the midnight visitant, until it seemed to enter; but although the

room was flooded with moonlight I saw no one come in, yet I was perfectly

conscious that some mysterious presence was near me. I was not in the

least frightened at the time. Although wide awake I could see nothing. A

peculiar sound resembling the opening and shutting of a stiff drawer now

came from the corner of the room where was the impress of the bloody hand.

I then sat up in bed and called out, "Who's there? what do you want?" but

got no answer. After this I must confess to feeling uncomfortable, a state

which changed to something like positive fear as a rustling sound

resembling that made by a silk dress passed out of the room. All this time

the door remained closed. Nothing, therefore, possessing a material body

could either have entered or left the room without its entrance or exit

being noticed, but although I looked in the direction from which the

moving sound proceeded nothing could be seen. It was with a sense of

relief that I listened with bated breath and palpitating heart to the

retreating footsteps as they slowly descended the stairs and gradually

died away in the distance, and then all was silent again, ... and here the

mystery rests."

There is a tradition that somewhere about Machermore Castle there is

buried under a flat stone a kettle full of gold:

"Between the Castle and the River Cree

Lies enough o' gold to set a' Scotland free."

The spell of the White Lady for good or evil is exercised no longer in the

ancestral home of the Dunbars of Machermore.

Between Kirkdale House and Cassencarry, on the beautiful sea-girt road

leading from Creetown to Gatehouse, there stood many years ago a little

cottage in a sequestered situation among the woods, where a young girl was

murdered by her sweetheart under the saddest of circumstances.

In and around the cottage immediately afterwards unaccountable noises were

heard, and the ghost of the unfortunate girl seen, which curiously enough,

as the tradition tells, at once ceased when the young man was brought to

justice.

There is also a further tradition about a gypsy killing a woman near

Kirkdale Bridge. At twelve o'clock at night, it is said, the ghost of a

woman with half of her head cut off, and all clad in white, appears at

Kirkdale Bridge, and slowly wends its way along the road and disappears by

the wooded pathway leading to Kirkdale Bank.(84) This apparition is firmly

believed in by folks in that locality.

The district of Dalry has furnished us with tales of witch and fairy lore.

Of ghost tradition there are also authentic details, of which the most

important concerns the old mansion-house of Glenlee. The following details

are extracts from a paper on the subject contributed to the _Gallovidian_

(Winter, 1900):--

"In the north of Kirkcudbrightshire, in the beautiful district of the

Glenkens, on the banks of the Ken, nearly opposite to the village of Dalry

but on the other side of the river, stands the fine mansion-house of

Glenlee Park, at one time the residence of Lord Glenlee, one of the Judges

of the Court of Session. Silent and solitary, and untenanted for years now

except by a caretaker, this eligible residence has the reputation of being

haunted by a lady who walks about dressed in grey silk.

A lady, who is still alive, tells how the grey lady appeared to her one

evening as she was sitting in front of her dressing-glass waiting on her

maid to come and do up her hair. While looking into the mirror she became

aware of someone or something behind her, and then saw a lady enter by the

door of her room, pass across the floor, and disappear through a door

which communicated with a dressing-room. As the house was full of company

at the time she wondered whether some of the strangers had mistaken the

way to her room; but she waited in vain for her return, and just as she

was thinking of going to explore the mystery it occurred to her that there

had been no sound of doors opening or of footfalls on the floor, nor was

there any sound in the direction in which the lady had disappeared, and

finally it struck her that the lady was not dressed like anyone in the

house.

On another occasion the same lady was sitting up with her husband, who was

seriously ill, and during the night a kind of rap was heard on the door,

or about the door, which roused her to go and see what it was. Upon

opening the door a face stared at her, but spoke not, and passed silently

along the dimly-lighted corridor out of sight.

A guest at Glenlee, before going off to some entertainment one evening ran

up to his bedroom for something or other, and to his surprise there was a

lady standing at his dressing-table putting some finishing touches to her

toilette. He at once withdrew, thinking that some of the ladies in the

hurry of the moment had gone into the wrong bedroom. When he came down

again they were all upon the point of departure, and called to him to come

along--but before getting into the carriage he said,

'You have forgotten one of the ladies.'

'Oh, no!' they said, 'everyone is here, and but for your lingering we

should have been off.'

One evening at dark the butler was hastening down the avenue on some

errand to the lodge-keeper's, when suddenly a lady hurried past him, and

he heard nothing but a faint rustle as of her dress, or the faint

flickering of the remaining autumn leaves in the breeze overhead. As it

was at a time when all the ladies were supposed to be indoors curiosity

piqued him to follow her and watch her movements. She hurried on without

once looking round, and finally disappeared through a disused cellar door

which he knew to be locked and rusted from want of use. Not till then did

it strike the butler that there was anything uncanny about the lady that

had hurried past him in the gloom of the evening.

No satisfactory explanation of these unpleasant experiences has ever been

established.

Mr Blacklock, in his notes on _Twenty Years' Holidaying in the Glenkens_,

makes mention of the Glenlee ghost, and adds that Lady Ashburton was

said to have poisoned her husband, who was afflicted with _morbus

pediculus_. 'Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap'--and there

is a further tradition that Lady Ashburton's butler poisoned her in turn,

in order to possess himself of some valuables which he coveted.

[Illustration: THE HEADLESS PIPER OF PATIESTHORN. Sketch by J. Copland,

Dundrennan.]

The disturbances are chiefly connected with the old part of the house, the

bedroom and dressing-room previously mentioned, which seem to be the chief

haunts of this yet unlaid ghost."

In the village of Dalry itself there stood a row of houses called

Bogle-Hole, on the site now occupied by the school. In one of these houses

a man was said to have poisoned his wife, and the ghost of the murdered

woman has, according to credible authority, appeared even within recent

years.

The following singular story is connected with the lonely district of the

Moor of Corsock:

"Many years ago a drover, while making his way north and crossing that

wild and thinly populated district which lies between the head of the

parish of Parton and the Moor of Corsock had the following uncanny

experience: He had left the Parton district late in the afternoon with the

intention of reaching a farm-house some miles north of the village of

Corsock. By the time he reached the path over Corsock Hill, however, it

had become dark, and occasional flashes of lightning foretold that a storm

was at hand. With loud peals of thunder, vivid flashes of lightning, and a

downpour of rain the storm at last broke. The only shelter near at hand

was some thorn bushes by the roadside, under which the drover crept and

stayed for fully an hour, while the storm raged and the darkness

increased. When the storm had somewhat abated the drover set out once

more, hurrying as fast as the darkness would allow him. He had reached a

very desolate part of the moor when his collie gave a low whine and crept

close to his master's heels. The drover stood up for a moment to try and

find a reason for the dog's behaviour, when down in the glen between the

hills he heard what at first appeared the sound of bagpipes, which

increased quickly to a shrill piercing wailing that struck terror to his

heart, the collie creeping closer and closer to his heel whining in a way

that showed he was as much frightened as his master.

Standing irresolute, a blaze of blue light flashed right in front of him,

in the centre of which appeared the figure of a piper, his pipes standing

like horns against the background of blue light. The figure moved

backwards and forwards playing the wildest of music all the time. It next

seemed to come nearer and nearer, and the drover, now transfixed to earth

with terror, saw that the piper was headless, and his body so thin that

surrounding hills and country could be seen right throught it. A blinding

flash of fire, followed by an ear-splitting clap of thunder, brought

matters to a close for the time being, and the drover fell prostrate among

the heather. When he recovered his senses the strange light had gone, and

with it the headless piper. The storm had cleared off, and in due time he

reached the farm, where he was put up for the night. When he told his

story no one spoke for a moment or two, then the farmer's aged father

broke silence: 'Aye, aye, lad, ye hae seen the ghost o' the piper wha was

murdered on his wey frae Patiesthorn.[44] I hae had the same fearsome

experience myself, tho' its mair than saxty years syne.'"(85)

In the Dundrennan district of Kirkcudbright a persisted belief lingers

concerning a headless lady haunting the Buckland Glen. The following

narrative which has been handed down lends an increased interest to the

tradition:--

Long ago a Monkland farmer, accompanied by one of his farm-lads, was on

his return from Kirkcudbright at a very late hour. The farmer was riding a

small Highland pony, the boy being on foot. It was about midnight when

they got to that part of Buckland Glen where a small bridge crosses the

Buckland Burn. They had just crossed the bridge when the pony suddenly

stood up and swerved, almost throwing the farmer out of the saddle.

"What's wrang wi' ye the nicht, Maggie--what's tae fricht ye, my lass?"

"Eh, Maister, did ye see that?" whispered the lad. "See--yonner it's

again!"

The old man looked, and muttering to himself whispered, "Aye, it's there,

laddie! It's a' true what hes been mony a time telt! That's the ghost o'

the headless leddy wha was murdered in the glen in the aul' wicked times.

We'll no gang by, but gang doon the lane and slip hame by Gilroanie."

Turning the quivering pony they wended their way along the woods which

thickly fringe the Buckland Burn, as it leads to the shore at the

Manxman's Lake, and reached home without further difficulty than keeping

in hand the frightened pony. The curious fact was a week later discovered

that two disreputable characters had lain in wait, for the purpose of

robbery or perhaps worse, at a lonely turn on the Bombie road about a

quarter of a mile from Buckland Brig. They had learned that the farmer had

been to Kirkcudbright to draw a sum of money, and, had the sudden

appearance of the Buckland ghost not turned their path, another tragedy

might have been that night enacted in the Buckland Glen.

[Illustration: THE GHOST OF BUCKLAND GLEN. Sketch by J. Copland,

Dundrennan.]

Concerning the parish of Rerwick the account of "A true relation of an

apparition, expressions, and actings of a spirit which infested the house

of Andrew Mackie, in Ringcroft of Stocking, in the parish of Rerwick, in

the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright in Scotland, 1695, by Mr Alexander Telfair,

Minister of that parish, and attested by many other persons who were also

eye and ear witnesses," will be found in its original form in the

Appendix.

One of the most interesting weird stories connected with Galloway, centres

round a mansion-house in the neighbourhood of Castle-Douglas.

A lady renting it for a few years tells how she was twice or thrice

disturbed in the night by hearing a horse trotting round to the front

door, and on getting up to look out of the window always found there was

nothing to be seen, and nothing to be done but to return shivering to

bed. Several years after, returning to the neighbourhood, she met the

owner of the house, who asked her to go and see the improvements he had

recently effected. On being shown over the house she was told that the

room she had slept in had had the partition taken down between it and the

dressing-room next it to make a large room, and strangely enough, when

taking down the wall, a horse's skull was discovered built into the wall.

The only connecting link to the above curious circumstance is that a

former proprietor paid a hurried visit to the town of Dumfries at the time

of the terrible epidemic of cholera (1832), the journey being naturally

accomplished in these days on horseback. Unfortunately, he contracted the

disease and died shortly after his return.

Until some years ago a huge boulder lay at the roadside on the way from

Dalbeattie to Colvend, not far from the cottage known as the "Wood

Forester's." The story was, that this was the scene of foul play long ago,

the victim being a woman, whose ghost afterwards haunted the neighbourhood

in the black hours of the night.

Bearing upon this, an exceedingly graphic account has been furnished the

writer of such an apparition having been seen by the captain of a local

coasting vessel[45] late one night as he was walking from Kippford to

Dalbeattie. It made its appearance near Aikieslak, which is the next house

to the "Wood Forester's," and not very far away. The figure walked in

front, stopped when he stopped, and finally disappeared, to his intense

relief, in the wood to the left.

The parish of Kirkbean is particularly rich in ghostly record, no fewer

than six haunted, or once haunted localities having been noted.(86)

Traversing the parish from Southwick towards Newabbey, the first eerie

place of note is a field above Torrorie known as the "Murder Fall." The

ghost in this instance was that of a man who came to an untimely end by

hanging.

Between Mainsriddel and Prestonmill there is a sequestered part of the

road known as "Derry's How," once reputed to be haunted by an evil spirit

in the form of a black four-footed beast. The third uncanny place was a

farm-house in this same immediate neighbourhood. The ghostly manifestation

was here that of sound--well-defined sounds of footsteps passing along a

passage to the foot of a staircase, pausing, then seeming to return along

the passage again. The sound persisted for many years, and was recognised

and described by different individuals always as footsteps, which of

themselves were so natural as to give rise to no alarm.

Between Prestonmill and Kirkbean--midway between the two villages--there

is a small plantation, with, on the other side of the road, a larger wood.

The road itself at this particular part forms a hollow. This natural

arrangement of wood and road, known locally as the "Howlet's Close," was

the reputed domain of a "lady in white," but so little can be gleaned

concerning her appearance that even the origin of the tradition seems to

be quite forgotten.

The "Three Cross Roads" near Arbigland is the next spot of ghost-lore

association, round which there lingers a rather romantic tale. A young

lady, a member of the well-known family of Craik (of Arbigland) had fixed

her affections upon a young groom in her father's employment, a lad of

good physique and manners, but, of course, apart in social status. The

course of true love, however, did not run true, the romantic attachment

having a most tragic ending. One day a single report of fire-arms was

heard, and soon afterwards the lifeless body of the young man, whose name

was Dunn, was discovered. The law took the view of suicide having been

committed, but it was generally believed in the district that a brother of

the young lady, incensed at her devotion to one he thought so far beneath

her, had himself taken the young man's life. This deed of violence took

place at the "Three Cross Roads," and this was the place where the

victim's ghost was afterwards reported to have been seen.

Another part of the road on the confines of the parish, and near to where

it enters that of Newabbey, is associated with the midnight wanderings of

yet another "lady in white," but concerning this "poor ghost" also,

tradition withholds her story.

There comes down through the long flight of centuries, a curious old story

of supernatural sequence to the tragic death of John Comyn at the high

altar of the Minorite Friary in Dumfries (February 10th, 1306), when the

impetuous dagger-thrust of the Bruce, followed by the death dealing

strokes of Kirkpatrick and Lindsay, completed the all-significant tale of

murder and sacrilege.

The terrors of the day had passed, and night had fallen. With simple and

earnest pomp the death-watch over the slain was being held by the troubled

and anxious Friars. Wearily the hours dragged on. It was the dead of

night, and many of them slumbered--all indeed, save one aged Friar, who,

as the chronicler[46] tells, "with terror and astonishment heard a ghostly

voice mournfully call out, 'How long, O Lord, shall vengeance be

deferred?' and in reply an answering wail, 'Endure with patience until the

anniversary of this day shall return for the fifty-second time,'" rising

to the chancel roof with terrible clearness. The aged monk bowed his head,

praying earnestly that evil might be averted, but it was otherwise to fall

out.

Fifty-two years have passed away, and the hand of hospitality is being

extended in the fortress of Caerlaverock Castle. In the great hall the

flickering firelight fitfully lights up the faces of two men who have been

served with a parting cup of wine, for the hour draws late. The host is

Roger Kirkpatrick, the guest James Lindsay, and they are the sons of

Kirkpatrick and Lindsay, whose daggers despatched the Red Comyn. Goodwill

and friendship evidently prevail as they rise to part for the night, but

the rift is in the lute, and an ugly savage look comes to the face of

Lindsay as he is left alone in his room in the west tower.

An hour later a stealthy figure creeps up the eastern turret stair. There

is a single well-directed thrust, and deep sleep becomes the deeper sleep

of death, so sure has been the stroke that sends Roger Kirkpatrick, son of

"Mak' Siccar," to his doom.

A bridled and a saddled steed stands beyond the confines of the castle

walls, and Lindsay, leaping to his seat, terror at his heart, rides into

the darkness of the night. Daybreak comes, the alarm is given, and almost

red-handed the murderer is taken, not three miles from the castle gates,

from which he had deemed himself many leagues away.

Hurried to Dumfries, doom is pronounced, and the common place of execution

claims him for its own. The ghostly call of the night, "How long?" echoing

through the monastery walls, is fulfilled.

With the history of the South-western district of Scotland the life story

of Sir Robert Grierson of Lag, or "Aul' Lag," as he is to this day called,

is intimately associated. In a previous chapter we have dealt with the

superstitious happenings at his death and funeral. Mention must now be

made of a legend which concerns the passing of his soul, and which is not

yet forgotten in Dumfries and Galloway.

The year of grace, 1733, was wearing fast towards Yule, when one stormy

night a small vessel found herself overtaken, at the mouth of the Solway,

by a gale of wind that was almost too much for her. Close-hauled and

fighting for every foot of sea-way she was slowly forcing her way

up-channel against the angry north-west blast when a strange adventure

befel her. In a lull following a savage squall the moon broke through the

black flying cloud, lighting up the storm-tossed sea and revealing to

those aboard another struggling sail far astern. Curiously the seamen

gazed, but searching glance gave place to wonder, and wonder to fear, when

they saw what had at first seemed a craft like themselves, come rushing

onwards in the very teeth of the wind, and with as much ease as if running

"free" before it. The moon dipped, and again darkness descended on the

face of the waters, but not for long. Once again the moonlight pierced the

curtain of flying cloud. Then was seen what surely was the strangest craft

that ever sailed the tossing Solway sea--a great State-coach, drawn by six

jet-black horses, with out-riders, coachmen, and a great retinue of

torch-bearers, footmen, and followers, furiously driving onwards over the

foam-crested waves. As the phantom carriage plunged nearer, the skipper,

regaining some little of his courage, ran forwards, hailing in sailor

fashion--"Where bound? and where from?"--and the answer came back, clear

and distinct across the raging waters--"To tryst with Lag! Dumfries!

from--Hell!"

[Illustration: "TO TRYST WITH LAG." Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.]

A similar legend exists in connection with the death of William, Duke of

Queensberry, appointed High Commissioner to James VII., 1685, and whose

attitude towards the Covenanters is still remembered against him.

"Concerning the death of the Duke of Drumlanrig, _alias_ Queensberry, we

have the following relation: That a young man perfectly well acquainted

with the Duke (probably one of those he had formerly banished), being now

a sailor and in foreign countries, while the ship was upon the coast of

Naples and Sicily, near one of the burning mountains, one day they espied

a coach and six, all in black, going towards the mount with great

velocity; when it came past them they were so near that they could

perceive the dimensions and features of one that sat in it.

The young man said to the rest--'If I could believe my own eyes, or if I

ever saw one like another, I would say that it is the Duke.'

In an instant they heard an audible voice echo from the mount--'Open to

the Duke of Drumlanrig!' upon which the coach, now near the mount,

vanished.

The young man took pen and paper, and upon his return found it exactly

answer the day and hour the Duke died."(87)

Of Drumlanrig Castle itself, the writer of _Drumlanrig and the Douglases_

notes, that "like all old baronial residences, this castle was believed to

be haunted by the ghosts of the dead. The most alarming legend was

connected with what was known as the 'Bloody Passage,' where a foul murder

had been committed, and the very spot was marked out by the stains of

blood, which no housemaid's scrubbing could obliterate. It is the passage

on the south side of the castle running above the drawing-room, from which

a number of bed-chambers enter. Here, at midnight, the perturbed spirit of

a lady, in her night clothes, parades, bewailing her sad fate, but by whom

she had suffered tradition tells not. There is also a haunted room on the

east side of the castle, on the fourth storey from the ground, where in

former times fearful noises used to be heard."

Passing from Thornhill to Moniaive by way of Penpont and Tynron a

conspicuous land-mark is the truncated peak of Tynron Doon, the abrupt

ending of the hill range dividing the valley of the Scaur from that of the

Shinnel. Round Tynron Doon there linger memories of a spectre in the form

of a headless horseman restlessly riding a black horse. The local

tradition is, that the ghost was that of a young gentleman of the family

of M'Milligan of Dalgarnock, who had gone to offer his addresses to the

daughter of the Laird of Tynron Castle. His presence was objected to,

however, by one of the young lady's brothers. Hot words followed, and in

high wrath the suitor rode off; but mistaking his way he galloped over the

steepest part of the hill and broke his neck, and so, with curses and

words of evil on his very lips, his spirit was not allowed to pass

untroubled to the realms beyond.

In the adjoining parish of Glencairn the following ghost vestiges have

been gleaned:--"At Auchenstroan and Marwhirn a white woman is seen; at

Pentoot and Gaps Mill 'pens' a crying child (supposed to have been

murdered) is heard. The Nut Wood at Maxwellton was long supposed to

harbour an emissary of the Evil One, and woe betide the traveller who

failed to gain the running waters of Cairn or Shinnel. Jarbruck and

Kirkland bridges were also of evil repute."(88)

In the district of Sanquhar there are numerous stories of supernatural

appearance and ghostly visit.

Connected with Sanquhar Castle, or Crichton Peel as it is otherwise

termed, now a ruined remnant, there are two distinctive ghost legends.

The first is concerned with the fate--in the far-off old unhappy days--of

a servitor of Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick of Closeburn, who "suffered"

innocently at the hands of the sixth Lord Crichton. In this instance the

ghost was not seen, but manifested its presence by strange chain-clanking

noises within the castle walls.

The other is yet another "Lady in White," whose rare appearance foretold

grief or misfortune to the Crichton family. The legend runs that it was

the ghost of a young maiden who had been wronged and murdered by one of

the Lords of Sanquhar.

Littlemark, a small farm on the Eliock estate, three miles from Sanquhar,

was the scene, some two hundred years ago, of the murder of a pedlar, who

came into the district with a large and valuable quantity of goods carried

on a pack-horse.

The ghost which was supposed to haunt the neighbourhood was curiously

enough not that of the pedlar himself, but took the form of the bundle or

"pack" itself, moving slowly above and along the ground.

Stories which tell of the visitations and appearances of the ghost of

Abraham Crichton, erstwhile Provost of Sanquhar, are to this day well

remembered in the district. A merchant in Sanquhar, he seems in life to

have been a shrewd and active citizen, with the reputation of being very

wealthy. In 1734 he became Provost, succeeding his brother in that office,

and also inheriting the possession of Carco. But evil days came, and in

1741 he was declared a bankrupt. The deed which seems chiefly to have

marked him out for unrest in the next world was the share he took in the

abolition of the services in the old parish church of Kirkbride and of its

existence as a separate parish. An actual attempt, at his instigation, to

"ding doon the Whigs' sanctuary," to use his own expression, was

frustrated by Divine intervention--it was said--in the form of a violent

storm. The workmen were obliged to desist, and shortly afterwards Abraham

met his death by a fall from his horse near Dalpeddar. With this as an

introduction, let Dr Simpson continue the story as it is set down in the

_History of Sanquhar_:--"Though declared a bankrupt before his death, the

good people of Sanquhar were convinced that he must have somewhere

secreted his money, and acted a fradulent part. On this account it was

supposed that he could not rest in his grave, and hence the belief of his

frequent appearances in the sombre churchyard, to the affrightment of all

and sundry who passed near the burying-ground in the evening dusk. The

veritable apparition of this worthy was firmly credited by the populace,

who were kept in a state of perpetual alarm. Many a maid, with her

milk-pail on her head, dashed the whole to the ground when the ghost

showed himself at a kirkyard wall, and ran home screaming with affright,

and finally fell on the floor in a faint. The exploits of the resuscitated

Provost was endless. He assailed all who dared to pass near his

resting-place, young and old, men and women. The consternation became

universal, the attention of the whole district was directed to the

subject, which, indeed, became a topic of discussion throughout the

south-west of Scotland. Its merits were discussed also in the Edinburgh

forum, and attracted the attention of the learned North Briton, Thomas

Rudiman.[47]

At length the matter came to a crisis, and it was found necessary to do

something to allay the popular excitement. In those days it was believed

that certain sacred charms were effectual in allaying a ghost, and that

the charm, whatever it might be, was chiefly to be employed by a minister

of the gospel. The next thing, then, was to find a person of this order

who had the sanctity and fortitude necessary to accomplish the feat. The

individual fixed on was a venerable minister of the name of Hunter, in the

parish of Penpont. During the night he went to the churchyard, and on the

following day gave out that he had laid Abraham's ghost, and that in

future no person need have the least alarm in passing the churchyard, as

he never again would trouble anyone. Mr Hunter's statement was implicitly

believed, and nothing supernatural has since been seen within the ancient

burying-ground of Sanquhar. To add to the seeming mystery which Mr Hunter

wished to keep up, when questioned on what he had said or done to the

spirit he replied, 'No person shall ever know that.' In order, however, to

prevent all such annoyances for the time coming, and to retain Abraham

more effectually within the bounds of his narrow cell, it was deemed

prudent to keep down the flat gravestone with a strong band of iron or

stout chain. This precaution, it was supposed, would keep the popular mind

more at ease."

To Poldean, in Wamphray, situated at the north-west corner of the parish,

on the Annan, about five miles from Moffat, there is a curious old-world

ghost reference in _Law's Memorials_, edited by Kirkpatrick Sharp. In the

narrative, which is here given, Poldean is described as "Powdine in

Annandale":--

"Also in the south-west border of Scotland, in Annandale, there is a house

called Powdine belonging to a gentleman called Johnston; that house hath

been haunted these fifty or sixty years. At my coming to Worcester, 1651,

I spoke with the gentleman (being myself quartered within two miles of the

house). He told me many extraordinary relations consisting in his own

knowledge; and I carried him to my master, to whom he made the same

relations--noises and apparitions, drums and trumpets heard before the

last war; yea, he said, some English soldiers quartered in his house were

soundly beaten by that irresistible inhabitant.... He tells me that the

spirit now speaks, and appears frequently in the shape of a naked arm."

Three and a half miles north-east of Lochmaben, on the banks of the Annan,

stands the turreted ruin of Spedlins Tower, the old home of the Jardines

of Applegarth.

Grim, gaunt, and lonely, one of the best accredited ghost legends in the

south-west of Scotland lingers round its walls. The story has been told

many times, and the version here selected is that of Francis Grose, the

antiquary, who described the Tower in his _Antiquities of Scotland_

(1789-91):--

"Spedlins Tower is chiefly famous for being haunted by a bogle or ghost.

As the relation will enliven the dullness of antiquarian disquisition, I

will here relate it as it was told me by an honest woman who resides on

the spot, and who, I will be sworn from her manner, believed every

syllable of it. In the time of the late Sir John Jardine's grandfather, a

person named Porteous, living in the parish of Applegarth, was taken up on

suspicion of setting fire to a mill, and confined in the lord's prison,

the pit or dungeon, at this castle. The lord being suddenly called to

Edinburgh on some pressing and unexpected business, in his hurry forgot to

leave the key of the pit, which he always held in his own custody. Before

he discovered his mistake and could send back the key--which he did the

moment he found it out--the man was starved to death, having first,

through the extremity of hunger, gnawed off one of his hands. Ever after

that time the castle was terribly haunted till a Chaplain of the family

exorcised and confined the bogle to the pit, whence it could never come

out, so long as a large Bible, which he had used on that business,

remained in the castle. It is said that the Chaplain did not long survive

this operation. The ghost, however, kept quietly within the bounds of his

prison till a long time after, when the Bible, which was used by the whole

family, required a new binding, for which purpose it was sent to

Edinburgh. The ghost, taking advantage of its absence, was extremely

boisterous in the pit, seeming as if it would break through the iron door,

and making a noise like that of a large bird fluttering its wings. The

Bible being returned, and the pit filled up, everything has since remained

perfectly quiet. But the good woman declared, that should it again be

taken off the premises no consideration whatever would induce her to

remain there a single night."

Jardine Hall, the new home of the Jardines, to which the family had

removed, is situated on the opposite side of the river Annan, its windows

overlooking the old walls of Spedlins Tower. It also was by no means free

from a share of the haunting of the dead miller, for during the time the

Bible had gone to Edinburgh to be re-bound, the ghost, getting out of the

dungeon, crossed the river and presented itself at the new house, making a

great disturbance, and actually hauling the baronet and his lady out of

bed. Some accounts indeed, say that so terrifying was its behaviour that

the unhappy owner of Jardine Hall refused to wait until the Bible was

repaired, but recalled it hastily before it reached the Capital, in order

that its holy presence might quell the restless spirit and keep it

confined to its dungeon.

The Bible which plays so prominent a part in the story is an old

black-letter edition, printed by Robert Baker, A.D. 1634. It is covered

with old calf-skin, and inclosed in a massive brass-bound box made out of

one of the old beams of Spedlins Tower itself, which, needless to say, is

most carefully preserved.

The spirited ballad of "The Prisoner of Spedlins," by Robert Chambers, may

here not inappropriately be included:--

To Edinburgh, to Edinburgh,

The Jardine he maun ride;

He locks the gates behind him,

For lang he means to bide,

And he, nor any of his train,

While minding thus to flit,

Thinks of the weary prisoner

Deep in the castle pit.

They were not gane a day, a day,

A day but barely four,

When neighbours spake of dismal cries

Were heard from Spedlins Tower.

They mingled wi' the sighs of trees

And the thud-thud o' the linn;

But nae ane thocht 'twas a deein' man

That made that eldrich din.

At last they mind the gipsy loon

In dungeon lay unfed;

But ere the castle key was got

The gipsy loon was dead.

They found the wretch stretch'd out at length

Upon the cold, cold stone,

With starting eyes and hollow cheek,

And arms peeled to the bone.

* * * * *

Now Spedlins is an eerie house,

For oft at mirk midnight

The wail of Porteous' starving cry

Fills a' that house wi' fright:

"O let me out, O let me out,

Sharp hunger cuts me sore;

If ye suffer me to perish so,

I'll haunt you evermore."

O sad, sad was the Jardine then,

His heart was sorely smit;

Till he could wish himself had been

Left in that deadly pit.

But "Cheer up," cried his lady fair,

"'Tis purpose makes the sin;

And where the heart has had no part

God holds his creature clean."

Then Jardine sought a holy man

To lay that vexing sprite;

And for a week that holy man

Was praying day and night.

And all that time in Spedlins House

Was held a solemn fast,

Till the cries waxed low, and the boglebo

In the deep red sea was cast.

* * * * *

There lies a Bible in Spedlins Ha',

And while it there shall lie

Nae Jardine can tormented be

With Porteous' starving cry.

But Applegarth's an altered man,

He is no longer gay;

The thought of Porteous clings to him

Until his dying day.

The mansion-house of Knockhill, in the parish of Hoddom, was the scene of

a tragedy in the earlier part of last century, which had the sequence of

ghost visitation. It is referred to in the "Irvings of Hoddom," an

interesting contribution to the family history of the district. Shortly

the story is as follows:--A young man named Bell who had been

surreptitiously visiting his sweetheart, one of the maids in the house,

was heard by the butler, who shot him as he was escaping through a

basement window. The butler was tried and acquitted, but Knockhill was

afterwards haunted by the ghost of the victim so much that servants would

not remain. At last the proprietor, then a Mr Scott, asked the Rev. W.

Wallace Duncan, then helper to Mr Yorstoun, parish minister, to sleep in

the house, with the result, it is told, that from then the ghost

disappeared from Knockhill.(89)

In this same parish of Hoddom, the student of Carlyle will remember that

"old John Orr," the only schoolmaster that Carlyle's father ever had,

"laid a ghost." It was in "some house or room at Orchard, in the parish of

Hoddom. He entered the haunted place, was closeted in it for some time,

speaking and praying. The ghost was really and truly laid, for no one

heard more of it."(90)

Bonshaw Tower, on the Kirtle (parish of Annan), the original home of the

Irvings, also contributes to the ghost-lore of the district.

Tradition tells that a daughter of the house was thrown from the

battlements of the Tower by her own relatives, whom she had deeply

incensed by her determination to marry a "Maxwell," with which family the

Irvings held long and bitter feud. It is, or rather was, the ghost of this

young lady who haunted the Tower of Bonshaw, but she has not been visible

within living memory.

Blackett Tower, also on the Kirtle (parish of Kirkpatrick-Fleming), was a

border fortress well known in the records of border raid and foray. It was

for long the home of the family of Bell.

The ruined tower has a ghost legend which claims it as the abode of a

spectre known as "Old Red-Cap, or Bloody Bell." A poetical descriptive

reference to the tower and its phantom occurs in the poem of "Fair Helen."

The passage is of undoubted vigour and masterly touch, and is here given,

the author, William Scott Irving, at the same time offering the opinion

"that the legends and anecdotes of 'Bloody Bell' would fill a large quarto

volume":

Of Blackett's Towers strange tales are told:

The legendary lore of old,

That dread belief, whose mystic spell

Could people Gothic vault or cell

With being of terrific form,

And superstition bound the charm.

'Tis said, that here, at the night's high noon,

When broad and red the eastern moon

Beams through the chinks of its vast saloon,

A ghastly phantom takes its stand

On the wall that frowns o'er wear and strand,

A bloody dagger in its hand,

And ever and aye on the hollow gale

Is heard its honorie and wail

Dying along the distant vale.

The 'nighted peasant starts aghast

To hear its shriekings on the blast;

Turns him to brave the wintry wind,

Nor dares he lingering look behind,

But hurries across the moaning flood,

And deems its waters swollen with blood--

Such are the tales at Lyke-wake drear,

When the unholy hour of night draws near,

When the ban-dog howls, and the lights burn blue,

And the phantom fleets before the view;

When "Red-Cap" wakes his eldrich cry,

And the winds of the wold come moaning by.(91)

The Old Hall of Ecclefechan (Kirkconnel Hall) is also supposed to be

haunted. Little is known about it, but the opinion has been expressed

that "the mysterious apparition of the 'Ha' Ghost' seems to have haunted

the place from the distant past, and its mysterious and noisy

demonstrations have from time to time disturbed the residents. It is said

to make its appearance before and at the time of the death of any member

of the family."(92)

In the parish of Eskdalemuir there is a farm-house called Todshawhill. It

is on the Black Esk, about three miles in a south-westerly direction from

the Parish Church. With the name of this farm there is associated the

memory of something uncanny, known far and wide as the "Bogle of

Todshawhill." It seems rather to have been a "brownie" than a "ghost," but

some account of it is here given as described by Dr Brown and embodied in

an antiquarian account of the parish. According to Dr Brown, one of the

bogle's biographers, this creature made a stay of a week, less or more, at

Todshawhill farmhouse, disappearing for the most part during the day, only

to reappear towards evening. Its freaks and eccentricities very naturally

attracted a number of people to the neighbourhood, and among the number,

Thomas Bell from Westside, the neighbouring farmer, who, in order to

assure himself that it had flesh and blood like other folks, took it up

in his arms and fully satisfied himself that it had its ample share of

both. In appearance it resembled an old woman above the middle, with very

short legs and thighs, and it affected a style of walk at once so comical

and undignified that the Rev. Dr aforesaid was compelled to pronounce it

"waddling." The first intimation or indication of its presence in these

parts was given, I understand, at the head of Todshawhill Bog, where some

young callants who were engaged in fastening up the horses of the farm

heard a cry at some little distance off--"Tint, Tint, Tint"--to which one

of the lads, William Nichol by name, at once replied, "You shall not tine

and me here," and then the lads made off, helter-skelter, with the

misshapen little creature at their heels. In his terror one of the lads

fell head foremost into a hole or moss hag, and the creature, "waddling"

past him to get at the rest, came into violent contact with a cow, which,

naturally resenting such unceremonious treatment, pushed at it with its

horns, whereupon the creature replied, "God help me, what means the cow?"

This expression soothed, if it did not wholly allay, the fears of all

concerned, for they at once concluded that if the creature had been a

spirit it would not have mentioned the name of Deity in the way it

did.(93)

The last account to be quoted of supernatural visitation in the

south-western district of Scotland is a particularly striking one, and is

taken from an interesting contribution to a recent number of _Chambers's

Journal_ dealing with apparitions:--

"In the Lowlands of Scotland stood an old manor house, where the owner's

wife was on her death-bed. The ancient furniture still remained in the

room, so the invalid lay in a four-post bed, with curtains all round it,

wherein many generations of the family had been born and died. The

curtains were drawn at its foot and on the side nearest the wall, but they

were open on the other to a blazing fire, before which sat an attendant

nurse. A tall screen on her left hand shielded her from the draught from a

door, whose top was visible above it; and as the nurse sat there she

became conscious that the door was opening and that a hand seemed to rest

for a moment on the top of the screen. Presently, as she watched,

half-paralysed with fear, a figure appeared from behind the screen--the

figure of a young woman clothed in a sacque of rich brocade, over a pink

silk petticoat, and wearing a head-dress of the time of Queen Anne. This

figure advanced with a gentle undulating movement to the bed and bent down

over it. Then the nurse jumped up and stretched out her hand to the

bell-pull; and, lo! when she looked again the figure had vanished, and her

patient lay there dead, with an expression of rapturous content on her

sunken face.(94)

Later, when the last sad rites had been accomplished, this nurse wandered

into the picture gallery in company with the housekeeper, and pausing

before a certain portrait, exclaimed that there was the original of the

unknown lady.

'Ah,' came the answer, 'that lady lived here when Queen Anne was on the

throne. They say she had a sad life with her lord, and died young. Ever

since she is believed, when the mistress of the manor dies, to appear

beside the bed, and--and'----

'You need not tell me more,' said the nurse, 'for I also have seen

her.'"(94)

No account of superstitious belief in Galloway would be complete without

reference to three remarkable tracts, giving quaint and circumstantial

accounts of alleged supernatural visitations from the spirit-world beyond.

In their order of publication these are--(_a_) "The Surprising Story of

the Devil of Glenluce"; (_b_) "A True Account of an Apparition which

infested the house of Andrew Mackie, in Ringcroft, Parish of Rerwick, and

Stewartry of Kirkcudbright in 1695, ... Mr Alexander Telfair"; and (_c_)

"The Laird o' Coul's Ghost."

The "Devil of Glenluce" first appeared in an old work on _Hydrostaticks_

by George Sinclair, Professor of Philosophy and afterwards of Mathematics

in the University of Glasgow. This work was published in 1672. It was

again printed in his more important work, _Satan's Invisible World_, in

1685. The theme is concerned with the persecution of one Gilbert Campbell,

a weaver, and his family, in the village of Glenluce, by an evil and

tormenting spirit. As a chapbook this curious work had a very wide

circulation.

The "True Account of the Rerwick Apparition" when first published called

for two editions within the first year, and with many alterations it was

also published in London under the title of "New Confutation of Sadducism,

being a narrative of a Spirit which infested the house of Andrew Mackie of

Ringcroft, Galloway, in 1695." Only the site of Ringcroft of Stoking,

marked by some old fir trees, remains, near the village of Auchencairn.

"The Laird o' Coul's Ghost" seems to have originally appeared as a

chapbook, and is thought to have been first published in 1750. It is

supposed to be--and the purpose is quaintly carried out--an account of

four conferences which the Rev. William Ogilvie (Minister of Innerwick,

East Lothian, 1715-1729), held with the restless spirit of Thomas Maxwell,

Laird of Cuil, a small estate in the parish of Buittle, in Galloway, and

who in his lifetime had done a dishonourable action which tormented him

beyond the grave.

As these tracts have a direct bearing on the general consideration of

superstitious record in the South-west of Scotland, and as they are not

particularly easy of access, it has been deemed advisable to reprint them,

and include them as an appendix to this volume.

[Illustration]

APPENDIX.

"Surprising Story of the Devil of Glenluce," reprinted from _Satan's

Invisible World_, written by George Sinclair, and printed in Edinburgh in

the year 1685.

This is that famous and notable Story of the Devil of Glenluce, which I

published in my _Hydrostaticks_, _anno_ 1672, and which since hath been

transcribed word by word by a learned pen, and published in the late book

intitutled _Saducismus Triumphaius_, whom nothing but the truth thereof,

and usefulness for refuting Atheism could have perswaded to transcribe.

The subject matter then of this story is a true and short account of the

troubles wherewith the family of one Gilbert Campbel, by profession a

Weaver in the old Parish of Glenluce in Galloway, was exercised. I have

adventured to publish it _de novo_ in this book, first because it was but

hudled up among purposes of another nature. But now I have reduced it to

its own proper place. Next, because this story is more full, being

enlarged with new additions, which were not in the former, and ends not so

abruptly, as the other did.

It happened (says my informer, Gilbert Campbel's son, who was then a

student of philosophy in the Colledge of Glasgow) that after one Alexander

Agnew, a bold and sturdy beggar, who afterwards was hanged at Drumfries

for blasphemy, had threatened hurt to the familie because he had not

gotten such an almes as he required, the said Gilbert Campbel was

often-times hindered in the exercise of his calling, and yet could not

know by what means this was done. This Agnew, among many blasphemous

expressions had this one, when he was interrogate by the judges whether or

not he thought there was a God, he answered, he knew no God but salt,

meal, and water. When the stirs began first there was a whistling heard

both within and without the house. And Jennet Campbel, going one day to

the well to bring home some water, was conveyed with a shril whistling

about her ears, which made her say, "I would fain hear thee speake as well

as whistle." Hereupon it said, after a threatening manner, "I'le cast thee

Jennet into the well." The voice was most exactlie like the damsel's

voice, and did resemble it to the life. The gentlewoman that heard this

and was a witness thought the voice was very near to her own ears, and

said the whistling was such as children use to make with their smal

slender glass whistles.

About the middle of November the Foul-Fiend came on with new and

extraordinary assaults, by throwing of stones in at the doors and windows

and down the chimney-head, which were of great quantity and thrown with

force, yet by God's providence there was not one person in the family that

was hurt. This did necessitate Gilbert Campbel to reveale that to the

Minister of the Parish and to some other neighbours and friends which

hitherto he had suffered secretly. Notwithstanding of this, his trouble

was enlarged; for not long after he found often-times his warp and threeds

cut as with a pair of sizzers, and not only so, but their apparel were cut

after the same manner, even while they were wearing them--their coats,

bonnets, hose, shoes--but could not discern how or by what mean. Only it

pleased God to preserve their persons, that the least harm was not done.

Yet in the night time they had not liberty to sleep, something coming and

pulling their bedcloaths and linnings off them and leaving their bodies

naked. Next their chests and trunks were opened and all things in them

strawed here and there. Likewise the parts of their working-instruments

which had escaped were carried away and hid in holes and bores of the

house, where hardly they could be found again. Nay, what ever piece of

cloath or household-stuff was in any part of the house it was carried away

and so cut and abused that the goodman was necessitate in all haste and

speed to remove and transport the rest to a neighbour's house, and he

himself compelled to quite the exercise of his calling, whereby he only

maintained his family. Yet he resolved to remain in his house for a

season; during which time some persons about, not very judicious,

counselled him to send his children out of the family here and there to

try whom the trouble did most follow, assuring him that this trouble was

not against the whole family, but against some one person or other in it,

whom he too willingly obeyed. Yet, for the space of four or five dayes

there were no remarkable assaults as before. The Minister hearing thereof

shewed him the evil of such a course, and assured him that if he repented

not and called back his children he might not expect that his trouble

would end in a right way. The children that were nigh by being brought

home, no trouble followed, till one of his sons called Thomas that was

farest off came home. Then did the Devil begin afresh, for upon the Lord's

Day following, in the afternoon, the house was set on fire; but by the

help of some neighbors going home from sermon, the fire was put out and

the house saved, not much loss being done. And Munday after being spent in

private prayer and fasting, the house was again set on fire upon the

Tuesday about nine o'clock in the morning, yet by the speedy help of

neighbors it was saved, little skaith being done.

The Weaver being thus vexed and wearied both day and night, went to the

Minister of the Parish, an honest and Godly man, desiring him to let his

son Thomas abide with him for a time, who condescended, but withal assured

him that he would find himself deceived; and so it came to pass, for

notwithstanding that the lad was without the family yet were they that

remained in it sore troubled both in the day time and night season, so

that they were forced to wake till midnight and sometimes all the night

over, during which time the persons within the family suffered many

losses, as the cutting of their cloaths, the throwing of piets, the

pulling down of turff and feal from the roof and walls of the house, and

the stealing of their cloaths, and the pricking of their flesh and skin

with pins.

Some Ministers about, having conveened at the place for a solemn

humiliation, perswaded Gilbert Campbel to call back his son Thomas,

notwithstanding of whatsoever hazard might follow. The boy returning home

affirmed that he heard a voice speak to him, forbidding him to enter

within the house or in any other place where his father's calling was

exercised. Yet he entered, but was sore abused, till he was forced to

return to the Minister's house again.

Upon Munday, the 12 of February, the rest of the family began to hear a

voice speak to them, but could not well know from whence it came. Yet from

evening till midnight too much vain discourse was kept up with Satan, and

many idle and impertinent questions proposed, without that due fear of God

that should have been upon their spirits under so rare and extraordinary a

trial. They came that length in familiar discourse with the Foul-Thief

that they were no more afrayed to keep up the clash with him than to speak

to one another. In this they pleased him well, for he desired no better

than to have sacrifices offered to him. The Minister, hearing of this,

went to the house upon the Tuesday, being accompanied with some gentlemen,

one James Bailie of Carphin, Alexander Bailie of Dunraged, Mr Robert Hay,

and a gentlewoman called Mistris Douglas, whom the Minister's wife did

accompanie.

At their first in-coming the Devil says, "_Quum literarum_, is good

Latine." These are the first words of the Latine rudiments which

schollars are taught when they go to the grammar school. He crys again, "A

dog."

The Minister, thinking that he had spoken it to him, said, "He took it not

ill to be reviled by Satan, since his Master had troden that path before

him."

Answered Satan, "It was not you, sir, I spoke it to; I meant by the dog

there," for there was a dog standing behind backs.

This passing, they all went to prayer, which being ended, they heard a

voice speaking out of the ground from under a bed in the proper countrey

dialect, which he did counterfeit exactly, saying, "Would you know the

witches of Glenluce? I will tell you them"--and so related four or five

persons' names that went under a bad report.

The Weaver informed the company that one of them was dead long ago.

The Devil answered and said, "It is true, she is dead long ago, but her

spirit is living with us in the world."

The Minister replied, saying (though it was not convenient to speak to

such an excommunicat and intercommuned person), "The Lord rebuke thee,

Satan, and put thee to silence; we are not to receive information from

thee whatsoever fame any person goes under; thou are seeking to seduce

this family, for Satan's kingdom is not divided against itself."

After which all went to prayer again, which being ended (for during the

time of prayer no noise or trouble was made, except once that a loud

fearful youel was heard at a distance) the Devil with many threatnings

boasted and terrified the lad Tom, who had come back that day with the

Minister, that if he did not depart out of the house he would set all on

fire.

The Minister answered and said, "The Lord will preserve the house and the

lad too, seeing he is one of the family and hath God's warrant to tarry in

it."

The Fiend answered, "He shall not get liberty to tarry; he was once put

out already, and shal not abide here, though I should pursue him to the

end of the world."

The Minister replied, "The Lord will stop thy malice against him."

And then they all went to prayer again, which being ended, the Devil said,

"Give me a spade and a shovel, and depart from the house for seven days,

and I will make a grave and ly down in it, and shall trouble you no more."

The goodman answered, "Not so much as a straw shal be given thee through

God's assistance, even though that would do it." The Minister also added,

"God shal remove thee in due time."

The Spirit answered, "I will not remove for you; I have my commission from

Christ to tarry and vex this family."

The Minister answered, "A permission thou hast indeed, but God will stop

it in due time."

The Devil replied, "I have, sir, a commission which perhaps will last

longer than your own."

The Minister died in the year 1655, in December. The Devil had told them

that he had given his commission to Tom to keep.

The company enquired at the lad, who said there was a something put into

his pocket, but it did not tarry.

After this the Minister and the gentlemen arose and went to the place

whence the voice seemed to come, to try if they could see or find any

thing. After diligent search, nothing being found, the gentlemen began to

say, "We think this voice speaks out of the children," for some of them

were in their beds.

The Foul-Spirit answered, "You lie; God shall judge you for your lying,

and I and my father will come and fetch you to hell with warlock thieves:"

and so the Devil discharged the gentlemen to speak any thing, saying, "Let

him speak that hath a commission (meaning the Minister), for he is the

servant of God."

The gentlemen, returning back with the Minister, sat down near the place

whence the voice seemed to come, and he opening his mouth spake to them

after this manner: "The Lord will rebuke this spirit in his own time and

cast it out."

The Devil answering, said, "It is written in the _9th of Mark_, The

Disciples could not cast him out."

The Minister replyed, "What the Disciples could not do, yet the Lord,

having hightned the parents' faith, for His own glory did cast him out and

so shall He thee."

The Devil replyed, "It is written in the _4th of Luke_, 'And He departed

and left him for a season.'"

The Minister said, "The Lord in the dayes of His humiliation not only got

the victory over Satan in that assault in the wilderness, but when he came

again his success was no better, for it is written (_John 14_), 'Behold

the Prince of this World cometh and hath nothing in me,' and being now in

glory He will fulfil His promise, and (_Rom. 16_) 'God shal bruise Satan

under your feet shortly.'"

The Devil answered, "It is written (_Matth. 25_) 'There were ten virgins,

five wise & five foolish; and the bridegroom came, the foolish virgins had

no oyl in their lamps, and went unto the wise to seek oyl, and the wise

said, Go and buy for your selves; and while they went the bridegroom came

and entered in, and the door was shut, and the foolish virgins were sent

to hell's fire.'"

The Minister answered, "The Lord knows the sincerity of His servants, and

though there be sin and folly in us here, yet there is a fountain opened

to the house of David for sin and for uncleanness. When He hath washen us

and pardoned our sins for His name's sake He will cast the unclean spirit

out of the land."

The Devil answered and said, "Sir, you should have cited for that place of

Scripture the 13 chap. of _Zech._," and so he began at the first verse and

repeated several verses, and concluded with these words, "'In that day I

will cause the prophet and the unclean spirit pass out of the land'; but

afterwards it is written, 'I will smite the Shepherd, and the sheep shall

be scattered.'"

The Minister answered and said, "Well are we that our blessed Shepherd was

smitten, and thereby hath bruised thy head, and albeit in the hour of His

sufferings His Disciples forsook Him (_Matth. 26_). Yet now having

ascended on high He sits in glory, and is preserving, gathering in, and

turning His hand upon His little ones, and will save His poor ones in this

family from thy malice."

The Minister returning back a little and standing upon the floor, the

Devil said, "I knew not these Scriptures till my father taught me them."

Then the Minister conjured him to tell whence he was.

The Foul-Fiend replyed that he was an evil spirit come from the bottomless

pit of hell to vex this house, and that Satan was his father; and

presently there appeared a naked hand and an arm, from the elbow down,

beating upon the floor till the house did shake again, and also he uttered

a most fearful and loud cry, saying, "Come up, Father, come up; I will

send my father among you; see, there he is behind your backs."

The Minister said, "I saw indeed an hand and an arm when the stroak was

given, and heard."

The Devil said to him, "Say you that? It was not my hand, it was my

father's: my hand is more black in the loof."

"O," said Gilbert Campbel, "that I might see thee as well as I hear thee!"

"Would you see me?" says the Foul-Thief; "put out the candle and I shal

come butt the house among you like fire balls. I shall let you see me

indeed."

Alexander Bailie of Dunraged says to the Minister, "Let us go ben and see

if there be any hand to be seen."

The Devil answered, "No, let him come ben alone; he is a good honest man,

his single word may be believed."

About this time the Devil abused Mr Robert Hay, a very honest gentleman,

very ill, with his tongue, calling him witch and warlock. A little after,

the Devil cryes (it seems out of purpose and in a purpose), "A witch, a

witch, ther's a witch sitting upon the ruist, take her away:" he meant a

hen sitting upon the balk of the house.

These things being past, all went to prayer, during which time he was

silent. Prayer being ended, the Devil answered and said, "If the goodman's

son's prayers at the Colledge of Glasgow did not prevail with God: my

father and I had wrought a mischief here ere now."

To which Alexander Bailie of Dunraged replied, "Well, well, I see you

confess there is a God, and that prayer prevails with Him, and therefore

we must pray to God, and commit the event to Him."

To whom the Devil replied, "Yea, sir, you speak of prayer with your

broad-lipped hat (for the gentleman had lately gotten a hat in the fashion

with broad lipps). I'le bring a pair of shears from my father, which shall

clip the lipps off it a little." Whereupon he presently imagined that he

heard and felt a pair of shears going round about his hat, which caused

him lift it to see if the Foul-Thief had medled with it.

During this time several things, but of less moment, passed, as that he

would have Tom a merchant, Rob a smith, John a minister, and Hue a lawier,

all which in some measure came to pass. As to Jennet, the goodman's

daughter, he cryes to her, "Jennet Campbel, Jennet Campbel, wilt thou cast

me thy belt?"

Quoth she, "what a widdy would thou do with my belt?"

"I would fain (says he) fasten my loose bones closs together with it."

A younger daughter sitting busking her puppies, as young girls use to do,

being threatned by the Fiend that he would ding out her harns, that is,

brain her, answered without being concerned, "No, if God be to the fore,"

and so fell to her work again.

The goodwife of the house having brought out some bread was breaking it,

to give everyone of the company a piece.

Cryes he, "Grissel Wyllie, Grissel Wyllie, give me a piece of that hard

bread (for so they call their oat cakes). I have gotten nothing this day

but a bit from Marrit"--that is, as they speak in that countrey,

Margaret.

The Minister said, "Beware of that, for it is a sacrificing to the Devil."

The girle was called for, and asked if she gave him any hard bread. "No,"

says she, "but when I was eating my due piece this morning something came

and clicked it out of my hand."

The evening being now far spent, it was thought fit that every one should

withdraw to his own home. Then did the Devil cry out fearfully, "Let not

the Minister goe home, I shall burn the house if he go," and many other

ways did he threaten.

After the Minister had gone foorth Gilbert Campbel was very instant with

him to tarry, whereupon he returned, all the rest going home. When he came

into the house the Devil gave a great gaff of laughter: "You have now,

sir, done my bidding."

"Not thine," answered the other, "but in obedience to God have I returned

to bear this man companie, whom thou doest afflict." Then did the Minister

call upon God, and when prayer was ended he discharged the Weaver and all

the persons of the familie to speak a word to the Devil, and when it spake

that they should only kneel down and speak to God.

The Devil then roared mightily and cryed out, "What! will ye not speake to

me? I shall strike the bairns and do all manner of mischief."

But after that time no answer was made to it, and so for a long time no

speech was heard. Several times hath he beat the children in their beds,

and the claps of his loof upon their buttocks would have been heard, but

without any trouble to them. While the Minister and gentlemen were

standing at the door readie to go home the Minister's wife and the

goodwife were within.

Then cryed Satan, "Grissel, put out the candle."

Sayes she to the Minister's wife, "Shall I do it?"

"No," says the other, "For then you shal obey the Devil."

Upon this he cryes again with a louder shout, "Put out the candle." The

candle still burns. The third time he cries, "Put out the candle," and no

obedience being given to him he did so often reiterate these words and

magnify his voice that it was astonishment to hear him, which made them

stop their ears, they thinking the sound was just at their ears. At last

the candle was put out. "Now," says he, "I'le trouble you no more this

night."

I must insert here what I heard from one of the Ministers of that

Presbytrie, who with the rest were appointed to meet at the Weaver's house

for prayer and other exercises of that kind. When the day came, five only

met. But before they went in they stood a while in the croft, which layes

round about the house, consulting what to do. They resolved upon two

things--First, there should be no words of conjuration used, as commanding

him in the name of God to tell whence he was or to depart from the

familie, for which they thought they had no call from God. Secondly, that

when the Devil spake none should answer him, but hold on in their

worshipping of God and the duties they were called to. When all of them

had prayed by turns and three of them had spoken a word or two from the

Scripture, they prayed again, and then ended without any disturbance. When

that brother who informed me had gone out, one Hue Nisbet, one of the

company, came running after him, desiring him to come back, for he had

begun to whistle. "No," sayes the other, "I tarried as long as God called

me, but go in again I will not."

After this the said Gilbert suffered much loss, and had many sad nights,

not two nights in one week free, and thus it continued till April; from

April till July he had some respite and ease, but after he was molested

with new assaults, and even their victuals were so abused that the family

was in hazard of starving, and that which they eat gave them not their

ordinary satisfaction they were wont to find.

In this sore and sad affliction Gilbert Campbel resolved to make his

addresses to the Synod of Presbyters for advice and counsel what to do,

which was appointed to conveen in October, 1655--namely, whether to

forsake the house or not? The Synod, by their committy appointed to meet

at Glenluce in February, 1656, thought fit that a solemn humiliation

should be kept through all the bounds of the Synod; and, among other

causes, to request God in behalf of that afflicted family, which, being

done carefully, the event was that his troubles grew less till April, and

from April to August he was altogether free. About which time the Devil

began with new assaults, and taking the ready meat that was in the house

did sometimes hide it in holes by the door-posts, and at other times did

hide it under the beds, and sometimes among the bedcloaths, and under the

linnings, and at last did carry it quite away, till nothing was left

there, save bread and water. This minds me of a small passage, as a proof

of what is said. The goodwife one morning making pottage for the

children's breakfasts had the tree-plate, wherein the meal lay, snatched

from her quickly.

"Well," says she, "let me have the plate again." Whereupon it came flying

at her without any skaith done. 'Tis like if she had sought the meale too

she might have got it; such is his civility when he is entreated. A small

homage will please him ere he want all. After this he exercised his malice

and cruelty against all persons in the family in wearying them in the

night time by stirring and moving thorow the house, so that they had no

rest for noise, which continued all the moneth of August after this

manner. After which time the Devil grew yet worse by roaring, and

terrifying them by casting of stones, by striking them with staves on

their beds in the night time. And upon the 18 of September, about

midnight, he cryed out with a loud voice, "I shall burn the house." And

about three or four nights after he set one of the beds on fire, which was

soon put out without any prejudice, except the bed itself.

Thus I have written a short and true account of all the material passages

which occurred. To write every particular, especially of lesser moment,

would fill a large volum. The goodman lived several years after this in

the same house; and it seems that by some conjuration or other the Devil

suffered himself to be put away, and gave the Weaver a peaceable

habitation. This Weaver has been a very odd man that endured so long these

marvellous disturbances.

"A True Relation of an Apparition, Expressions and Actings, of a Spirit

which infested the house of Andrew Mackie, in Ringcroft of Stocking, in

the Parish of Rerwick, in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, in Scotland."

Printed in Edinburgh by George Mosman, and sold at his shop in the

Parliament Close, 1696.

Whereas many are desirous to know the truth of the matter, as to the Evil

Spirit and its actings, that troubled the family of Andrew Mackie, in

Ringcroft of Stocking, &c., and are liable to be mis-informed, as I do

find by the reports that come to my own ears of that matter; therefore

that satisfaction may be given, and such mistakes cured or prevented, I,

the Minister of the said parish (who was present several times, and was

witness to many of its actings, and have heard an account of the whole of

its methods and actings from the persons present, towards whom, and before

whom it did act), have given the ensuing and short account of the whole

matter, which I can attest to be the very truth as to that affair; and

before I come to the relation itself, I premise these things with respect

to what might have been the occasion and rise of that spirit's appearing

and acting.

1. The said Andrew Mackie being a mason to his employment, 'tis given out,

that when he took the mason word, he devoted his first child to the Devil;

but I am certainly informed he never took the same, and knows not what

that word is. He is outwardly moral; there is nothing known to his life

and conversation, but honest, civil, and harmless, beyond many of his

neighbours; doth delight in the company of the best; and when he was under

the trouble of that evil spirit, did pray to the great satisfaction of

many. As for his wife and children, none have imputed any thing to them as

the rise of it, nor is there any ground, for aught I know, for any to do

so.

2. Whereas it is given out that a woman, _sub mala fama_, did leave some

clothes in that house in the custody of the said Andrew Mackie, and died

before they were given up to her, and he and his wife should have kept

some of them back from her friends. I did seriously pose both him and his

wife upon the matter; they declared they knew not what things were left,

being bound up in a sack, but did deliver entirely to her friends all they

received from the woman, which I am apt to believe.

[Illustration: "RINGCROFT OF STOCKING," NOW NO LONGER IN EXISTENCE.

(Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.)]

3. Whereas one, ---- Macknaught, who sometime before possessed the house,

did not thrive in his own person or goods. It seems he had sent his son to

a witch-wife who lived then at the Routing Bridge, in the parish of

Irongray, to enquire what might be the cause of the decay of his person

and goods. The youth, meeting with some foreign soldiers, went abroad to

Flanders, and did not return with an answer. Some years after there was

one John Redick in this parish who, having had occasion to go abroad, met

with the said young Macknaught in Flanders, and they knowing other,

Macknaught enquired after his father and other friends; and finding the

said John Redick was to go home, desired him to go to his father, or

whoever dwelt in the Ringcroft, and desire them to raise the door

threshold, and search till they found a tooth, and burn it, for none who

dwelt in that house would thrive till that was done. The said John Redick

coming home, and finding the old man Macknaught dead and his wife out of

that place, did never mention the matter nor further mind it till this

trouble was in Andrew Mackie's family, then he spoke of it and told the

matter to myself. Betwixt Macknaught's death and Andrew Mackie's

possession of this house there was one Thomas Telfair who possessed it

some years. What way he heard the report of what the witch-wife had said

to Macknaught's son I cannot tell; but he searched the door threshold and

found something like a tooth, did compare it with the tooth of a man,

horse, nolt, and sheep (as he said to me), but could not say which it did

resemble, only it did resemble a tooth. He did cast it into the fire,

where it burnt like a candle or so much tallow; yet he never knew any

trouble about that house by night or by day, before or after, during his

possession. These things premised being suspected to have been the

occasion of the troubles, and there being no more known as to them than

what is now declared, I do think the matter still unknown what may have

given a rise thereto, but leaving this I subjoin the matter as follows:

In the month of February, 1695, the said Andrew Mackie had some young

beasts, which in the night-time were still loosed and their bindings

broken, he taking it to be the unrulyness of the beasts, did make stronger

and stronger bindings, of withes and other things, but still all were

broken. At last he suspected it to be some other thing, whereupon he

removed them out of that place; and the first night thereafter one of them

was bound with a hair-tedder to the back of the house, so strait that the

feet of the beast only touched the ground, but could move no way else, yet

it sustained no hurt. Another night, when the family were all sleeping,

there was the full of a back creel of peats set together in the midst of

the house floor, and fire put in them; the smoke wakened the family,

otherwise the house had been burnt; yet nothing all the time was either

seen or heard.

Upon the 7th of March there were stones thrown in the house in all the

places of it; but it could not be discovered from whence they came, what,

or who threw them. After this manner it continued till the Sabbath, now

and then throwing both in the night and day, but was busiest throwing in

the night-time.

Upon Saturday, the family being all without, the children coming in saw

something which they thought to be a body sitting by the fireside, with a

blanket (or cloth) about it, whereat they were afraid. The youngest, being

a boy about nine or ten years of age, did chide the rest saying, "Why are

you feared, let us saine (or bless) ourselves, and then there is no ground

to fear it." He perceived the blanket to be his, and saining (or blessing)

himself, ran and pulled the blanket from it saying, "Be what it will, it

hath nothing to do with my blanket;" and then they found it to be a

fourfooted stool set upon the end, and the blanket cast over it.

Upon the Sabbath, being the 11th of March, the crook and pot-cleps were

taken away, and were awanting four days, and were found at last on a loft,

where they had been sought several times before.--This is attested by

Charles Macklellan of Colline, and John Cairns in Hardhills. It was

observed that the stones which hit any person had not half their natural

weight; and the throwing was more frequent on the Sabbath than at other

times, and especially in time of prayer, above all other times, it was

busiest then, throwing most at the person praying. The said Andrew Mackie

told the matter to me upon Sabbath after sermon.

Upon the Tuesday thereafter I went to the house, did stay a considerable

time with them and prayed twice, and there was no trouble. Then I came out

with a resolution to leave the house, and as I was standing speaking to

some men at the barn end I saw two little stones drop down on the croft at

a little distance from me, and then immediately some crying out of the

house that it was become as ill as ever within; whereupon I went into the

house again, and as I was at prayer it threw several stones at me, but

they did no hurt, being very small; and after there was no more trouble

till the eighteenth day of March, and then it began as before, and threw

more frequently greater stones, whose strokes were sorer where they hit,

and thus it continued to the 21st. Then I went to the house, and stayed a

great part of the night, but was greatly troubled; stones and several

other things were thrown at me, I was struck several times on the sides

and shoulders very sharply with a great staff, so that those who were

present heard the noise of the strokes. That night it tore off the

bedside, and rapped upon the chests and boards as one calling for

access.--This is attested by Charles Macklellan of Colline, William

Mackminn, and John Tait in Torr. That night as I was once at prayer,

leaning on a bedside, I felt something pressing on my arm; I, casting my

eyes thither, perceived a little white hand and arm from the elbow down,

but presently it evanished. It is to be observed that, notwithstanding of

all that was felt and heard, from the first to the last of this matter,

there was never anything seen, except that hand I saw; and a friend of the

said Andrew Mackie's said he saw as it were a young boy about the age of

fourteen years, with gray clothes, and a bonnet on his head, but presently

disappeared, as also what the three children saw sitting at the fireside.

Upon the 22d the trouble still increased, both against the family and

against the neighbours who came to visit them, by throwing stones and

beating them with staves; so that some were forced to leave the house

before their inclination.--This is attested by Charles Macklellan in

Colline, and Andrew Tait in Torr. Some it would have met as they came to

the house, and stoned with stones about the yards, and in like manner

stoned as they went from the house, of whom Thomas Telfair in Stocking was

one. It made a little wound on the said Andrew Mackie's brow; did thrust

several times at his shoulder, he not regarding; at last it gripped him so

by the hair, that he thought something like nails of fingers scratched his

skin. It dragged severals up and down the house by the cloathes.--This is

attested by Andrew Tait. It gripped one Keige, miller in Auchencairn, so

by his side that he entreated his neighbours to help, and cried it would

rive the side from him. That night it lifted the cloathes off the children

as they were sleeping in bed, and beat them on the hips as if it had been

with one's hand, so that all that were in the house heard it. The door bar

and other things would go through the house as if a person had been

carrying them in their hand, yet nothing seen doing it.--This is attested

by John Telfair in Auchinleck, and others. It rattled on the chests and

bedsides with a staff, and made a great noise; and thus it continued by

throwing stones, striking with staves and rattling in the house, till the

2d of April. At night it cryed "Whist, whist," at every sentence in the

close of prayer; and it whistled so distinctly that the dog barked and ran

to the door, as if one had been calling to hound him.

Aprile 3d, it whistled several times and cryed "Whist, whist."--This is

attested by Andrew Tait.

Upon the 4th of April Charles Macklellan of Colline, landlord, with the

said Andrew Mackie, went to a certain number of ministers met at Buittle,

and gave them an account of the matter, whereupon these ministers made

public prayers for the family, and two of their number, viz., Mr Andrew

Ewart, minister of Kells, and Mr John Murdo, minister of Crossmichael,

came to the house and spent that night in fasting and praying, but it was

very cruel against them, especially by throwing great stones, some of them

about half a stone weight. It wounded Mr Andrew Ewart twice in the head,

to the effusion of his blood, it pulled off his wig in time of prayer, and

when he was holding out his napkin betwixt his hands it cast a stone in

the napkin and therewith threw it from him. It gave Mr John Murdo several

sore strokes, yet the wounds and bruises received did soon cure. There

were none in the house that night escaped from its fury and cruelty. That

night it threw a fiery peat amongst the people, but it did no hurt, it

only disturbed them in time of prayer. And also in the dawning as they

rose from prayer the stones poured down on all who were in the house to

their hurt.--This is attested by Mr Andrew Ewart, Mr John Murdo, Charles

Macklellan, and John Tait.

Upon the 5th of April it set some thatch straw on fire which was in the

barn yard; at night, the house being very throng with neighbours, the

stones were still thrown down among them. As the said Andrew Mackie and

his wife went out to bring in some peats to the fire, when she came to the

door she found a broad stone to shake under her foot, which she never knew

to be loose before; she resolved with herself to see what was beneath it

in the morning thereafter.

Upon the 6th of April, when the house was quiet, she went to the stone and

there found seven small bones, with blood and some flesh, all closed in a

piece of old suddled paper; the blood was fresh and bright. The sight

whereof troubled her, and being afraid laid all down again and ran to

Colline's house, being a quarter of a mile distant; but in that time it

was worse than ever before, by throwing stones and fire balls in and about

the house, but the fire as it lighted did evanish. In that time it threw

a hot stone into the bed betwixt the children, which burnt through the

bed-cloathes; and after it was taken out by the man's eldest son, and had

layen on the floor more than an hour and a half, the said Charles

Macklellan of Colline could not hold it in his hand for heat.--This is

attested by Charles Macklellan. It thrust a staff through the wall of the

house above the children in the bed, shook it over them and groaned. When

Colline came to the house he went to prayer before he offered to lift the

bones; all the time he was at prayer it was most cruel, but as soon as he

took up the bones the trouble ceased.--This is attested by Charles

Macklellan. He sent them presently to me, upon sight whereof I went

immediately to the house. While I was at prayer it threw great stones

which hit me, but did no hurt, then there was no more trouble that night.

The 7th of April being Sabbath, it began again and threw stones, and

wounded William Macminn, a blacksmith, on the head; it cast a plough-sock

at him and also a trough stone upwards of three stone weight, which did

fall upon his back, yet he was not hurt thereby.--Attested by William

Macminn. It set the house twice on fire, yet there was no hurt done, in

respect some neighbours were in the house who helped to quench it. At

night in the twilight as John Mackie, the said Andrew Mackie's eldest

son, was coming home, near to the house, there was an extraordinary light

fell about him and went before him to the house with a swift motion; that

night it continued after its wonted manner.

April 8th, in the morning as Andrew Mackie went down the close he found a

letter both written and sealed with blood. It was directed on the back

thus, "3 years thou shall have to repent a nett it well," and within was

written, "Wo be to thee Scotland Repent and tak warning for the doors of

haven ar all Redy bart against thee, I am sent for a warning to thee to

flee to God yet troublt shall this man be for twenty days, repent repent

repent Scotland or else thou shall." In the middle of the day the persons

alive who lived in that house since it was built, being about twenty-eight

years, were conveined by appointment of the civil magistrate before

Colline, myself, and others, and did all touch the bones, in respect there

was some suspicion of secret murder committed in the place, but nothing

was found to discover the same.

Upon the 9th of April the letter and bones were sent to the ministers, who

were all occasionally met at Kirkcudbright; they appointed five of their

number, viz., Mr John Murdo, Mr James Monteith, Mr John Macmillan, Mr

Samuel Spalding, and Mr William Falconer, with me, to go to the house and

spend so much time as we were able in fasting and prayer.

Upon the 10th of April we went to the house, and no sooner did I begin to

open my mouth but it threw stones at me and all within the house, but

still worst at him who was at duty. It came often with such force upon the

house that it made all the house to shake, it broke a hole through the

timber and thatch of the house and powred in great stones, one whereof,

more than a quarter weight, fell upon Mr Monteith's back, yet he was not

hurt. It threw another with great force at him when he was praying, bigger

than a man's fist, which hit him on the breast, yet he was neither hurt

nor moved thereby. It was thought fit that one of our number with another

person should go by turns and stand under the hole in the outside, so

there was no more trouble from that place; but the barn being joined to

the end of the house, it brake down the barn door and mid wall and threw

stones up the house, but did no great hurt. It gripped and handled the

legs of some as with a man's hand, it hoised up the feet of others while

standing on the ground, thus it did to William Lennox of Millhouse,

myself, and others. In this manner it continued till ten o'clock at

night, but after that there was no more trouble while we were about the

house.--This is attested by Messrs James Monteith, John Murdo, Samuel

Spalding, Wm. Falconer, William Lennox, and John Tait.

The 11th, 12th, and 13th it was worse than ever it was before, for not one

that came into the house did escape heavy strokes. There was one Andrew

Tait in Torr, as he was coming to stay with the family all night, by the

way his dog catched a thulmart, when he came in he cast it by in the

house; thereafter there were other three young men who came in also, and

when they were all at prayer the Evil Spirit beat them with the dead

thulmart and threw it before them. The three who knew it not to be in the

house were greatly affrighted, especially one Samuel Thomson, a chapman,

whom it also gripped by the side and back, and thrust as if it had been an

hand beneath his clothes and into his pockets, he was so affrighted that

he took sickness immediately.--This is attested by Andrew Tait.

The 14th being the Sabbath, it set some straw on fire that was in the barn

yard, and threw stones till ten o'clock at night; it threw an dike spade

at the said Andrew Mackie, with the mouth toward him, but he received no

hurt; while an meal-sive was tossed up and down the house, the said

Andrew Mackie takes hold of it, and as it were with difficulty gets the

grip keeped, at last all within the rim is torn out. Thereafter it threw a

handful of the sive rolled together at Thomas Robertson in Airds, who was

witness to this, yet in all its actings there was never any thing seen,

but what I mentioned before.

Upon the 15th of April, William Anderson, a drover, and James Paterson,

his son-in-law, came to the house with Colline in the evening. Colline

going home a while within night, the said Andrew Mackie sent his sons to

convey him; as they returned they were cruelly stoned, and the stones

rolled amongst their legs, like to break them. Shortly after they came in,

it wounded William Anderson on the head, to the great effusion of his

blood. In time of prayer it whistled, groaned, and cryed "Whist,

whist."--This is attested by John Cairns.

The 16th it continued whisting, groaning, whistling, and throwing stones

in time of prayer; it cryed "Bo, bo," and kick, cuck, and shook men back

and forward, and hoised them up as if to lift them off their knees.--This

is attested by Andrew Tait.

The whole family went from the house, and left five honest neighbours to

wait on the same all night; but there was no hurt done to them, nor the

family where they were, nor to those neighbours who stayed in the said

Andrew Mackie's house, only the cattle were cast over other to the hazard

of killing them, as they were bound to the stakes, and some of them were

loosed.--This is attested by John Cairns.

Upon the 18th they returned to their house again, and there was no hurt to

them or their cattle that night, except in a little house, where there

were some sheep, it coupled them together in pairs by the neck with straw

ropes, made of an bottle of straw, which it took off an loft in the stable

and carried to the sheep house, which is three or four pair of butts

(arrow shots) distant, and it made more ropes than it needed for binding

the sheep, which it left beside the straw in the sheep-house.--This is

attested by Andrew Tait.

Upon the 19th it fired the straw in the barn, but Andrew Mackie put it

out, (being there threshing) without doing any harm. It shot staves

through the wall at him, but did no hurt.

The 20th, it continued throwing stones, whistling, and whisting, with all

its former words. When it hit any person, and said, "Take you that till

you get more," that person was sure immediately of another; but when it

said, "Take you that," the person got no more for a while.--This is

attested by John Tait.

The 21st, 22nd, and 23rd it continued casting stones, beating with staves,

and throwing peat mud in the faces of all in the house, especially in time

of prayer, with all its former tricks.

The 24th being a day of humiliation appointed to be kept in the parish for

that cause, all that day from morning till night it continued in a most

fearful manner without intermission, throwing stones with such cruelty and

force that all in the house feared lest they should be killed.

The 25th it threw stones all night, but did no great hurt.

The 26th it threw stones in the evening and knocked several times on a

chest, as one to have access; and began to speak and call those that were

sitting in the house witches and rooks, and said it would take them to

hell. The people then in the house said among themselves, if it had any to

speak to it now, it would speak. In the meantime Andrew Mackie was

sleeping. They wakened him, and then he, hearing it say "Thou shalt be

troubled till Tuesday," asked, "Who gave thee a commission?"

To whom it answered, "God gave me a commission, and I am sent to warn the

land to repent, for a judgment is to come if the land do not quickly

repent," and commanded him to reveal it upon his peril; and if the land

did not repent it said it would go to its father and get a commission to

return with a hundred worse than itself, and would trouble every

particular family in the land.

Andrew Mackie said to those that were with him, "If I should tell this I

would not be believed."

Then it said, "Fetch betters; fetch the Minister of the parish and two

honest men upon Tuesday's night, and I shall declare before them what I

have to say." Then it said, "Praise me and I will whistle to you; worship

me and I will trouble you no more."

Then Andrew Mackie said, "The Lord who delivered the three children out of

the fiery furnace, deliver me and mine this night from the temptations of

Satan."

Then it replied, "You might as well have said, Shadrach, Meshach,

Abednego." In the meantime, while Andrew Mackie was speaking, there was

one James Telfair in Buittle who was adding a word, to whom it said, "You

are basely bred, meddling in other men's discourse, wherein you are not

concerned." It likewise said, "Remove your goods, for I will burn the

house."

He answered, "The Lord stop Satan's fury and hinder him of his designs."

Then it said, "I will do it, or you shall guide well."--All this is

attested by John Tait in Torr and several others who cannot subscribe.

Upon the 27th it set fire to the house seven times.

The 28th, being the Sabbath, from sun-rising till sun-setting it still set

the house on fire--as it was quenched in one part, instantly it was fired

in another--and in the evening, when it could not get its designs

fulfilled in burning the house, it pulled down the end of the house, all

the stonework thereof, so that they could not abide in it any longer, but

went and kindled their fire in the stable.

Upon the Sabbath night it pulled one of the children out of the bed,

gripping him, as he thought, by the craig and shoulders; and took up a

block of a tree as great as a plough-head, and held above the children,

saying, "If I had a commission I would brain them." Thus it expressed

itself, in the hearing of all who were in the house.--Attested by William

Macminn and John Crosby.

The 29th, being Monday, it continued setting fire to the house. The said

Andrew Mackie finding the house so frequently set on fire, and being weary

quenching it, he went and put out all the fire that was about the house,

and poured water upon the hearth; yet after it fired the house several

times, when there was no fire within a quarter of a mile of the

house.--This is attested by Charles Macklellan and John Cairnes. In the

midst of the day, as Andrew Mackie was threshing in the barn, it whispered

in the wall and then cried, "Andrew, Andrew," but he gave no answer to it.

Then with an austere angry voice as it were, it said, "Speak;" yet he gave

no answer. Then it said, "Be not troubled; you shall have no more trouble,

except some casting of stones upon Tuesday to fulfill the promise," and

said, "Take away your straw." I went to the house about 11 o'clock; it

fired the house once after I went there. I stayed all night till betwixt

three and four on Tuesday's morning, during which time there was no

trouble about the house, except two little stones dropped down at the

fireside as we were sitting down at our first entry. A little after I went

away it began to throw stones as formerly.--This is attested by Charles

Macklellan and John Tait.

Upon Tuesday's night, being the 30th of April, Charles Macklellan of

Colline, with several neighbours, were in the barn. As he was at prayer he

observed a black thing in the corner of the barn, and it did encrease as

if it would fill the whole house. He could not discern it to have any form

but as if it had been a black cloud; it was affrightning to them all, and

then it threw bear-chaff and other mud upon their faces; and after did

gripp severals that were in the house by the middle of the body, by the

arms and other parts of their bodies, so strait that some said for five

days thereafter that they thought they felt these gripps. After an hour or

two of the night was thus past there was no more trouble.--This is

attested by Charles Macklellan, Thomas Macminn, Andrew Paline, John

Cairnes, and John Tait.

Upon Wednesday's night, being the 1st of May, it fired a little

sheep-house; the sheep were got out safe, but the sheep-house was wholly

burnt. Since there has not been any trouble about the house by night nor

by day.

Now all things aforesaid, being of undoubted verity, therefore I conclude

with that of the Apostle, _1 Peter v., 8-9_, "Be sober, be vigilant;

because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about,

seeking whom he may devour: Whom resist steadfast in the faith."

This relation is attested, as to what they particularly saw, heard, and

felt, by Andrew Ewart, minister of Kells; James Monteith, minister of

Borgue; John Murdo, minister of Crossmichael; Samuel Spalding, minister of

Parton; William Falconer, minister of Kelton; Charles Macklellan of

Colline, William Lennox of Millhouse, Andrew Tait in Torr, John Tait in

Torr, John Cairns in Hardhills, William Macminn, John Crosby, Thomas

Macminn, Andrew Paline, &c.

"The Laird o' Coul's Ghost: an Eighteenth Century Chapbook. An Account of

Mr Maxwell, Laird of Coul, his Appearance after Death to Mr Ogilvie, a

Minister of the present Establishment at Innerwick." (Abridged.)

Upon the third day of February, 1722, at seven o'clock at night, after I

had parted with Thurston [his name Cant], and was coming up the Burial

Road, one came riding up after me: upon hearing the noise of his horse's

feet, I took it to be Thurston, but upon looking back, and seeing the

horse of a greyish colour, I called "Who is there?" The answer was, "The

Laird of Coul [his name Maxwell], be not afraid." Then looking to him by

the help of the dark light which the moon afforded, I took him to be

Collector Castellow designing to put a trick upon me, and immediately I

struck at him with all my force with my cane, thinking I should leave upon

him a mark, to make him remember his presumption; but being sensible, I

aimed as well as ever I did in my life, yet my cane finding no resistance,

but flying out of my hand the distance of about 60 feet, and observing it

by its white head, I dismounted and took it up, and had some difficulty

in mounting again, what by the ramping of my horse and what by reason of a

certain kind of trembling throughout my whole joints, something likewise

of anger had its share in the confusion; for, as I thought, he laughed

when my staff flew away. Coming up with him again, who halted all the time

I sought my staff, I asked once more "Who he was?" He answered, "The Laird

of Coul." I enquired, "If he was the Laird of Coul, what brought him

hither?" and "What was his business with me?"

_Coul_--The reason of my waiting on you is that I know you are disposed to

do for me a thing which none of your brethren in Nithsdale will so much as

attempt, though it serve to ever so good purposes. I told him I would

never refuse to do a thing to serve a good purpose, if I thought I was

obliged to do it as my duty. He answered, since I had undertaken what he

found few in Nithsdale would, for he had tried some upon that subject, who

were more obliged to him than ever I was, or to any person living: I drew

my horse, and halted in surprise, asking what I had undertaken?

_Ogilvie_--Pray, Coul, who informed you that I talked at that rate?

_Coul_--You must know that we are acquainted with many things that the

living know nothing about. These things you did say, and much more to that

purpose; and all that I want is that you fulfil your promise and deliver

my commissions to my loving wife.

_Ogilvie_--'Tis a pity, Coul, that you who know so many things, should not

know the difference between an absolute and a conditional promise.

But did I ever say that if you would come to Innerwick and employ me that

I would go all the way to Dumfries upon that errand? That is what never so

much as once entered into my thought.

_Coul_--What was in your thought I do not pretend to know, but I can

depend upon my information that these were your words; but I see you are

in some disorder; I will wait on you again, when you have more presence of

mind.

By the time we were got to James Dickson's inclosure below the churchyard,

and while I was collecting in my mind whether ever I had spoken these

words he alleged, he broke from me through the churchyard with greater

violence than ever any man on horseback is capable of, and with such a

singing and buzzing noise as put me in greater disorder than I was all the

time I was with him. I came to my house, and my wife observed something

more than ordinary paleness in my countenance, and would allege that

something ailed me. I called for a dram and told her I was a little

uneasy. After I found myself a little eased and refreshed, I retired to my

closet to meditate on this the most astonishing adventure of my whole

life.

THE SECOND CONFERENCE.

Upon the 5th of March, 1722. Being at Blarehead baptising the shepherd's

child, I came off at sunsetting, or a very little after. Near Will.

White's march the Laird of Coul came up with me on horseback as formerly,

and, after his first salutation, bid me not be afraid, for he would do me

no harm. I told him I was not in the least afraid, in the name of God and

of Christ my Saviour, that he would do the least harm to me; for I knew

that He in whom I trusted was stronger than all them put together, and if

any of them should attempt even to do the horse I rode upon harm, as you

have done to Dr Menzies' man,[48] if it be true that is said, and

generally believed about Dumfries, I have free access to complain to my

Lord and Master, to the lash of whose resentment you are as much liable

now as before.

_Coul_--You need not multiply words upon that head, for you are as safe

with me and safer, if safer can be, than when I was alive.

I said--Well then, Coul, let me have a peaceable and easy conversation

with you for the time we ride together, and give me some information about

the affairs of the other world, for no man inclines to lose his time in

conversing with the dead without having a prospect of hearing and learning

something that may be useful.

_Coul_--Well, sir, I will satisfy you as far as I think it proper and

convenient. Let me know what information you want from me.

_Ogilvie_--Well, then, what sort of body is it that you appear in, and

what sort of a horse is it that you ride on that appears so full of

mettle?