Witchcraft and Superstitious Record

Witchcraft and
Superstitious Record

IN THE

South-Western District of Scotland

BY
J. MAXWELL WOOD, M.B.
Author of “Smuggling in the Solway and
Around the Galloway Sea-board”
Editor of “The Gallovidian,” 1900-1911

Illustrated from Special Drawings by
John Copland, Esq., Dundrenna

Dumfries: J. Maxwell & Son
1911

“For she’s gathered witch dew in the Kells kirkyard,
In the mirk how of the moon,
And fed hersel’ wi’ th’ wild witch milk
With a red-hot burning spoon.”
—M‘Lehan.

To

Alison Jean Maxwell Wood

A “witch” of my most intimate acquaintance

PREFACE.

Throughout Dumfriesshire and Galloway remnants of old-world customs still linger, suggesting a remoter time, when superstitious practice and belief held all-important sway in the daily round and task of the people.

In gathering together the available material bearing upon such matters, more particularly in the direction of witchcraft, fairy-lore, death warnings, funeral ceremony and ghost story, the author trusts that by recording the results of his gleanings much as they have been received, and without at all attempting to subject them to higher analysis or criticism, a truer aspect and reflection of the influence of superstition upon the social life of those older days, may be all the more adequately presented.

112 George Street, Edinburgh,
August 9th, 1911.

CONTENTS.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

Witchcraft and Superstitious Record

IN THE

South-western District of Scotland.

CHAPTER I.

Traditional Witchcraft Described.

“When out the hellish legion sallied.”
—Tam o’ Shanter.

n the far-off days, when Superstition, in close association with the “evil sister” of Ignorance, walked abroad in the land, the south-western district of Scotland shared very largely in the beliefs and terrors embraced under the general descriptive term of witchcraft. Active interference in the routine of daily life on the part of the Prince of Darkness and his agencies was fully believed in. The midnight ride, the power of conversion into animal semblance and form, mystic rite and incantation, spells and cantrips, as well as the presence on earth of the Devil himself, who generally appeared in some alluring form—all had a firmly-established place in the superstitious and impressionable minds of the people who dwelt in the land of those darker days.

In approaching the whole matter for descriptive purposes, the traditional, or as it may perhaps be fittingly termed, the “ideal” form of witchcraft, falls naturally first to be considered, and here the existence of a secret society or unholy order of witches and warlocks meeting together at certain appointed times, figures as an outstanding feature, qualification to belong to which, confessed rare powers of affinity with the powers of evil and darkness. The more these witches and warlocks were feared in their ordinary guise as human mortals by the country-side or district to which they belonged, the higher the rank accorded to them in secret conclave, and the special notoriety of having been branded or “scored,” at the hands of an angry populace, with the sign of the cross on the forehead, carried with it special recognition of itself. Reputed gatherings or witch-festivals were celebrated periodically, the most important and outstanding taking place at Hallowmass, and such eerie places of meeting as the lonely ruins of Sweetheart Abbey and Caerlaverock Castle, were the appropriate scenes of their midnight rites and revels; but most of all in this south-western district was it to the rising slope of Locharbriggs Hill, not many miles from Dumfries, that the “hellish legion” repaired.

There is a remnant extant of an old song called the “Witches’ Gathering,” that with quaint and mystic indication tells of the preliminary signals and signs, announcing that a midnight re-union or “Hallowmass rade” as it was aptly termed, had been arranged and appointed:—

“When the gray howlet has three times hoo’d,
When the grimy cat has three times mewed,
When the tod has yowled three times i’ the wode,
At the red moon cowering ahin the cl’ud;
When the stars ha’e cruppen’ deep i’ the drift,
Lest cantrips had pyked them out o’ the lift,
Up horsies a’ but mair adowe,
Ryde, ryde for Locher-briggs-knowe!”

On such a night the very elements themselves seemed in sympathy. The wind rose, gust following gust, in angry and ever-increasing intensity, till it hurled itself in angry blasts that levelled hay-rick and grain-stack, and tore the thatched roof from homestead and cot, where the frightened dwellers huddled and crept together in terror. Over and with higher note than the blast itself, high-pitched eldritch laughter, fleeting and mocking, skirled and shrieked through the air. Then a lull, with a stillness more terrifying than even the wild force of the angry blast, only to be almost immediately broken with a crash of ear-splitting thunder, and the flash and the glare of forked and jagged flame, lighting up the unhallowed pathway of the “witches’ ride.”

“The Witches’ Ride.”

Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.

The journey itself, or rather the mode of progression in passing to the “witch gathering,” was itself steeped in “diabolerie” of varying degree. The simple broomstick served the more ordinary witch for a steed. Another vehicle was the chariot of “rag-wort” or ragweed, “harnessed to the wind;” for sisters of higher rank, broomsticks specially shod with the bones of murdered men, became high mettled and most spirited steeds; but the possession of a bridle, the leather of which was made from the skin of an unbaptised infant, and the iron bits forged at the “smithy” of the Evil One himself, gave to its possessor the power of most potent spell. Only let a witch shake this instrument of Satan over any living thing, man or beast, and at once it was transformed into an active witch steed in the form generally of a gray horse, with the full knowledge and resentment that a spell had been wrought, to compass this ignoble use. This was familiarly known and described as being “ridden post by a witch.”

No better picture was ever drawn of the wild witch diabolerie and abandon than in “Tam o’ Shanter,” but it may be claimed for Galloway that in the possession of the powerful poem of “Maggie o’ the Moss,” Ayrshire is followed very closely, as the following quotation bearing upon this particular point brings out:—

“But Maggie had that nicht to gang
Through regions dreary, dark, and lang,
To hold her orgies.
······
Then cross his haunches striding o’er,
She gave him the command to soar:
At first poor Simon, sweir to yield,
Held hard and fast the frosty field;
His body now earth’s surface spurn’d,
He seem’d like gravitation turned;
His heels went bickering in the air,
He held till he could haud nae mair,
Till first wi’ ae han’, syne the tither,
He lost his haud o’t a’ thegither;
And mounted up in gallant style,
Right perpendicular for a mile.
······
For brawly ken’d she how to ride,
And stick richt close to Simon’s hide;
For aft had Maggie on a cat
Across the German Ocean sat;
And wi’ aul’ Nick and a’ his kennel,
Had often crossed the British Channel,
And mony a nicht wi’ them had gone
To Brussels, Paris, or Toulon;
And mony a stormy Hallowe’en
Had Maggie danced on Calais Green!”

Like a swarm of bees in full flight they passed, all astride of something, be it rag-wort, broomstick, kail-runt, hare, cat, or domestic fowl, or even as indicated riding post on a human steed.

Assembled at the Dumfriesshire or Galloway “Brocken,” tribute to Satan, who presided in person, had to be paid for the privilege of exercising their unholy licence over their several districts and neighbourhoods. This took the form of unchristened “Kain Bairns,” the witches’ own by preference, but failing this, the stolen offspring of women of their own particular neighbourhood.

The rite of baptismal entry, which all novitiates had to undergo, was also a regular part of the weird proceedings of this witches’ Sabbath.

A magic circle was drawn round the top of the meeting mound, across which none but the initiated and those about to be initiated, dare pass. In the centre of this circle a fire emitting a thick, dense, sulphurous smoke sprang up, round which the assembled company of witches and warlocks danced with joined hands and wild abandon. Into the charmed circle the converts, naked and terror-stricken, were brought and dragged to the fire, which now sent forth even thicker clouds as if in a measure to screen the secrecy of the rites even from those participating, and scream after scream arose as their naked bodies were stamped with the hellish sign-manual of the order. A powerful soothing ointment was, however, immediately poured on the raw wounds, giving instant relief and almost effacement to the ordinary eye, the well-concealed cicatrix becoming the “witch-mark.” The grim nature of the ordeal now gave place to proceedings more in keeping with a festival, and dancing of the “better the worse” order and general hilarity and high revelry followed, the Prince of Darkness joining in the dance, giving expert exhibitions with favoured partners.

Next in importance to Satan himself at these “Walpurgis” night festivals at Locharbriggs tryst, was the celebrated witch “Gyre Carline,” who possessed a wand of great creative and destructive power. It is told how in the days when Lochar Moss was an open arm of the Solway Firth, an extra large tide swept up and washed away several of the witch steeds from the Locharbrigg hill. This so enraged the “Gyre Carline” that over the unruly waters she waved her magic wand, and what was “once a moss and then a sea” became “again a moss and aye will be.” At other meetings of less consequence the more important carlines of different districts met together, when schemes of persecution and revenge were evolved, and where philtres and charms were brewed and concocted for distribution amongst their inferior sisters whose office it was to give them effect. A concoction of virulent power was in the form of a bannock or cake, better known as the “witch cake,” whose uncannie preparation and potency has been so quaintly described in verse by Allan Cunningham:—

The Witch Cake.

“I saw yestreen, I saw yestreen,
Little wis ye what I saw yestreen,
The black cat pyked out the gray ane’s een
At the hip o’ the hemlock knowe yestreen.
Wi’ her tail i’ her teeth, she whomel’d roun’,
Wi’ her tail i’ her teeth, she whomel’d roun’,
Till a braw star drapt frae the lift aboon,
An’ she keppit it e’er it wan to the grun.
She hynt them a’ in her mou’ an’ chowed,
She hynt them a’ in her mou’ an’ chowed,
She drabbled them owre wi’ a black tade’s blude,
An’ baked a bannock an’ ca’d it gude!
She haurned it weel wi’ ae blink o’ the moon,
She haurned it weel wi’ ae blink o’ the moon,
An withre-shines thrice she whorled it roun’,
There’s some sall skirl ere ye be done.
Some lass maun gae wi’ a kilted sark,
Some priest maun preach in a thackless kirk,
Thread maun be spun for a dead man’s sark,
A’ maun be done e’er the sang o’ the lark.
Tell me what ye saw yestreen,
Tell me what ye saw yestreen,
There’s yin may gaur thee sich an’ green,
For telling what ye saw yestreen.”

At such minor meetings also, effigies were moulded in clay of those who had offended, which pierced with pins conveyed serious bodily injuries and disorder in their victims corresponding to the pin punctures. Two of these carlines dispensing the “black art” in the respective parishes of Caerlaverock and Newabbey were in the habit of meeting with each other for such purpose, but the holy men of Sweetheart Abbey overcame their wicked designs by earnest prayers, so much so that their meetings on the solid earth were rendered futile, and thus thwarted, their intercourse had to take place on the water.

Of this the following tale from “Cromek,” as reputed to be told by an eye-witness, is descriptive:—

“I gaed out ae fine summer night to haud my halve at the Pow fit. It was twal’ o’clock an’ a’ was lowne; the moon had just gotten up—ye mought a gathered preens. I heard something firsle like silk—I glowered roun’ an’ lake! what saw I but a bonnie boat, wi’ a nob o’ gowd, and sails like new-coined siller. It was only but a wee bittie frae me. I mought amaist touch’t it. ‘Gude speed ye gif ye gang for guid,’ quoth I, ‘for I dreed our auld carline was casting some o’ her pranks.’ Another cunning boat cam’ off frae Caerla’rick to meet it. Thae twa bade a stricken hour thegither sidie for sidie. ‘Haith,’ quoth I, ‘the deil’s grit wi’ some!’ sae I crap down amang some lang cowes till Luckie cam’ back. The boat played bowte again the bank, an out lowpes Kimmer, wi’ a pyked naig’s head i’ her han’. ‘Lord be about us!’ quo’ I, for she cam’ straught for me. She howked up a green turf, covered her bane, an’ gaed her wa’s. When I thought her hame, up I got and pou’d up the bane and haed it. I was fleyed to gae back for twa or three nights, lest the deil’s minnie should wyte me for her uncannie boat and lair me ’mang the sludge, or maybe do waur. I gaed back howsever, and on that night o’ the moon wha comes to me but Kimmer. ‘Rabbin,’ quo’ she, ‘fand ye are auld bane amang the cowes?’ ‘’Deed no, it may be gowd for me,’ quo’ I. ‘Weel, weel,’ quo’ she, ‘I’ll byde and help ye hame wi’ your fish.’ God’s be me help, nought grippit I but tades and paddocks! ‘Satan, thy nieve’s here,’ quo’ I. ‘Ken ye’ (quo’ I) ‘o’ yon new cheese our wyfe took but frae the chessel yestreen? I’m gaun to send’t t’ ye i’ the morning, ye’re a gude neebor to me: an’ hear’st thou me? There’s a bit auld bane whomeled aneath thae cowes; I kent nae it was thine.’ Kimmer drew’t out. ‘Ay, ay, it’s my auld bane; weel speed ye.’ I’ the very first pow I got sic a louthe o’ fish that I carried ’till me back cracked again.”[(1)]

A celebrated witch connected with Wigtownshire was Maggie Osborne.

“And perish’d mony a bonny boat.”—Tam o’ Shanter.

Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.

“On the wild moorland between the marches of Carrick and the valley of the Luce tracks are pointed out, on which the heather will not grow, as ‘Maggie’s gate to Gallowa’’; the sod having been so deeply burned by her tread, or that of her weird companion. Among the misdemeanours imputed to her, in aggravation of the charge for which she was cruelly condemned, was that of having impiously partaken of the communion at the Moor Kirk of Luce. She accepted the bread at the minister’s hands, but a sharp-eyed office-bearer (long after) swore that he had detected her spitting out the wafer at the church-door, which he clearly saw swallowed by the devil, who had waited for her outside in the shape of a toad. Again it was asserted that when passing from Barr to Glenluce by the ‘Nick o’ the Balloch’ she encountered a funeral procession, and to pass unseen she changed herself into a beetle; but before she could creep out of the way, a shepherd in the party unwittingly set his foot upon her, and would have crushed her outright had not a rut partly protected her. Much frightened and hurt she vowed vengeance; but the moor-man being a pious man, for long her arts were of no avail against him. One night however, detained late by a storm, he sat down hurriedly to supper, having forgotten to say grace. Her incantations then had power. A wreath of snow was collected and hurled from the hill above on the devoted cabin, and the shepherd, his wife, and family of ten were smothered in the avalanche.”[(2)]

In Glenluce a story is handed down which brings out that it was not necessarily the dweller in the humble cot on whom the mantle of witchcraft fell, but that the high-bred dames of the “Hall” did also at times dabble in the practice.

“A labouring man’s wife, a sensible, decent woman, having been detained late from home, was returning about the witching hour; and at a spot known as the ‘Clay Slap’ she met face to face a troop of females, as to whose leader, being cloven-footed, she could not be mistaken. Her consternation was the greater, as one by one she recognised them all, and among them the ladies of the manor. They stopped her, and in her terror she appealed to one of them by name. Enraged at being known, the party declared that she must die. She pleaded for mercy, and they agreed to spare her life on her taking an awful oath that she would never reveal the names of any as long as they lived.

“Fear prevented her from breaking her pledge, but as one by one the dames paid the debt of nature, she would mysteriously exclaim ‘There’s anither of the gang gone!’ She outlived them all, and then divulged the secret, adding that on that dreadful night, after getting to her bed, she lay entranced in an agony as if she had been roasting between two fires.”[(3)]

The name of Michael Scott of Balwearie (Fife), scholar and alchemist, who lived in the thirteenth century, is traditionally associated with the Abbey of Glenluce. Regarded by the peasantry as a warlock, he was supposed to be here buried with his magic books, and there is a story extant to the effect that a man in the district who daringly disinterred his skeleton, found it in a sitting position confronting him, and that the sight drove him stark mad.

Whilst in the neighbourhood of Glenluce, “Michael the Warlock” is credited with having exercised strong discipline over the witches of the district. One task he assigned them to keep them from more doubtful work, was to spin ropes from sea-sand, and it is yet said that some of the rope fragments may be seen to this day near Ringdoo Point, near the mouth of the Luce, when laid bare by wind and tide. Another equally profitless and endless task set for the same purpose of keeping them from unsanctioned, mischievous deeds, was the threshing of barley chaff.

There is a quaint reference in MacTaggart’s Gallovidian Encyclopædia to the “Library of Michael Scott.” He says, “One of these (vaults) at the Auld Abbey of Glenluce contains the famous library of Michael Scott, the Warlock. Here are thousands of old witch songs and incantations, books of the ‘Black Art,’ and ‘Necromancy,’ ‘Philosophy of the Devil,’ ‘Satan’s Almanacks,’ ‘The Fire Spangs of Faustus,’ ‘The Soothsayers’ Creed,’ ‘The Witch Chronicle,’ and the ‘Black Clud’s Wyme laid open,’ with many more valuable volumes.”

It may be noted in passing that the Abbey of Holm-Cultram, in Cumberland, has also been associated as the burial-place of the Wizard Michael; but it is with Melrose Abbey, as depicted by Sir Walter Scott in the “Lay of the Last Minstrel,” that the most cherished associations linger, even if only in the romance of poetry:—

“With beating heart to the task he went;
His sinewy frame o’er the grave-stone bent;
With bar of iron heaved amain,
Till the toil-drops fell from his brows like rain;
It was by dint of passing strength,
That he moved the massy stone at length.”
·······
“Before their eyes the Wizard lay,
As if he had not been dead a day.”

The religious house of Tongland may be said to have some slight connection here, for in Dunbar’s poem of “The Dream of the Abbot of Tungland” (the “frenziet” Friar) there is reference to a witch—“Janet the widow, on ane besome rydand.”

“Bess o’ Borgue” and “Glencairn Kate” were two notorious south-country witches. They are included in the descriptive witch-poem of “Maggie o’ the Moss,” already referred to.

About the middle of the eighteenth century there was a famous witch that lived at Hannayston, in the Kells, who was credited with wonderful powers, and many stories of her exploits are still current. Some say her name was Nicholas Grier, others that it was Girzie M‘Clegg, but it matters little which now. Some of Lucky’s favourite pastimes were, drowning anyone she had a spite at by sinking a caup in the yill-boat in her kitchen; sucking cows in the shape of a hare; frightening people at night by appearing to them like a little naked boy; walking in the resemblance of a cat on its hind legs; conversing with travellers on the road; and sending young people into declines.[(4)]

The old Church of Dalry has a legend of witch-festival surrounding it, which gives it a distinction something akin to the better-known tradition of Alloway Kirk. The following version is taken from Harper’s Rambles:—

“Adam Forester, proprietor of Knocksheen, had been detained one evening until near midnight in the public-house at Dalry. On the way home he had to pass the church, and being perhaps like the famous Tam o’ Shanter, through indulging in inspiring bold John Barleycorn, ready to defy all dangers in the shape of goblin and spirit, he very soon had his mettle tested. On reaching the church the windows ‘seemed in a bleeze,’ and from within loud bursts of mirth and revelry reached the ears of the astonished laird. Nothing daunted however, he dismounted, and securing his horse to a tree near the church-yard wall, he peered in at the window, and to his astonishment, amongst those engaged in the ‘dance o’ witches’ were several old women of his acquaintance, amongst whom was the landlady of the public-house where he had spent the greater part of the evening, and which he had just left. Horrified with such desecration of the sacred edifice, and unable longer to restrain his displeasure, Forester shouted, ‘Ho! ho! Lucky, ye’ll no deny this the morn!’ knocking at the same instant against the window frame with his whip. In a moment the lights were extinguished, and the witches with loud yells rushed out of the church after him; but the laird, having gained his horse, went off at a furious gallop for the ford on the Ken, his pursuers following hard upon him, their frantic and hideous shouts striking terror to his heart. As they could not cross the running stream, they flew to the Brig o’ Ken, six miles distant, where they crossed and overtook Adam on Waterside Hill, tearing all the hair out of the horse’s tail, and Lucky getting her black hand on the horse’s hip. She left its impression there for life. The laird, finding he could proceed no further, dismounted and was only saved from being torn to pieces by describing a circle in God’s name round himself and horse. This charm proved effectual. The fury of the mysterious band was arrested, and at daybreak he rode home to his residence.”

The story is still current in the Glenkens, and what is supposed to be the circle drawn by the laird is pointed out on Waterside Hill.

In concluding the account of “traditional witchcraft,” there yet falls to be mentioned one outstanding form in which beautiful and seductive female shapes were assumed to tempt through the flesh, the destruction of soul and body. There is no better reference to this than in the local traditional tale of the “Laird of Logan” of Allan Cunningham, where the struggle between the powers of darkness and those of good contend, not without a certain dignity of purpose, for the mastery. The following is the dramatic denouement:—

“He took a sword from the wall, and described a circle, in the centre of which he stood himself. Over the line drawn with an instrument on which the name of God is written, nought unholy can pass. ‘Master, stand beside me, and bear ye the sword.’ He next filled a cup with water, and said, ‘Emblem of purity, and resembling God, for He is pure, as nought unholy can pass over thee whilst thou runnest in thy native fountain, neither can ought unholy abide thy touch, thus consecrated—as thou art the emblem of God, go and do His good work. Amen.’ So saying he turned suddenly round and dashed the cupful of water in the face and bosom of the young lady—fell on his knees and bowed his head in prayer. She uttered scream upon scream; her complexion changed; her long locks twined and writhed like serpents; the flesh seemed to shrivel on her body; and the light shone in her eyes which the Master trembled to look upon. She tried to pass the circle towards him but could not. A burning flame seemed to encompass and consume her; and as she dissolved away he heard a voice saying, ‘But for that subtle priest, thou hadst supped with me in hell.’”

CHAPTER II.

Witch Narrative.

“The best kye in the byre gaed yell;
Some died, some couldna raise themsel’;
In short, ilk’ beast the farmer had
Died—sicken’d—rotted—or gaed mad!”
—Maggie o’ the Moss.

he witchcraft however, which had a special abiding-place in rural districts, was most usually associated with the presence in their midst of someone to whom it was supposed the devil had bequeathed the doubtful possession of the “evil eye,” a possession which at all times was deemed a certain means of bringing about supernatural ill. Other suspected workers of subtle cantrips whom the finger of suspicion was ready to point to were old creatures, not uncommonly poor and eccentric, perhaps even deformed or with some peculiarity, but generally genuinely blameless, or in some instances foolishly seeking notoriety in the pretended possession of witch-power.

The spells and cantrips alleged to be cast by these agencies were usually such as brought harmful effect upon human being or farm stock, such supposed incidence of supernatural interference being accepted without question. A natural consequence followed in misdirected measures of protection and retaliation. The whole atmosphere of domestic life became charged with suspicious attitude towards one another, and when illness overtook either human being or four-footed beast, or some such minor happening as a heated stack, or a cow failing to yield milk, took place, the presence of the “Black Art” was proclaimed in their midst, and too often was accidental circumstance followed by unjust cruelty and persecution, sanctioned and practised, as we shall see later, by the powers of the State and Church.

Many stories of such form of witchcraft have been handed down and still form a not inconsiderable part of the floating tradition pertaining to the south-western district of Dumfries and Galloway.

The following traditions, not hitherto recorded, are from western Galloway, and may be regarded as consequent to the influence of the “evil eye”:—

“There was an old woman who went about Kirkmaiden begging, or what old people call ‘thigging,’ and one day in the course of her wanderings she came to a place called ‘The Clash’ and asked for butter, which she seemed to particularly want. As luck would have it, the farm folks had only newly put the milk into the churn, and had no butter in the house until it was churned. In passing, it may be noticed that the churn was always put out of sight when this old woman appeared, in case she might ‘witch’ it. As they had no butter they offered her both meal and a piece of meat, but butter she would have, so she went away, muttering ‘that maybe she would fen’ without it,’ and more talk to the same purpose. The farmer met her on the way from the house and heard her mutterings. On arriving at his house he asked what they had done to the old woman to put her in such a temper, and was told the circumstances. He had two young horses in a field beside the house, and going out of the house into the field he found one of them rolling on the ground seemingly in great pain. Of course he jumped to the conclusion that this was some of the witch’s cantrips, and after trying to get it to rise, bethought himself of going after her and bringing her back to get her to lift the spell. Following the old woman, who was very lame, he soon overtook her and tried to coax her to return to see if she could tell him what was wrong. She demurred at first, but he pressed her, and at last she said, that seeing he was so anxious she would go back. When they arrived the animal was still suffering great pain, and she proceeded to walk round it some few times always muttering to herself, and at last cried, ‘Whish! get up,’ striking the horse; ‘there’s naething wrang wi’ ye.’ The horse at once got up and commenced feeding, apparently nothing the matter with it.”[(5)]

“At the Dribblings, on what is now the farm of Low Curghie (Kirkmaiden), lived a cottar who was the owner of two cows. One morning on going to the byre one of the cows was on the ground and unable to rise. The people did not know what to do, but as luck would have it, the same old woman that cured the horse at The Clash happened to come in, and was informed of the trouble, and was asked if she could do anything, and was promised a piece of butter for her trouble. She went and looked at the cow, and said someone with an ‘ill e’e had overlooked it,’ i.e., witched it, and proceeded to walk round it two or three times, talking to herself, and then gave it a tap with her stick and told the animal to get up, she was all right now. The cow immediately got to her feet and commenced feeding.”[(6)]

“At a farm-house in the vicinity of Logan an old woman, a reputed witch, was in the habit of receiving the greater part of her sustenance from the farmer and his wife. The farmer began to get tired of this sorning, and one day took his courage in both hands and turned the witch at the gate. The old woman of course was sorely displeased, and told him that he would soon have plenty of ‘beef,’ and in the course of a day or two many of his cattle had taken the muir-ill. Next time the old woman wanted to go to the house she was not hindered. She got her usual supply, and thereafter not another beast took the disease.”[(7)]

It is related of the same old woman that once she wanted some favour off the factor on Logan, and one day as he rode past her dwelling she hailed him. Not caring to be troubled with her he made the excuse that his horse would not stand as it was young and very restive; but she said she would soon make it stand, and by some spell so terrified the animal that it stood trembling while the sweat was running over its hooves.

“The farm of the Grennan, in the Rhinns, had been taken or was reported to have been taken over the sitting tenant’s head; and the new tenants, when they took possession, were regarded with general disfavour. The farm good-wife was a bustling, energetic woman, with some pretensions as to good looks, and was always extremely busy. One day an old-fashioned diminutive woman knocked at the door and asked for a wee pickle meal. The good-wife answered in an off-hand manner that she had no meal for her, and told her to ‘tak’ the gait.’ The old woman looked at her steadily for a short time, and then said, ‘My good woman, you are strong and healthy just now, but strong and weel as ye are, that can sune be altered, and big as ye are in yer way, the hearse is no’ bigget that will tak’ ye to the kirkyaird, and a dung-cairt will ha’e to ser’ ye.’ In less than a year the gude-wife died, and the hearse broke down at the road-end leading to the farm, and could come no further, and as a matter of fact a farm-cart had to be employed to carry the corpse to the churchyard.”[(8)]

The influence of the “evil eye” has been somewhat crudely recorded in verse under the heading of “Galloway Traditions: The Blink o’ an Ill E’e,” in the Galloway Register for 1832, an almost forgotten periodical published at Stranraer. It is here set forth, as it minutely expresses and brings out, though in homely fashion, how belief in witchcraft and its powers was intimately bound up with the every-day conditions of the life of the times:—

“He thrave for a while,
And a prettier bairn was’na seen in a mile;
Lang ere Beltane, however, he was sairly backgane
And shilped to naething but mere skin and bane.
The mither grieved sair—thought her Sandy wad die—
Folk a’ said he had got a blink o’ an ill e’e,
And the health o’ the baby wad bravely in time turn
If he had the blessing o’ auld Luckie Lymeburn.
Now the mither min’d weel, that on ae Friday morn
Auld Luckie gaed past, but nae word did she say,
And the bairn had soon after begun to decay.
Ane an’ a’ then agreed that the child wadna mend, or
Do one mair guid till auld Luckie they’d send for;
Luckie Lymeburn is sent for, and soon there appears
A haggart wee grannnum sair bent down in years,
Whase e’en, wild demeanour, every appearance was sic,
That you’d easily hae guess’d that she dealt wi’ Auld Nick.
Auld Luckie had lang kept the country in dread—
Nae bairn was unweil, nor beast suddenly dead,
Nae time had the horses stood up in the plough,
Nor when drying the malt had the kiln tain alow,
Nae roof o’ a byre fa’en down in the night,
Nor storm at the fishing, the boatmen affright,
But ’twas aye Luckie Lymeburn that bare a’ the blame o’t,
While Luckie took pride and rejoiced at the name o’t.
Thro’ dread that her glamour might harm o’ their gear,
O’ ought in the house they aye ga’e her a share,
And ilk dame through the land was in terror o’ Luckie,
From the point of Kirkcolm to her ain Carrick-mickie.
Ere Sandy is mentioned the mither takes care
To sooth the auld dame and to speak her right fair;
Anon, then, she tells how her boy’s lang been ill,
And a’ the folk say she’s a hantle o’ skill—
Begs she’ll look at the bairn and see what’s the matter,
And when neist at the mill she winna forget her.
Auld Granny saw well thro’ the mither’s contrivance,
So she looks on the bairn and wishes him thrivance—
Says he’ll soon come about and be healthy and gay,
If dipt at the Co’[1] the first Sunday o’ May.
The boy’s health came round, as auld Luckie had said,
But ere Sandy came round Luckie Lymeburn was dead.
The laws against witches were now very stric’,
And Luckie’s accused that she dealt wi’ Auld Nick—
That lately a storm she had raised on the coast,
In which many braw fishing boats had been lost;
Last winter that she and her conjuring ban’
Had smoor’d a’ the sheep on the fells o’ Dunman
But chief, that in concert wi’ Luckie Agnew,
She had sunk, off the Mull, a fine ship with her crew.
The ship had been bound for Hibernia’s main,
And smoothly was gliding o’er the watery plain
With the wind in her rear, when a furious blast,
While off the Mull head, sudden rose from the west,
And lays to the breeze the gallant ship’s side,
And round and round whirls her in th’ eddy o’ th’ tide.
Meantime the old hags, on the hill, are in view,
And boiling their caldron, or winding their clue,
New charms still they try, but they try them in vain:
The seamen still strove, nor their purpose could gain,
The waves are still threat’ning the ship to o’erwhelm;
The crew, one by one, have relinquished the helm.
Long, long the crew labour’d the vessel to stay,
Nor rudder nor sail would the vessel obey,
When forth steps a tar, a regardless old sinner,
And swore he’d her steer though the devil were in her;
When instant the weird-woman’s spells take effect,
She sinks ’mang the rocks, and soon’s floating a wreck—
For these, and some deeds of a similar kind
Were Luckies Agnew and Lymeburn arraigned.
Their trial comes on—full confession they make—
In the auld burgh o’ Wigton they’re burnt at the stake.”

The metamorphosis to brute-form on the part of the witch or warlock is one of the most persistent traditions concerning witchcraft. In the south-west country the favourite animal-form selected was that of the hare, very probably on account of its fleetness of foot. Of this the following are examples:—

“A young man from Kirkmaiden found work at a distance, and as means of travel were not so convenient as now, it was a number of years before he found opportunity to visit his native parish. At the end of some years he returned, however, about New-Year time, and taking down a gun that was in his mother’s house, remarked that he would go out to the Inshanks Moor and see if he could get a hare for the dinner on New-Year’s Day. His mother told him to be careful he was not caught poaching. He had not been long in the moor when a hare got up, at which he shot repeatedly, but apparently without effect. At last he came to the conclusion that the hare was one of the numerous Kirkmaiden witches, and thought he would try the effect of silver. The hare had observed him, and at once inquired if he would shoot his own mother? Much startled, he desisted and went home, took to his bed, and did not rise for five years, though he could take his food well enough, and apparently was in good enough health. He had no power to rise until his mother died, when his strength being most wonderfully restored, he left his bed, dressed himself and attended the funeral.”[(9)]

Another reputed witch lived near the Church of Kirkmaiden, and it is told by a woman of the neighbourhood how her grandmother lived beside her, and having occasion to go to the well in the gloaming one evening something gave a sound, not unlike the noise one makes when clapping mud with a spade, and immediately a hare hopped past her on the road, and went over the dyke into the garden. When she went round the end of the house her neighbour was climbing over the dyke, and the old woman firmly believed it was the witch she saw the moment before in the form of a hare, which had returned to human shape just before she saw her again.

In connection with the phenomenon of transformation to brute-form an interesting point must be accentuated, and that is that an animal bewitched or about to be sacrificed by witchcraft was believed by some subtle power to gain and absorb to itself some considerable part of the spirit or entity of the witch or warlock working the spell, which not uncommonly led to detection of the spell-worker. An example of this may also be quoted:—

“A farmer of Galloway, coming to a new farm with a fine and healthy stock, saw them die away one by one at stall and at stake. His last one was lying sprawling almost in death, when a fellow-farmer got him to consider his stock as bewitched and attempt its relief accordingly. He placed a pile of dried wood round his cow, setting it on fire. The flame began to catch hold of the victim, and its outer parts to consume, when a man, reputed to be a warlock, came flying over the fields, yelling horribly and loudly, conjuring the farmer to slake the fire. ‘Kep skaith wha brings’t,’ exclaimed the farmer, heaping on more fuel. He tore his clothes in distraction, for his body was beginning to fry with the burning of his spirit. The farmer, unwilling to drive even the devil to despair, made him swear peace to all that was or should be his, and then unloosed his imprisoned spirit by quenching the fire.”[(10)]

The counterpart of magical migration through the air has also its examples, for within the memory of people still living there was an old woman lived at Logan Mill, who whenever she had a mind to travel, got astride of the nearest dyke, and was at once conveyed to wherever she wished. At least it was said so.

Another reputed witch who dwelt in the neighbourhood of Port Logan was much troubled with shortness of breath, and was easily tired. When she found herself in this condition of exhaustion away from her home she was credited with entering the nearest field where horses and cattle were grazing, and mounting one, to “ride post” straight for home.

The following elegy, which has been preserved in the collection of poems known as the Nithsdale Minstrel, fully illustrates the dread in which the Kirkmaiden witches were held, and more particularly the relief experienced when death removed the baneful influence of “Meg Elson,” a witch of much repute:—

Meg Elson’s Elegy.

“Kirkmaiden dames may crously craw
And cock their nose fu’ canty,
For Maggy Elson’s now awa’,
That lately bragged sae vaunty
That she could kill each cow an’ ca’,
An’ make their milk fu’ scanty—
Since Death’s gi’en Maggy’s neck a thraw,
They’ll a’ hae butter plenty,
In lumps each day.
Ye fishermen, a’ roun’ the shore,
Huzza wi’ might and mettle,
Nae mair ye’ll furnish frae your store
A cod for Maggy’s kettle—
Nae mair ye’ll fear the clouds that lour,
Nor storms that roun’ you rattle,
Lest, conjured up by cantrip power,
They coup you wi’ a brattle
I’ the sea some day.
Ye ewes that bleat the knowes out o’er,
Ye kye that roam the valley,
Nae dread of Maggy’s magic glower
Need henceforth mair assail ye:
Nae horse nor mare, by Circean power,
Shall now turn up its belly,
For Death has lock’d Meg’s prison door,
And gi’en the keys to Kelly
To keep this day.”

Passing to the Machars of Galloway, a curious witch-story comes from Whithorn corresponding to and somewhat similar in trend to the first acts in the dramatic happenings of “Tam o’ Shanter,” and the story already told of Dalry Kirk:—

“Long ago there lived in Whithorn a tailor who was an elder of the Church, and who used to ‘whip the cat,’ that is, go to the country to ply his trade. Being once engaged at a farm-house, the farmer told him to bring his wife with him and spend an afternoon at the farm. The invitation was accepted, and on returning at night, the attention of the knight of the needle and his better-half was attracted to an old kiln, situated at the low end of the ‘Rotten Row,’ from which rays of light were emanating. This surprised the worthy couple, all the more as the old kiln had for long been in a state of disuse. Their curiosity being thus awakened, they approached to look through the chinks of the door, when to their astonishment they beheld a sight somewhat similar to that seen by ‘Tam o’ Shanter’ at ‘Alloway’s Auld Haunted Kirk.’ Among the dramatis personæ who should they recognise but the minister’s wife, whom they both knew well. She, along with a bevy of withered hags, was engaged in cantrips, being distinguished by a peculiar kind of garter which she wore. Next Sabbath the tailor elder demanded a meeting of the Kirk-Session; but the minister declared that the story was a monstrosity, as his wife had not been out of bed that night. Not being easily repressed, however, the tailor requested that the minister’s wife should be brought then and there before the Session. When she appeared it was found that she had on the identical garters she had worn on the night when she was seen by the triumphant tailor. This startling and overwhelming corroboration of the truth of the ‘fama’ quite nonplussed the minister, and as the story has it, before the next Sunday he and his lady were ‘owre the Borders an’ awa’.’”[(11)]

A Dalry story may now be quoted which is specially concerned with the actual evil workings of his Satanic Majesty himself:—

“The Rev. Mr Boyd, who was appointed minister of Dalry in 1690, after his return from Holland, whither he had fled during the persecution, and who died in 1741 in his 83rd year, had a daughter to whom the devil took a fancy. He once came to the manse in the form of a bumble-bee, but was driven away by a chance pious exclamation. Another time he arrived in the form of a handsome young gentleman, fascinated the damsel, induced her to play cards with him on a Sunday, and bore her off on a black horse. Fortunately the minister saw the occurrence, and also a cloven hoof hanging at the stirrup, and shouted to his daughter to come back for Christ’s sake, and the devil let her drop to the ground nothing the worse.”[(12)]

In connection with the parish of Kells it may be noted that a member of the old baronial family of Shaws of Craigenbay and Craigend, Sir Chesney Shaw, is reputed to have been strangled by a witch in the guise of a black cat. The deed took place in the Tower of Craigend.

The Carlin’s Cairn.

(By J. Copland.)

A prominent land-mark in this Dalry and Carsphairn district is the “Carlin’s Cairn,” which, from its name, might be taken to have some special link with the witchcraft of the district. It has however, a more patriotic origin, which is set forth in Barbour’s Unique Traditions:—

“This cairn is perched on the summit of the Kells Rhynns, and may be discerned at 15 miles distance to the south. Some say it was thrown together to commemorate the burning of a witch, others, that it was erected on the spot where an old female Covenanter was murdered by Grierson of Lag, and this last tradition stands somewhat countenanced by the well-known facts that Grierson was laird of Garryhorn and other lands in the neighbourhood of this ancient cairn, and that his party pursued and slaughtered some staunch Presbyterians in the environs of Loch Doon. Yet the foundation of the cairn can boast of a much older date than the persecutions under Charles the Second, for it was collected by the venerable old woman who at once was the protectress and hostess of King Robert the Bruce, ... and from the circumstances of the cairn being collected under the auspices of a woman, that cairn immediately bore, and for 500 years hath continued to bear the name of ‘Carlin’s Cairn.’”

Other place-names associated with witchcraft are the “Witch Rocks of Portpatrick,” where tradition tells that on these characteristic-looking pinnacles, the witches in their midnight flight rested for a little while, ere winging their further flight to Ireland.

In the neighbouring parish of Stoneykirk there occurs Barnamon (Barr-nam-ban) and Cairnmon (Cairn-nam-ban) which, being interpreted, may read—“the gap, or round hill, of the witches.”

The following well-recounted witch narrative was communicated to the Dumfries and Galloway Antiquarian Society to illustrate a point of superstitious custom. It has here a wider mission in accentuating bewitchment in angry retaliation, evil incantation overpowered by holy influence, and the breaking of witch-power by “scoring above the breath.”:—

“In the olden time, when Galloway was stocked with the black breed of cattle, there was a carle who had a score of cows, not one of which had a white hair on it; they were the pride of the owner, and the admiration of all who saw them. One day while they were being driven out, the carle’s dog worried the cat of an old woman who lived in a hut hard by, and though he had always treated her with great kindness, and expressed sorrow for what his dog had done, she cursed him and all his belongings. Afterwards, when the cows began to calve, instead of giving fine rich milk, as formerly, they only gave a thin watery ooze on which the calves dwined away to skin and bone. During this unfortunate state of affairs a pilgrim on his journey, probably to the shrine of St. Ninian, sought lodgings for the night. The wife of the carle, though rather unwilling to take in a stranger during the absence of her husband, who was on a journey, eventually granted his request. On her making excuse for the poverty of the milk she offered, when he tasted it he said the cows were bewitched, and for her kindness he would tell her what would break the spell, which was to put some ‘cowsherne’ into the mouths of the calves before they were allowed to suck. As the carle approached his house, when returning from his journey, he noticed a bright light in the hut of the old hag which had cursed him. Curiosity induced him to look in, when he saw a pot on the fire, into which she was stirring something and muttering incantations all the while till it boiled, when, instead of milk as she doubtless expected, nothing came up but ‘cowsherne.’ He told his wife what he had seen, and she told him what the pilgrim had told her to do, and which she had done, which left no doubt that it was the ungrateful old witch who had bewitched their cows. Next day, when she was expecting her usual dole, the carle’s wife caught hold of her before she had time to cast any cantrip, and scored her above the breath until she drew blood, with a crooked nail from a worn horse-shoe, which left her powerless to cast any further spells. The cows now gave as rich a yield of milk as formerly, and the custom then began, of putting ‘cowsherne’ into the mouths of newly born calves, was continued long after witchcraft had ceased to be a power in the land.”[(13)]

A Witch-brew and Incantation.

Sketch by J. Copland, Dundrennan.

“Toil and trouble,
Fire burn; and caldron bubble.”—Macbeth.

The following four examples of “witch narrative” are gathered from the southern district of Kirkcudbrightshire:—

“Many years ago there lived near Whinnieliggate, on a somewhat lonely part of the road which leads from Kirkcudbright to Dumfries, an old woman with the reputation of being a witch. She was feared to such an extent that her neighbours kept her meal-chest full, and furnished her with food, clothes, and all she required. An old residenter in Kelton Hill or Rhonehouse, now passed away, remembered her well, and has left a very minute description of her appearance. He told how she was of small spare build, wizened of figure and face, squinted outward with one eye, the eyes themselves being small, but of peculiar whitish green colour, her nose hooked and drooping over very ugly teeth. She swathed her straggling grey locks in a black napkin or handkerchief, wore grey drugget, and a saffron-tinted shawl with spots of black and green darned into the semblance of frogs, toads, spiders, and jackdaws, with a coiled adder or snake roughly sewn round the border. Her shoes or bauchles were home-made from the untanned hides of black Galloway calves, skins not difficult for her to get. The cottage in which she lived was as quaint as herself, both inside and out. A huge bed of orpine (stone crop) grew over one of its thatched sides, the thatch being half straw and half broom; at each end grew luxuriantly long wavering broom bushes, and a barberry[2] shrub, densely covered with fruit in its season. A row of hair ropes draped the lintel of the small windows at the front of the cottage, from which was suspended the whitened skulls of hares, and ravens, rooks or corbies. The interior was also garnished with dried kail-stocks, leg and arm bones, no doubt picked up in the churchyard, all arranged in the form of a star, and over her bed-head hung a roughly drawn circle of the signs of the zodiac. She was often to be seen wandering about the fields in moonlight nights with a gnarled old blackthorn stick with a ram’s horn head, and was altogether generally regarded as uncanny. The old man who thus describes her person and surroundings told of two occasions in which he suffered at her hands. He was at one time engaged with a farmer in the parish of Kelton, and one day he and a son of the farmer set out for the town of Kirkcudbright with two heavily laden carts of hay, the farmer in a jocular way calling after them as they left, ‘Noo Johnie, yer cairts are a’ fair and square the noo, and let’s see ye reach Kirkcudbright without scathe, for ye maun mind ye hae tae pass auld Jean on the wey. Dinna ye stop aboot her door or say ocht tae her, tae offend her. Gude kens hoo she may tak’ it.’ Johnie was of a very sceptical nature about such characters as Jean, and replied, ‘Man, Maister M‘C——, dae ye ken a wudna care the crack o’ a coo’s thumb gin a’ the wutches ooten the ill bit war on the road,’ and so they set out. When passing the cottage, sure enough, the old woman appeared at the door, and, as was her wont, had to ask several questions as to where cam’ they frae? and whar wur they gaun? who owned the hay and the horses? and so on. The lad, who was a bit of a ‘limb,’ recklessly asked her what the deil business it was of hers, and John said, ‘Aye, deed faith aye, boy! that’s just true. Come away.’ And so they lumbered away down through the woods by the Brocklock Burn, when suddenly a hare banged across the road, right under the foremost horse’s nose, crossed and recrossed several times, till both the horses became so restless and unmanageable that they backed and backed against the old hedge on the roadside, and in a few minutes both carts went over the brow into the wood, dragging the horses with them. The harness fortunately snapped in pieces, saving them from being strangled. Johnie and the boy were compelled to walk into the town for help, where they told the story of Jean’s malevolence. Johnie’s second adventure took place some years afterwards. On passing with a cart of potatoes to be shipped from Kirkcudbright to Liverpool by the old Fin M‘Coul Johnie refused to give Jean two or three potatoes for seed, with the result that his horse backed his cart right into the then almost unprotected harbour, and they were with great difficulty rescued.”[(14)]

“The parish of Twynholm in days gone by had its witch. ‘Old Meg’ (as the reputed witch was called by the neighbours) had for some years got her supply of butter from one of the farms quite close to the village of Twynholm, and the goodwife, to safeguard her very fine dairy of cows, always gave old Meg a small print, or pat, extra for luck. All went well until one day a merchant came to the farm seeking a large quantity of butter for the season, and offering such a good price that a bargain was at once struck. The farmer’s wife was obliged to tell her small customers, Meg among the number, that she ‘would not be able tae gie them ony mair butter as she had a freen in the trade who would need all she could spare, and more if she had it.’ Meg was the only one to murmur at the information, and did so in no unmistakable terms. ‘Aye, woman,’ said she, ‘y’er getting far ower prood and big tae ser’ a puir bodie. Folk sood na’ seek tae haud their heeds ower high ower puir folk. There’s aye a doonfa’ tae sic pridefu’ weys.’ ‘Weel, Margaret,’ said the farmer’s wife, ‘ye’re no a richt-thinkin’, weel-mindet buddy or ye wudna turn on me the wey yer daen efter a’ my kindness tae ye; sae I wad juist be as weel pleased if ye’d pass my door and try somebody else tae gie ye mair than I hae ony guid wull tae gie ye.’ Meg left in great anger, and before a week was ended three of the farmer’s cows died, and one broke its leg.”[(15)]

“Away back in the days when the steampacket and railway were almost unknown along the south or Solway shore of Scotland large numbers of sailing craft plied between ports and creeks along the Scottish, Irish, and English coasts, every little port at all safe for landing being the busy scene of arrival and departure, and the discharge of cargo with almost every tide. A small group of houses usually marked these little havens, generally made up of an inn, a few fishermen’s cottages, huts, and sail-lofts. On the Rerwick, or Monkland shore as it was then called, four or five of these little hamlets stood, some on the actual shore, others a short way inland. The incident which follows was founded upon the visit of three young sailors, who had for a day or two been living pretty freely, in a clachan about two miles from where their craft, a handy topsail schooner, lay at Burnfoot. On the rough moor road-side which led down from the clachan to the coast there lived in a small shieling a middle-aged woman, recognised by most of her neighbours and by seafaring men coming to these parts as an unscrupulous and rather vindictive old woman, supposed to be a witch.

The three sailors had to pass this cottage on their way down to join their ship, and before setting out decided to go right past her home rather than take a round-about way to avoid her, which was at first suggested. As they came to her door she was standing watching and evidently waiting for them. ‘Ye’r a fine lot you to gang away wi’ a schooner,’ she called to them as they came up. ‘Ye had a fine time o’t up by at Rab’s Howff, yet nane o’ ye thocht it worth yer while tae look in an see me in the bye-gaun; but ’am naebody, an’ canna wheedle aboot ye like Jean o’ the Howff, an’ wile yer twa-three bawbees frae ooten yer pooches, an’ sen’ ye awa’ as empty as ma meal poke.’ The youngest of the three, being elated and reckless with drink, commenced to mock and taunt the old woman, his companions foolishly joining him also in jeering at her, until soon she was almost beside herself with rage. Shaking her fist at them as they passed on she pursued them with threat and invective that brought a chill of terror to their young hearts, and made them glad to find themselves at last beyond the range of her bitter tongue. The tragic sequel, coincident or otherwise, now falls to be related. Two nights later they set sail to cross to the Cumberland side of the Solway. The weather was threatening when they left, and a stiff breeze quickly developed into half a gale of wind. The schooner, which was very light, was observed to be making very bad weather of it, and to be drifting back towards the coast they had left. The gathering darkness of the night soon shut them out of sight, but early next morning the vessel lay a broken wreck on the rocky shore, and several weeks afterwards the bodies of her crew were washed ashore.”[(16)]

“In a somewhat sparsely populated district in the parish of Balmaghie there lived, with a crippled husband, a wrinkled-visaged old woman who was reckoned by all who lived near her as an uncanny character. She dwelt in a small thatched cottage well away from the public road, and had attached to her cottage a small croft or patch, half of which was used as a garden, the remainder as a gang for pigs and poultry. Not far from where she lived abounded long strips of meadow land, liable to be in wet seasons submerged by the backwaters of the Dee. About a mile from the cottage was a farm where a number of cows were kept, the farmer usually disposing of the butter made up every week to small shopkeepers, and in the villages near by. He was always very chary about passing the old woman’s cottage with his basket of butter and eggs, feeling sure of a bad market should she chance to get a glimpse at the contents of the basket. Moreover, he would gladly have dispensed with the peace-offering he was obliged to make in the form of a pound of butter or a dozen or so of eggs, which was considered a sure safeguard. To avoid her he had taken a new route, crossing a ford higher up the water and going over a hill to another village, where he would have little chance of coming in contact with her. One day however, he found that his plan was discovered, and that to persist in it would be to court disaster. Crossing the moor he observed the old woman busily gathering birns[3] and small whin roots. She was undoubtedly watching and waiting for him, and was the first to speak. ‘Aye, aye, man; ye maun reckon me gey blin’ no’ tae see ye stavering oot o’ the gate among moss holes tae get ooten my wey. Ye hae wat yer cloots monie a mornin’ tae keep awa’ frae my hoose, and for nae ither guid reason than tae save twa or three eggs or a morsel o’ butter that ony weel-minded neebor wud at ony time gie an auld donnert cripple tae feed and shelter. Losh, man, but ye hae a puir, mean speerit. Yer auld faither wudna hae din ony sic thing, an’ mony a soup o’ tea a hae geen ’im when he used to ca’ in on his hame-gaun frae the toon gey weel the waur o’ a dram.’ Annoyed at being challenged the farmer was not quite in a mood to laugh the matter off, and accordingly he, with some degree of temper, told the old woman to go to a place where neither birns nor whin roots were needed for kindling purposes. About a mile further over the moor he met a neighbour’s boy hurrying along, making for his farm to ask him to come over to help his master to pull a cow out of a hole in the peat-moss. He at once went, asking the lad to carry one of his baskets to enable them to get along faster. They left the two baskets at the end of a haystack near the muir farm, and crossed over to the moss where they could see the farmer and his wife doing their utmost to keep the cow’s head above the mire. Additional strength of arm however, soon brought the cow out of her dangerous position, and they retired for a little to the farm-house for a dram. ‘Dod,’ said the owner of the baskets, ‘I houp nae hairm has come the butter an’ eggs. I left them ower-by at the end o’ the hey-stack yonner.’ ‘O, they’ll be a’ richt,’ said the farmer’s wife; ‘but Johnie ’ll gang ower and bring them, sae sit still ’til he fetches them.’ Johnie went as told, and came back with the tidings that ‘the auld soo had eaten nearly all the butter an’ broken maist o’ the eggs, had pit her feet thro’ the bottom o’ the butter-skep, and made a deil o’ a haun o’ everything.’ ‘Aye, aye,’ quoth the farmer; ‘juist what I micht hae expeckit efter the look I got frae that auld deevel in woman’s shape doonbye.’ His neighbour was silent and seemed strangely put out, and when at last he found speech it was to say, ‘Man Sanny, she’s du’n baith o’ us! Dae ye ken I refused her a pig juist last week, an’ that accoonts for “crummie” in the moss-hole.’”[(17)]

A story which illustrates how witch-power was not always an influence for evil is recounted in the folk-lore of Tynron:—

“An old farmer who died some years ago in Tynron related his experience with a witch in Closeburn when he was a boy. He was carting freestone from a neighbouring quarry, when his horse came to a standstill at the witch’s door. Two other carters passed him, and only jeered both at the witch and the boy, when the former, to whom he had always been civil, came forward, and with a slight push adjusted the ponderous stone, which had slipped and was stopping the wheel. ‘Now, go,’ she said; ‘thou wilt find them at the gate below Gilchristland.’ At that very spot he found the perplexed carters standing, both horses trembling and sweating, so that he easily went past them and got to his goal first.”[(18)]

No reference to witchcraft in the south-west of Scotland would be complete without some reference to the witches of Crawick Mill, near Sanquhar. The following allusion is drawn from a recently published work on the folk-lore of Upper Nithsdale, and in it will be observed how the witch phenomenon of change into the form of a hare, and being shot at in that form, again repeats itself:—

“The village of Crawick Mill, near Sanquhar, was a noted place for witches, and appears to have been a sort of headquarters for the sisterhood. Their doings and ongoings have been talked of far and near, and many a tale is told of revels at the ‘Witches’ Stairs’—a huge rock among the picturesque linns of Crawick, where, in company of other kindred spirits gathered from all parts of the country, they planned their deeds of evil, and cast their cantrips to the hurt of those who had come under their displeasure. In many different ways were these inflicted. Sometimes the farmer’s best cow would lose its milk; a mare would miss foal; or the churn would be spellbound, and the dairymaid might churn and churn, and churn again, but no butter would come. No class of people was safe. The malignant power of the witches reached all classes of society; and even the minister’s churn on one occasion would yield no butter. Everything had been tried without effect. The manse of Sanquhar at that time was situated close to the river on the site now occupied by the farm-house of Blackaddie, and the good man told the servant girl to carry the churn to the other side of the Nith, thinking that the crossing of a running stream would break the spell. But it was to no purpose; neither was the rowan tree branch that was fixed in the byre, nor the horse-shoe nailed behind the door. The power of the witch was too strong for the minister; but his wife was more successful. She made up a nice roll of butter, part of a former churning, and, with a pitcher of milk, sent it as a present to the beldam at Crawick Mill, who was thought to have wrought the mischief. The gift was thankfully received, and the churn did well ever after.

“Robert Stitt, honest man, was the miller at Crawick Mill, and well respected by everybody. One day, however, he refused one of the Crawick witches a peck of meal; she was enraged at the refusal, and told him ‘he would rue that ere mony days passed.’ About a week afterwards, on a dark night, Crawick was rolling in full flood. The miller went to put down the sluice, missed his footing, fell into the water, and was carried off by the torrent and drowned. A young man going a journey started early in the morning, and, shortly after he set out, met one of the witches, when some words passed between them. She said to him, ‘Ye’re gaun briskly awa’, my lad, but ye’ll come ridin’ hame the nicht.’ The poor fellow got his leg broken that day, and was brought home in a cart as the witch predicted. An old woman named Nannie is said to have been the last of the uncanny crew that dwelt on the banks of the Crawick. She appears to have been a person superior in intelligence and forethought to her neighbours. She knew that she was considered a witch, and she rather encouraged the idea; it kept her neighbours in awe, and also helped her to get a living—many a present she got from the ignorant and superstitious to secure themselves from her spells.”[(19)]

“One of the most famous witches of tradition belonging to Corrie (Dumfriesshire) was the witch-wife of the Wyliehole, whose strange exploits and infernal doings were the subject of many a winter evening’s conversation around the farmer’s hearth.

“She was represented as having been terribly implacable in her resentments, and those who fell under her displeasure were certain to feel all the severity of her revenge. She pursued them incessantly with strange accidents and misfortunes, sometimes with nocturnal visits in the form of fierce wild cats and weasels, and not only disturbed their repose but kept them in constant terror of their lives. She seems also to have been somewhat peculiar in her movements, as she was seen, on one occasion, on the top of Burnswark crags switching lint by moonlight.”[(20)]

It may now be well to dwell for a little on the popular measures resorted to, to counteract witch influence and render it futile.

Relief and protection were sought in various ways. Charm and popular antidote had an abiding place in the domestic usage of the day, and faith, if wedded to empirical methods, was at all events all-prevailing. The mountain ash or rowan tree was believed to have a strong counter influence against unholy rite, and a very usual custom was to plait a branch and fasten it above the byre door to ensure the protection of their cows. Young women wore strings of rowan berries as beads on a string of the same colour, implicitly believing

“Rowan tree and red threid,
Put the witches to their speed”—

and Robert Heron, in his Journey through the Western Counties of Scotland (1792), further illustrates this point of superstitious observance by reference to an acquaintance:—“An anti-burgher clergyman in these parts, who actually procured from a person who pretended to skill in these charms, two small pieces of wood, curiously wrought, to be kept in his father’s cow-house as a security for the health of his cows. It is common (he adds) to bend into a cow’s tail a small piece of mountain ash-wood as a charm against witchcraft.”

Inside the cottage the rowan bunch was suspended from the top of the corner-cupboard or box-bed. Salt was supposed to possess a strong power of evil resistance in various ways, not least in the operation of “churning,” a handful being added to the cream before even commencing. To this day old horse-shoes are nailed over stable and byre doors “for luck,” a vague application of what in the older days was specific belief in their potency as a charm against witch-mischief.

Stones with holes through them naturally perforated by the action of the water, popularly called “elf-cups,” were also considered to possess protective power and were commonly nailed over the stable door.

It was further quite usual, when passing the hut of any old woman whom people eyed askance, to put the thumb upon the palm of the hand and close the fingers over it—a relic of the sign of the cross—to avert the evil eye.

A clear stone, called an “adder-bead” (supposed to be made in some mysterious way by the co-operation of thirteen adders), a robin’s breast, and a fox’s tongue, were other favoured charms. The witches and warlocks themselves were supposed to wear a protective, jacket-like garment, which had, at a certain mystic time of a March moon, been woven from the skins of water-snakes. These were popularly known as “warlock feckets.” Silver alone could pierce such garments and seems to have possessed properties entirely opposed to the invincibility of these disciples of Satan. Nothing could turn or stop a silver bullet which not only destroyed the illusion and restored the guise which had been assumed, to the original witch-form, but even inflicted bodily pain and wound.

“An old woman, still alive, tells how her father was going to Drummore on one occasion by the road past Terally (Kirkmaiden), and saw a man a short distance in front of him carrying a gun. A hare jumped over the dyke on to the road in front of the man with the gun, who at once shot at it, but apparently missed. He fired four more shots at it, but the hare only jumped on the road as if making sport of them. Before he fired the next shot however, he slipped a threepenny piece into the gun, and that had effect. The hare limped into a whin bush near by, and when the two men went to look for it they found a reputed witch lying with a broken leg.”

An oft-practised rite in connection with the supposed bewitchment of a cow, and its failure to yield milk, was as follows:—

“A young maiden milked whatever dregs of milk the cow had left, which was of a sanguineous nature and poisonous quality. This was poured warm from the cow into a brass pan, and, every inlet to the house being closed, was placed over a gentle fire until it began to heat. Pins were dropped in and closely stirred with a wand of rowan; when boiling, rusty nails were thrown in and more fuel added.”[(21)]

The witch or warlock who had wrought the mischief were in some subtle way affected, and suffered pain so long as the distillation of the charm was continued; and the further point is brought out that the potency of the charm could even drag the perpetrators of the evil to the scene of their witch-work.

There is a hitherto unrecorded story bearing on this point:—

“Andrew M‘Murray, farmer in Mountsallie, in the Rhinns of Galloway at one time, one morning found one of his cows very ill. In the middle of the uneasiness about the condition of the cow a tailor ‘whup-the-cat’ arrived at the farm-house to do some sewing, and among the others, went out to look at the cow. He at once said the cow was witched, and told them of a way to find out the person who had done so. They got the cow to her feet, and took whatever milk she had from her, and put it in a pot with a number of pins in it, and set it on the fire to boil, with a green turf on the top of the lid. When the pot began to boil dry, a near neighbour, who was a reputed witch, arrived, apparently in a state of great pain, and excitedly asked to see the cow. Immediately the cow saw her it jumped to its feet, broke its binding, ran out of the byre, and did not stop till it was at the top of Tordoo, a round hill in the neighbourhood.”[(22)]

The Dalry district, as already seen, is comparatively rich in uncannie reminiscence, one of which also accentuates this particular point:—

“The cow of a Dalry crofter became nearly yell quite unexpectedly. A neighbour said she would soon find out the reason. She boiled a quantity of needles and pins in some milk drippings from the cow, when an old woman who was reputed to be a witch knocked at the window and begged her to give over boiling as she was pricked all over, and if they did so the cow would soon be all right, which accordingly happened.”[(23)]

Two “cantrip incantations” concerned with love-making, strung together in rhyme, have been handed down:—

“In the pingle or the pan,
Or the haurpan o’ man,
Boil the heart’s-bluid o’ the tade,
Wi’ the tallow o’ the gled;
Hawcket kail an’ hen-dirt,
Chow’d cheese an chicken-wort,
Yallow puddocks champit sma’,
Spiders ten, and gellocks twa,
Sclaters twa, frae foggy dykes,
Bumbees twunty, frae their bykes,
Asks frae stinking lochens blue,
Ay, will make a better stue;
Bachelors maun hae a charm,
Hearts they hae fu’ o’ harm.”

The second, while of much the same character, has evidently more special reference to the weaker sex:—

“Yirbs for the blinking queen,
Seeth now, when it is e’en,
Boortree branches, yellow gowans,
Berry rasps and berry rowans;
Deil’s milk frae thrissles saft,
Clover blades frae aff the craft;
Binwud leaves and blinmen’s baws,
Heather bells and wither’d haws;
Something sweet, something sour,
Time about wi’ mild and door;
Hinnie-suckles, bluidy-fingers,
Napple roots and nettle stingers,
Bags o’ bees and gall in bladders,
Gowks’ spittles, pizion adders:
May dew and fumarts’ tears,
Nool shearings, nowt’s neers,
Mix, mix, six and six,
And the auld maid’s cantrip fix.”[(24)]

In Allan Ramsay’s pastoral play of the Gentle Shepherd a vivid word-painting occurs of the popular estimation of the witch methods and witch beliefs of the times.

The passage occurs where “Bauldy,” love-stricken and despairing, goes to seek the aid of “Mause,” an old woman supposed to be a witch:—

“’Tis sair to thole; I’ll try some witchcraft art.
········
Here Mausey lives, a witch that for sma’ price
Can cast her cantraips, and gie me advice,
She can o’ercast the night and cloud the moon,
And mak the deils obedient to her crune;
At midnight hours, o’er the kirkyard she raves,
And howks unchristen’d weans out of their graves;
Boils up their livers in a warlock’s pow,
Rins withershins about the hemlock low;
And seven times does her prayers backwards pray,
Till Plotcock comes with lumps of Lapland clay,
Mixt with the venom of black taids and snakes;
Of this unsonsy pictures aft she makes
Of ony ane she hates, and gars expire,
With slow and racking pains afore a fire,
Stuck fu’ of pins; the devilish pictures melt;
The pain by fowk they represent is felt.”

An old form of incantation extracted from a witch confession in 1662[4] refers to the form of witchcraft just alluded to in the Gentle Shepherd—the modelling in clay of the object of resentment and the piercing and maiming of such effigies to compass corresponding bodily harm. In this instance, wasting illness was intended to be induced by subjecting the diminutive clay figure to roasting over a fire:—

“In the Divellis nam, we powr in this water amang this mowld (meall)
For long duyning[5] and ill heall;
We putt it into the fyre,
That it may be brunt both stick and stowre,
It salbe[6] brunt with owr will
As any sticle[7] upon a kill.[8]”

A further forceful illustration of this particular form of spell-casting may be quoted from the confession of a reputed witch, “Janet Breadheid,” who was brought before the Sheriff-Principal of Elgin and Forres in 1662.

It is here referred to as the family against whom the evil was directed was that of “Hay of Park,” an evident off-shoot of a main stem of the Hays—the Hays of Errol (Perthshire)—a family represented in the south-west of Scotland by the Hays of Park, who inherited part of the lands of the Abbey of Glenluce immediately after the Reformation. The old family seat, now tenanted by farm servants, is generally described as the “Old House of Park.”

The following is the quotation:—“My husband brought hom the clay in his plaid (newk). It ves maid in my hows; and the Divell himself with ws. We brak the clay werie small, lyk meil, (and) sifted it with a siew, and powred in vater amongst it, with wordis that the Divell leardned vs (in the Di.) Vellis nam. I brought hom the water, in a pig, out of the Rud-wall. We were all upon owr (kneyes) and our hair about owr eyes, and owr handis liftet up to the Divell, and owr eyes stedfast looking (upon him) praying and saying wordis which he learned ws, thryse ower, for destroyeing of this Lairdis (meall) children, and to mak his hows airles. It was werie sore wrought, lyk rye-bowt. It was about the bignes of a feadge or pow. It was just maid lyk the bairn; it vanted no mark of any maill child, such as heid, face, eyes, nose, mowth lippes, etc., and the handis of it folded downe by its sydis. It ves putt to the fyre, first till it scrunked, and then a cleir fyre about it, till it ves hard. And then we took out of the fyre, in the Divell’s nam; and we laid a clowt about it and did lay (it) on a knag, and sometimes under a chist. Each day we would water, and then rost and bek it; and turn it at the fyre, each other day, whill that bairne died; and then layed it up, and steired it not untill the nixt bairne wes borne; And then, within half an year efter that bairne was born, (we) took it out again out of the cradle and clowt, and would dip it now and than among water, and beck (it) and rost it at the fyre, each other day once, as ve did against the other that was dead, untill that bairn (died) also.”[(25)]

The following is an example of a “Devil’s Grace”:—

“We eat this meat in the Divellis nam,
With sorrow, and sych,[9] and meikle shame,
We sall destroy hows and hald;
Both sheip and noat in till the fald.
Little good sall come to the fore
Of all the rest of the little store.”

The following extract from a rare and fascinating work, The Book of Galloway (1745), possesses two points of much interest. It includes the prophetic utterings of a witch called Meg Macmuldroch at the “cannie moment” when Sir William Douglas of Gelston, whose name is so intimately associated with the creation and development of the town of Castle-Douglas, was born:—

“And anon as she came to the burden of her prophecy, pointing her quivering fingers to the sky, and repeating the following words with much emphasis:—‘I looked at the starnies and they were in the right airt. It was full tide, and bein’ lown and in the deid howe o’ nicht, in Sandy Black’s fey, I heard the sough o’ the sea and the o’erswak o’ the waves as they broke their bellies on the sawns o’ Wigtown. There was a scaum i’ the lift; the young mune was in the auld mune’s arms, that was bad and guid—bad for the father, guid for the son; and as sure as the de’ils in the King’s croft o’ Stocking,[10] here’s my benison and malison, mak’ o’t what ye wull.

‘Grief and scaith, the faither to his death;
Thrift and thrive to the bairn alive.’”

The second point contained is the practical application and mention of several witchcraft and old-world expressions, some of which have just been referred to in dealing with the counteraction of witch-force:—

“‘Greater pity,’ said the minister abruptly, ‘that the penalties against witchcraft are now done away with’ ... She has already cast her glamour of the evil eye on this man. His very horse has been hag-ridden overnight, and in the mornin’, sair forfochten wi’ nocturnal sweats, and the “adder-stane” winna bring remeid. His cow was weel fed, for ye ken ‘the cow gives her milk by the mou’, but the crone has milked the tether,’ and his twa stirks are stannin’ slaverin’ at baith mouth and een, and its neither side-ill, quarter-ill, tail-ill, muir-ill, or water-ill, and its no the rinnin’ doun, the black spauld, or the warbles, but a clear case of elf-shot, though a piece of rowan has been tied to their tails.... John went first to Shennaton on the water o’ Bladnoch, bad land at the best, for it girns a’ summer and greets a’ winter. There he couldna leeve, so his ‘fire was slockened,’ and here he’s half deid, an’ a’ through the witches.”[(26)]

In concluding this chapter further notice may be taken of the quite common practice in those days, of the fears of the country-side being traded upon by cunning old women supposed to possess, or pretending to possess, witch-power. In wholesome dread of the malign influence of the “uncannie e’en” these old women were propitiated by lavish presents of produce and provender, and so skillfully did many of them play their parts that they lived comfortably and bien at the expense of their neighbours, who were only too glad to send new milk, cheese, meal, and even to cast their peats and help with the rents to make “the e’en look kindly” and avert possible disaster, all of which is graphically alluded to and set forth in Allan Cunningham’s “Pawky Auld Kimmer”:—

“There’s a pawky auld Kimmer wons low i’ the glen;
Nane kens how auld Kimmer maun fecht and maun fen;
Kimmer gets maut, and Kimmer gets meal,
And cantie lives Kimmer, richt couthie an’ hale;
Kimmer gets bread, and Kimmer gets cheese,
An’ Kimmer’s uncannie e’en keep her at ease.
‘I rede ye speak lowne, lest Kimmer should hear ye;
Come sain ye, come cross ye, an’ Gude be near ye!’”

CHAPTER III.

Witchcraft Trials and Persecution.

“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”
—Exodus xxii., 18.

ittle is heard of witchcraft in Scotland before the latter half of the 16th century, but in the year 1563, in the reign of Mary, Queen of Scotland, a strenuous Act directed against the practice of witchcraft became law, and was most rigorously enforced. As this has been described as the law under which all the subsequent witch trials took place its significant phraseology may in part be quoted:—

“The Estates enact that nae person take upon hand to use ony matter of witchcrafts, sorcery or necromancy, nor give themselves furth to have ony sic craft or knowledge thereof; also that nae person seek ony help, response, or consultation at ony sic users or abusers of witchcraft under the pain of death.”

Curiously enough the passing of this and similar Acts was attended by results as unexpected as they were unforeseen. Belief in witchcraft became the passion of public credulity. Accusations, generally false and often even ludicrous in their solemn foolishness, were trumped up, and action followed, that hurried countless helpless human beings to the stake to die a cruel and shameful death. It was a time of terror, an epoch of superstitious sacrifice, extending and gathering force as the reign of Mary merged into the Regency, only finding pause at the removal of James VI. of Scotland to London, there to preside over the united destinies of these islands. As is well known, this monarch evinced a more than personal interest in matters pertaining to the “unseen world,” and that, gathering up his ideas and conclusions, he embodied them in a singular treatise entitled Daemonologie.[11] Less creditable to his memory it is told that not only did he favour executions for this alleged crime, but actually took pleasure in witnessing the sacrifice of the condemned.

With the death of James a phase of quiescence in witch quest and sacrifice is entered upon, a lull which lasted for some fifteen years. It was again, however, to be broken, this time by the unfortunate intervention and misdirected zeal of the Church itself. The General Assembly, stimulated by a desire for Puritanical perfection, awakened the slumbering crudity of belief, that direct Satanic Power stalked abroad in the land in the form of witchcraft. Condemnatory Acts were passed in the years 1640-43-44-45 and 49. Again the stake and tar faggot blazed. The Levitical law was accepted as a too literal injunction, and from this time forward it is the clergy who particularly figure as the pursuers of witches, keen and relentless to a degree; and yet with it all, however misguided the efforts of these Churchmen, however cruel their methods, it is only just to their memories to believe in their purity of motive, and to give them all credit for pious and earnest desire to combat and stamp out what to them was in very truth a great evil.

Different methods were adopted to establish proof and justify the cases for the accusers, but the one test specially relied upon was to find the actual presence of what has already been described as the “witch mark”[12] upon the person of the suspected. When this was found, or supposed to be found, it was the deliberate practice to pass through it a sharp needle-like instrument, and if no pain was felt or blood drawn, then guilt was held to be firmly established.

“A Running Stream they dare na cross!”

J. Copland.

So frequent were the accusations that the “pricking of witches” became a recognised calling: one individual, John Kincaid by name, having such a reputation for skill in this unhallowed work that he seems to have been employed in the principal witch trials of this period, such an entry as—

“Item, mair to Jon Kinked for brodding of her VI. lib. Scotts”

being of quite common occurrence in the notes of expenses still on record.

It is to this second or later period of persecution that the record of witch charge and punishment in the south-west of Scotland really belongs, and from 1656 the records of the civil and ecclesiastical courts teem with accounts of searching enquiry and trial. It must further be remembered that over and above the regularly constituted enquiries of State and Church a great number of Commissions were granted by the Privy Council to gentlemen in every county, and almost in every parish, to try persons accused of witchcraft, many of whom suffered the extreme penalty,[13] and of which no particulars can now be gleaned.

It is now our purpose to set forth as completely as possible such relative matter and extracts from existing documents as will describe the proceedings as they actually took place in the distinctive localities of the Dumfries and Galloway district, but it may perhaps be here fittingly noted, not without a certain sense of gratification, that this south-western district, though far from blameless, compares more than favourably with other districts in Scotland, both in fairness of judgment and rigour of punishment.

Proceedings in Galloway.

Presbytery of Kirkcudbright, April, 1662.—A person, named James Welsh, confessed himself guilty of the crime of witchcraft before the Presbytery of Kirkcudbright; but the justices refused to put him upon his trial, because he was a minor when he acknowledged his guilt, and had retracted his extra-judicial confession; but on the 17th of April, 1662, they ordered him to be scourged and put in the correction house, having so grossly “prevaricated and delated so many honest persons.”

Kirkcudbright, 1671.—At an Assize held in the burgh of Dumfries in 1671 eight or more females were charged with witchcraft; five of them were eventually sent for trial to Kirkcudbright.

Dalry Kirk-Session, 1696.—Elspeth M‘Ewen, an old woman living alone at a place called Bogha, near the farm of Cubbox, in Balmaclellan, was suspected by the country-side of various acts of “witching.” In particular, she was believed to have at her command a wooden pin that was movable and that could be withdrawn from the base of the rafters resting on the walls of the cottage, which particular part of the building was in these old days called the “kipple foot.”

With this pin Elspeth was supposed to have the supernatural power of drawing an exhaustive milk supply from her neighbour’s cows merely by placing it in contact with the udder, and this it was reported she practised freely. Other cantrips laid to her door included capricious interference with the laying power of her neighbour’s hens, causing them sometimes to fail altogether, at others to produce in amazing plenteousness.

At last complaint was made to the Session, and the beadle, by name M‘Lambroch, was sent away with the minister’s mare to bring her before the Session. On the journey there is a tradition that the mare in a panic of fright sweated great drops of blood at the rising hill near the Manse, since known as the “Bluidy Brae.”

After being examined she was sent to Kirkcudbright, where she lay in prison for about two years.

Dalry Kirk-Session, October 15th, 1697.—The following entry evidently refers to the expense of her maintenance in prison: “Given for alimenting Elspet M‘Koun, alledged of witchcraft in prison, £01.01.00.”

Kirkcudbright, 1698.—In Kirkcudbright prison Elspeth M‘Ewen was so inhumanely treated that she frequently implored her tormentors to terminate a life which had become a grievous burden to her.

In March, 1698, a Commission was appointed by the Privy Council for her trial, along with another woman, Mary Millar, also accused of witchcraft, “to meet and conveen at Kirkcudbright.” The following is an extract from the said Commission:—

Extract from “Commission for Judging of Elspeth M‘Cowen and Mary Millar, alleadged Guilty of Witchcraft, 1698.”

“The Lords of his Majesties privie Councill, being informed that Elspeth M‘Cowen and Mary Millar, both within the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, presently prisoners within the tolboth of Kirkcudbright, are alleaged guilty of the horid cryme of witchcraft, and hes committed severall malifices; and considering it will be a great deall of charges and expenses to bring the saids Elspeth M‘Cowen and Mary Millar to this place, in order to a tryall before the Lords commissioners of justiciary: Besides, that severall inconveniences may aryse by there transportation. And the saids Lords lykewayes considering that this horid cryme cannot be tryed and judged by any persons in the countrie without a warrant and commission from their Lordships for that effect; And the saids Lords being desyreous to have the said matter brought to a tryall, that the persones guilty may receive condigne punishment, and others may be deterred from committing so horid a cryme in time coming; They do hereby give full power, warrant and commission, to Sir John Maxwell of Pollock,—Maxwell of Dalswintoune, Hugh M‘Guffock of Rusco, Adam Newall of Barskeoche, Dunbar of Machrymore, Thomas Alexander, Stewart Depute of Kirkcudbright, Robert M‘Clellend of Barmagachan, and Mr Alexander Fergussone of Isle, Advocate; And declare any three of the foresaids persones to be a sufficient quorum, the said Stewart Depute of Kirkcudbright being one of the three, To take tryall off, and to judge and do justice upon the saids Elspeth M‘Cowen and Mary Millar, for the cryme of witchcraft. And in order thereto, To meitt and conveen at Kirkcudbright, the second ffryday of Apryle next to come, and there to accept for this present commission, and upon there acceptance to administrate the oath of fidelity to the person whom the Lord Justice Clerk or James Montgomery of Langshare, Clerk to the Justice Court, shall depute and substitute to be clerk to the present Commissione, With power to the saids Commissioners or their said quorum, to choyse their own Clerk for whom they shall be answerable, In caise that the saids Lords Justice Clerk and James Montgomery, shall refuse to nominate a Clerk in this matter, they being first requyred so to doe, With power lykewayes to the saids persones hereby commissionat or their said quorum, To create, make, and constitute Serjants, Dempsters, and other Members of the said court, And to Issue out and cause raise precepts or lybells of indictment at the instance of Samuell Cairnmount, writer in Kirkcudbright, as procurator fiscall for his Majesties interest in the said matter, against the saids Elspeth M‘Cowen and Mary Millar, accused of Witchcraft, ffor sumonding and citeing them upon ffyfteen dayes, by delyvering to them a full copie of the lybell or indictment, with the names and designationes of the Assyzers and witnesses subjoined; And for citeing there assyzers and witnesses in the ordinary and under the usual paynes and certificationes, To compear before the saids Commissioners hereby commissionat, ... With power to the saids Commissioners or their said quorums, To decern and Adjudge them to be burned, or otherwise to be execute to death within such space and after such a manner as they shall think fit, and appoints the saids commissioners, there said quorum or Clerk, to transmit the haill process which shall be ledd before them against the said Elspeth M‘Cowen and Mary Millar, and severall steps thereof and verdict of the inquest to be given thereupon to the saids Lords of his Majesties privie Councill, betwixt and the ffyfteenth day of June nixt to come.”[(27)]

On the 26th of July the committee of Privy Council reported that they had examined the proceedings of the commissioners in the case of Elspeth M‘Ewen (the report signed by the Lord Advocate), who had been pronounced guilty upon her own confession and the evidence of witnesses “of a compact and correspondence with the devil, and of charms and of accession to malefices.” It was ordered that the sentence of death against Elspeth should be executed under care of the Steward of Kirkcudbright and his deputies.

Found guilty by her own confession, a certain means to end a miserable life, Elspeth M‘Ewen suffered the extreme penalty of being burned at the stake, the execution taking place in what is now known as Silver Craigs Park, on the 24th day of August, 1698.

The following extracts connected with the trial and execution are taken from some old Kirkcudbright records, which were brought to light by the late Mr James Nicholson:—

“Ane accompt of my (George Welsh) depursements as Thessr.[14] from Michaelmas, 1697, to Michaelmas, 1698, as follows—

It would thus appear that the executioner (William Kirk) had to be kept in jail in order that he should be forthcoming at the execution. He seems to have been an old, infirm man, without relations or friends, and on 8th July, 1699, he addressed the following petition to the Provost and Magistrates:—

“To the Right Honorable my Lord Provest, Baylies, and Cownsell of the Royal Burgh of Kirkcut.—Humbly sheweth, That yor Honors patchioner is in great straits in this dear time and lik to sterv for hwnger, and whan I go to the cowntrie and foks many of them has it not and others of them that hes it say they are overburdened with poor folk that they are not able to stand before them, and they will bid me go hom to the town to maintain me and cast stanes at me. May it therefore please your honors to look upon my indigent condition and help me for the Lord sake, and yor honors pettioner shall ever pray.”

In answer to the above “earnest cry and prayer” there appears the following entry in the “Thessr’s” account:—

“8th Jully, 1699.

“The sd day the magistrates and Counsell ordains the Thessr. to give the petitioner the next week six shill Scots forby his weekly allowance.”

Another document, which throws a curious side-light on Elspeth M‘Ewen’s trial, is the sentence against one Janet Corbie, who advised Elspeth to plead not guilty. It is as follows:—

“Kirkcudbright, — day of July, 1698.

“The same day, it being most palpably and cleirly evident and made appear to ye magistrates and Consell yt. Janet Corbie, dauter of Wm. Corbie, hath been and as yet continues in a most scandlous carrige, abusing of her neybors by scandlous expressions, whereffor there hath been fformer ffines put upon her, and that she is a persoun yt leeves by pyckering and stealing as is most justly suspect yrof, and yt she hath been endevouring to harden Elspeth M‘Keoun, wha is in ye laigh sellar as ane wich, in endevouring to dissuad her to confess and that people sinned ther sowl wha said she was a wich, and ffor her constant practis in abuse of ye Lord’s Day emploing herselff yrin ofthymes in stealing her neybors guids such as unyuns and bowcaill and taking them to ye countrie and makin sale yr of, and sevll oyr thing yt upon just grownds could be mayd appere so yt to long she hath been suffered to resyde in this place; yrfor, and yt ye place may be troubled with such a miscrent, and scandlous person nae langer in tym coming, ye magistrates and consell out of a due sens of yr dutie and of ye justice of her sentens, ordains the said Janet Corbie to remain in prison while Munday morning neist att ten o’clock and then to be taken ffurth of the tolboth by ye officers and wt tuck of drum to be transported over the ferry bote, to be exported in all tyme coming from ye sosiety or convercacioune of all guid Christians and indwellers in ye place, and never to return yrto, prohibiting and discharging all inhabitants, qur parents, relaciouns, or any oyrs wtin ye toun’s bouns, to harbor, reset, convers, commune with, or entertane the said Janet or receve her to their society or company at any place or tyme in all tyme coming, and yt under ye pain of fforty pounds Scots muney to be peyd by ilk transgressor, toties quoties to ye toun’s Thessr. atower whatever oyer punishment the magistrets and consell sall think fit further to impose, and ordains thir presents to be publish at ye Mercat Cross yt non may pretend ignorans in tyme coming, and the magistrats ordane to see the sentence put in execution.”

Extracts from Minute Book of the Kirk-Session of Kirkcudbright.[(28)]

“Janet M‘Robert in Milnburn is delated to the Session for Witchcraft, the signs and instances qrof (whereof) are afterwards recorded. The Session therefor recommends to the Magistrates to apprehend and incarcerate her till tryall be had of that matter.”

“Feb. 6, 1701.

“As to Janet M‘Robert in Milnburn, it is delated by Elizabeth Lauchlon, lawfull daughter to John Lauchlon yr., (there) that the sd. (said) Elizabeth went to Janet’s house, when she was not within, and looking in at the door saw a wheel going about and spinning without the help of any person seen by her, and she went in and essayed to lay hold of the said wheel, but was beat back to the door and her head was hurt, though she saw nobody. And yt. (that) after she was in the said Janet’s House (being at school with her) the Devil appeared to her in the likeness of a man, and did bid her deliver herself over to him, from the crown of her head to the sole of her foot, which she refused to do, saying she would rather give herself to God Almighty. After the Devil went away the sd. (said) Janet, who was present with her, laid bonds on her not to tell. And yr after he came a second time to her, being in Janet’s house alone, in the likeness of a gentleman, and desired her to go with him, and yr after disappeared, seeming not to go out at the door.

“Robert Crichton’s wife farther delates, that when she was winnowing corn in Bailie Dunbar’s barn, the said Janet came in to her and helped her, tho’ not desired, till she had done, and desired of her some chaff for her cow. She gave her a small quantity in her apron, with which she seemed not to be satisfied, so upon the morrow thereafter, the said Robert Crichton’s wife’s breast swelled to a great height, which continued for about the space of five weeks, so that the young child who was then sucking decayed and vanished away to a shadow, and immediately yr after their cow took such a distemper that her milk had neither the colour nor taste that it used to have, so yt no use could be made of it, all which happened about three years ago.

“It is further delated by Howell, that being one day in John Robertson’s in the Milnburn, he desired to buy two hens. They said they had none, but perhaps Janet M‘Robert would do it, and accordingly he asked Janet, who answered she had none to sell to him. He replied, ‘you have them to eat my goodmother’s bear when it is sown; but (said he), my rough lad (meaning his dog) will perhaps bring them to me.’ She answered, ‘your rough lad will bring none of my hens this two days;’ and before that he went to the town, the dog went mad to the beholding of many.

“Further, it is delated, that a friend of the said Janet’s living in Rerwick, whose wife was lying on childbed, did send his daughter to Janet to borrow some money which she refused to give at the first, yet upon a second consideration she gave her two fourteens, but still assured the Lass that she would lose them. ‘What,’ (says the Lass) ‘am I a child yet?’ and for the mare security she took a purse out of her pocket in which there were no holes, and took out some turmour (turmerick) which she had in it, and did put in the two fourteens and threw the neck of her purse (as she used perhaps to do) assuring herself that she should not lose them now, and went home, and when she came there, she opened the purse to take out the two fourteens, and she had nothing.

“A Witch Trial.”

J. Copland.

“Further, it is delated by John M‘Gympser’s wife, Agnes Kirk, that the said Janet came one day there, and desired a hare’s bouk (carcase) which she refused, and since that time their dog hath neither been able to run or take ane hare.”

“Feb. 12th, 1701.

“As to Janet M‘Robert, John Bodden in Milnburn delates, that at the laik wake of his child three years ago, Patrick Linton’s son heard a great noise about Janet’s house, so yt he was afraid to go out at the door, and John Bodden himself going to the door heard it also, at which he was greatly affrighted. Upon the morrow yr after, the said Janet went into John’s house, and they told her what they heard the night before about her house. Janet answered, ‘It is nothing but my clocken hen’; but John declared that ‘all the hens within twenty miles would not have made such a noise’

.“The sd. John further delates that, upon the Wednesday after Janet was incarcerated, he did see about cock-crow a candle going through the said Janet’s house, but saw nothing holding it.”

The Finding—

“April 10th, 1701.

“As to Janet M‘Robert, an extract of the delations against her being sent to Edinburgh, and a commission written for to pursue her legally it was denyed in regard they judged the delations not to be sufficient presumptions of guilt, so as to found a process of that nature. Notwithstanding thereof the said Janet consented to an act of banishment, and went hence to Ireland.”

Extracts from Session Book of Twynholm.[(29)]

“18th April, 1703.

“Jean M‘Murrie in Irelandton, suspect of witchcraft, being aprehended and incarcerated in the tolbooth of Kirkcudbright upon a warrant from the civil magistrate, the minr. (minister) is desired to cause cite to the next Session any whom he can find to have any presumptions of witchcraft agt the said Jean.”

“25th April, 1703.

“The minister reports that he (as he was desired) has caused cite some persons anent Jean M‘Murrie’s suspected witchcraft, such as—

“1st. Florence Sprot, who being called and compearing, declares that by the report of the country Jean M‘Murrie has been under the name of a witch for many years.

“2d. John M‘Gown in Culcray, in Tongland, declares, that he having a daughter of Jean M‘Murrie’s with him, the said Jean came one day to his house before her daughter went from him, and the sd Jean having conceived some anger because her daughter came to him without the said Jean’s consent, she staying a little in his house, went away to a neighbour’s house, and stayed there all night, and the said John going to her to-morrow, when she saw the said John she inquired how it came to pass that he took her daughter without her consent; and he desiring her back again to his house, but she by no entreatie wd (would) go to his house, and left the said John in a rage, and within about four days his wife took a dreadful stitch thro’ her, as if she had been stricken with a whinger or knife, and his wife desiring earnestly that Jean M‘Murrie would come and see her, but the sd Jean would never come to see her (altho’ bidden by Janet Dallan in Irlandton), and so the said John’s wife continued in great pain until she died.

“3d. Issobel M‘Gown in Netherton, who, being called and compearing, declares that Jean M‘Murrie has been under the name of a witch for many years by the report of the country.

“4th. Christian Bisset in Glencroft, declares that Jean M‘Murrie has been under the name of a witch since she came to the parish, which is more than ten years.”

“2nd May, 1703.

“Janet M‘Haffie in the Mark of Twynhame, declares that, in harvest 1700, Jean M‘Murrie came one night to the said Mark after they had been at the Mill, and the said Janet M‘Haffie going to milk the kye, disowned the said Jean (not knowing that it was she), neither did any other about the Mark own the said Jean that night, and Jean going away without any alms that night, upon the morrow their milk was made useless, having a loathsome smell, likewise the said Janet M‘Haffie fell sick, and was like a daft body for about eight days, at the end whereof both the sd. Janet and their milk grew better.”

“2nd May, 1703.

“Margaret Kingan in Inglishtown, declares along with Quintin Furmount, kirk-officer, that John Neilson in Waltrees said to them, that this last ware Jean M‘Murrie was selling about a peck of corn to the said John, and the said John would not give the said Jean what she would have for the said corn, and so the said Jean went away from him in anger, and the said John’s horse did sweat until he died.”

“2nd May, 1703.

“Robert Gelly and Sarah M‘Nacht, in Chappell in Tongland, heaving been hearing sermon in Twynhame this day, were desired by the minister to wait upon the Session, which was to meet after sermon, which accordingly they did, and the said Sarah declares before the Session that upon a day about Midsummer last, Jean M‘Murrie came into the Chappel and sought a piece bread to a lass that she had with her, and Sarah M‘Nacht said she had no bread ready. Jean M‘Murrie said, she (viz. the lass that was with her) would it may be take some of these pottage (Sarah having some pottage among her hands) but, however, Sarah gave her none, and Jean M‘Murrie going away muttering, said, either ‘you may have more loss,’ or ‘you shall have more loss,’ and within about six hours or thereby thereafter, Robert Gelly lost a horse, and that the said Jean came never to Robert Gelly’s house since that time, and the said Robert declares that he has still the thoughts that his horse was killed with divelrie.”

“2nd May, 1703.

“Robert Bryce, Robert M‘Burnie, and William Brown, ruling elders, declared that Thomas Craig in Barwhinnock said to them that upon a day more than two years ago Jean M‘Murrie came to his house and sought his horse, and began to discourse to the sd Thomas and his wife about flesh. Thomas said they had no flesh. She went away in a rage and said, ‘God send them more against the next time she should come there,’ and within a week the said Thomas lost a quey by drowning.”

The finding:—

“9th May, 1703.

“Robert Bryce attended the Presbytery. The minister reports that Jean M‘Murray, having sought an Act of Banishment to transport herself out of the Stewartrie of Kirkcudbright within or at the end of ten days, and never to be found within the same again under the pain of death, is let out of Prison.”

Members of the Kirk-Session of Twynholm at this time:—William Clark, Minister; James Robison, Thomas Robison, John Herries, Ninian M‘Nae, Robert Bryce, James Milrae, William Milrae, William Brown, Thomas Sproat, James M‘Kenna, Alexander Halliday, Robert M‘Burnie.

Parish of Urr.—The following is an extract from the Presbytery records of Dumfries, dated 22nd April, 1656:—[(30)]

“John M‘Quhan in Urr, compeared, confessing that he went to Dundrennan, to a witch-wife, for medicine for his sick wife, and that he got a salve for her, and that the wife said to him, ‘If the salve went in his wife would live, if not she would die.’ Janet Thomson in Urr, compearing, confessed that she went to the said witch, and got a salve to her mother, and that the witch bade her take her mother, and lay her furth twenty-four hours; and said that her mother got her sickness between the mill and her ain house, and bade her tak her to the place where she took it, and wash her with (elder) leaves. She also confessed that the deceased Thomas M‘Minn and his friends sent her at another time to the same witch, whose name is Janet Miller. They were both rebuked (by the Presbytery), and referred to their own Session to be rebuked from the pillar in sackcloth, and the witch Janet Miller was further detained, the parish minister to announce from the pulpit that all who could were required to give evidence ‘of sic devilish practices.’”

Kirkpatrick-Durham Kirk-Session.—At Bridge of Urr, Isobel M‘Minn called Jean Wallace a witch. Jean told the Session. Both women were summoned to appear. The Session decided there was no witchcraft in the matter.

“The Session, having shown them the evil of such strife and scolding, and having exhorted them to live in peace and be reconciled to each other, made them promise each to other that no such strife should be between them any more.”[(31)]

Parish of Carsphairn.—An arbitrary incident of witch detection took place during the ministry of John Semple, a man who, if somewhat eccentric, was graced with extraordinary piety and natural ability.

Of him it is recorded that “Upon a certain time when a neighbouring minister was distributing tokens before the Sacrament, and was reaching a token to a certain woman, Mr Semple (standing by) said ‘Hold your hand, she hath gotten too many tokens already: she is a witch,’ which, though none suspected her then, she herself confessed to be true, and was deservedly put to death for the same.”[(32)]

John Semple died at Carsphairn about the year 1667.

Extract from Minnigaff Kirk-Session Records.—“There being a flagrant report yt. some persons in this parish in and about the house of Barcly (Bargaly) have practised that piece of devilrie, commonly called ‘turning the riddle,’ as also it being reported yt. ye principal person is one Malley Redmond, an Irish woman, for present nurse in the house of Barcly to ye young lady Tonderghie, as also yt. Alex. Kelly, Gilbert Kelly his son, and Marion Murray, formerly servant in Barcly, now in Holme, were witnesses yrto, the Session appoints ye said Malley and ye said witnesses to be cited to ye nixt meeting.”

Malley, after some delay, at length appeared, but positively denied having “practised that piece of devilry turning the riddle,” but acknowledged that she had seen it done in her father’s house in Ireland by two girls on the occasion of something having been stolen, “to fear ye guilty person yt. it might restore yt. was stolen.” Malley was exhorted to be ingenuous, but she persisted in asserting her innocence. The Session, therefore, resolved to proceed to proof. The proceedings occupy a number of pages, and are too long for insertion; but the particulars are comprehended in the deposition of Marrion Murray:—

“Marrion Murray, aged 18 years, having been sworn, purged of malice and partial counsel, deponeth yt. she (not having seen any other person doing it before her), together with ye nurse held the riddle between ym. having a pair of little schissors fastened into ye rim of the riddle, whereof ye nurse Malley Redmond held one point and she the other, and that ye nurse mumbled some words mentioning Peter and Paul, and that when the nurse said these words the riddle stirred less or more, and after ye nurse had said ye words she bad ye deponent say them too, and that she accordingly said the same things back again to the nurse, and that the deponent had said to ye nurse Malley before ever she meddled with it that if she knew yr. was anything evil in doing of it she would not meddle with it, and ye nurse replied yr. was no evil in it, and further that to sift the meddling with it she offered to take ye child from ye lady’s arms, but ye young lady put her to it, bidding her go do it. As also yt. further ye said Marion depones yt. ye same day, a little after, ye young lady bad her go to ye barn and yr do it over again with ye nurse, which she positively refused, whereupon ye young lady did it herself with all the circumstances she and the nurse had done it in the chambers before; moreover, that some days after, the chamber door being close upon the young lady and her nurse Malley, ye deponent, looking through a hole in ye door, saw ye nurse and ye lady standing and ye riddle betwixt ym. as before, but heard nothing. And further, yt. ye lady and her nurse bad her deny these things, but did not bid her swear to it.”

For her participation in the affair the young lady Tonderghie, Mrs Janet Blair, was cited before the Session, and having expressed her penitence for being ensnared into such sinful practices, she and Marion Murray subscribed a declaration to be read before the congregation, “abhorring and renouncing all spelles and charmes usual to wizards; and having been rebooked and exhorted to greater watchfulness for the future, they were dismissed.”

The originator of the affair, Malley Redmond, after making her appearance to be “rebooked” before the congregation, was banished the parish. But the execution of the sentence was, through influence, delayed “till Tonderghie younger, his child, should be weaned.”[(33)]

Parish of New Luce.—The only point of interest in connection with the parish of New Luce is that the chief witness against Maggie Osborne, who was burned as a witch at Ayr, was an elder in the Moor Kirk of Luce, to which reference has already been made.

Parish of Whithorn.—An old woman named Elspeth M‘Keand lived on the farm of Palmallet, near Whithorn. On one occasion she was arraigned before the magistrates of Whithorn for some supposed uncannie doings, but the authorities, not endorsing the general belief, set her at liberty. So disappointed and enraged were the community at her liberation that they caught her and inserted a host of new brass pins in her body, and afterwards dragged her down to the shore at Dinnans, holding her below water until life was nearly extinct. The old woman never fairly recovered from this cruel treatment, and when she died her remains were objected to as not being fit to rest in the Kirkyaird.[(34)]

Parish of Kirkmaiden.—In the parish of Kirkmaiden we find a zealous prosecutor of witches in the person of the Rev. Mr Marshall, who was ordained in 1697. He was assisted in his efforts by a woman brought from the town of Wigtown, who was credited with possessing an expert faculty of at once being able to distinguish and pick out witches and warlocks from amongst ordinary mortals, however similar to them in outward appearance.

All the adults in the parish were summoned to attend at the Parish Church on a given date and passed through the church from one door to the other. The minister placed himself in the precentor’s box, with writing materials at his hand, the witch-finder being seated beside him. When witch or warlock passed, the woman tramped on the minister’s toes and the name was at once recorded. A long list was thus made out, and the Kirk-Session afterwards inquired into the charges brought against the various individuals, which proceedings were afterwards inserted in the Session records.

The stigma thus cast upon many families in the district was only removed by influence being brought to bear to destroy by burning the accusing pages of the Session records.

Tradition asserts that retribution at the hands of the Kirkmaiden witches overtook the reverend gentleman, for, taking his accustomed walk from the manse to the church, a hare running out of the churchyard crossed his path, and from that time forward he was never again able to open his mouth in the pulpit of Kirkmaiden Church. He was shortly afterwards translated to Kirkcolm, and though he often visited Kirkmaiden he could never occupy the pulpit, even on the day of Sacramental observance.[(35)]

So late as 1805 a trial took place at Kirkcudbright connected with witchcraft which aroused considerable excitement in the district, creating keen interest as well in legal circles.

This was the trial of “Jean Maxwell,” who was accused of “pretending to exercise witchcraft, sorcery, enchantment, and conjuration, and undertaking to tell fortunes.”

The point which is of note, and calls for accentuation is, that Jean Maxwell was arraigned, not for being a witch, but for the imposition of pretending to possess witch power. This has been commented upon by Professor John Ferguson of Glasgow in his paper, “Bibliographical Notes on the Witchcraft Literature of Scotland” (Publications of the Edinburgh Bibliographical Society, vol. iii., 74 (1899), in which he says: “It will be noticed that Jean is indicted for PRETENDING to exercise witchcraft, etc. In fact, the indictment is made under the Act of George II., cap. 5, which repeals the statutes against witchcraft.... It is an interesting case, as having occurred under the repealing Act.”

The following is the indictment:—

“Jean Maxwell, present prisoner in the Tolbooth of Kirkcudbright, you are indicted at the instance of Robert Gordon, writer in Kirkcudbright, Procurator-Fiscal of the Steward Court of the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright for his Majesty’s interest; that albeit by the Act of Parliament passed in the ninth year of the Reign of King George the Second, Cap. 5th, intituled ‘An Act to repeal the Statute made in the first year of the Reign of James the First, intituled, “An Act against Conjuration, Witchcraft, and dealing with Evil and Witched Spirits;” except so much thereof as repeals an Act of the fifth year of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth, against Conjurations, Inchantments, and Witchcraft.’ And to repeal an Act passed in the Parliament of Scotland in the Ninth Parliament of Queen Mary, intituled ‘Anentis Witchcraft; and for punishing such persons as pretend to exercise or use any kind of Witchcraft, Sorcery, Inchantment, or Conjuration.’ It is enacted ‘That if any person shall from and after the twenty-fourth day of June next, pretend to exercise or use any kind of Witchcraft, Sorcery, Inchantment, or Conjuration, or undertake to tell Fortunes or pretend from his or her skill or knowledge in ocult or crafty science, to discover where or in what manner any goods or chattels supposed to have been lost, may be found; every person so offending being therefore lawfully convicted on Indictment of Information, in that part of Great Britain called England; or on Indictment or Libel, in that part of Great Britain called Scotland, shall for every such offence suffer imprisonment for the space of one whole year without Bail or Mainprize; and once in every quarter of the said year, in some Market Town of the proper County, upon the Market Day there, stand openly on the Pillory for the space of one hour; and also shall (if the Court by which such Judgment shall be given think fit) be obliged to give surety for his or her good behaviour, in such sum, and for such time as the said Court shall judge proper, according to the circumstances of the offence; and in such case shall be further imprisoned until such sureties be given.’

“Notwithstanding of the said Act of Parliament, you, the said Jean Maxwell, are Guilty, Actor, Art and Part of pretending to exercise Witchcraft, Sorcery, Inchantment, and Conjuration; and of undertaking to tell fortunes, &c., &c. (in the manner particularly mentioned in the Deposition of Jean Davidson, hereto annexed). In so far as you the said Jean Maxwell, did, upon Thursday the twenty-seventh, Friday the twenty-eighth, and Saturday the twenty-ninth days of December last, in the year one thousand eight hundred and four, and upon Tuesday the first and Tuesday the eighth days of January last, in the year one thousand eight hundred and five, or upon some one or other of the days or nights of these months, or of the month of November immediately preceding, or of the month of February immediately following, at Little Cocklick, in the Parish of Urr, and Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, pretend to Tell Fortunes by Tea Cups and the grounds of Tea; and did tell to Jean Davidson, Servant to Francis Scott, farmer in Little Cocklick aforesaid, that she would soon bear a Bastard to a certain young man, Hugh Rafferton; which you said you could prevent by certain means. And you, the said Jean Maxwell, caused the said Jean Davidson to rub or anoint her forehead and other parts of her head with a liquid contained in bottle produced by you, which so much intoxicated and disordered the said Jean Davidson that she would have done anything that you the said Jean Maxwell had asked her to do; and you the said Jean Maxwell, availing yourself of the situation that she the said Jean Davidson was in, declared to her that the Devil would speedily appear and tear her in pieces, unless she obeyed you, the said Jean Maxwell, in every particular. And you, the said Jean Maxwell, caused the said Jean Davidson take oaths of Secrecy for the purpose of concealing your wicked and felonious purposes. That on the said twenty-seventh day of December last you, the said Jean Maxwell, caused the said Jean Davidson produce a Guinea Note, which you pretended to hold up in a small bit of paper, putting round it some lint, and stitching in it nine pins, after which you gave it to the said Jean Davidson and ordered her to cast it into the fire, which she did accordingly. And you, the said Jean Maxwell, then ordered the said Jean Davidson to bring one of her shifts and three shillings with it, which you sewed up in the tail of the shift, and said that the shift was to be consumed in the fire, as an Offering to the Devil, who was to appear at the time of the burning of the shift, in the shape of either a Bull or a Swine; and at the same time you, the said Jean Maxwell, gave to the said Jean Davidson a powder sewed up in a piece of fine linen and stuck through with nine pins, which you injoined her to wear at her breast till the day of her death, and tell no mortal of it. That on the said twenty-eighth day of December last you, the said Jean Maxwell, told the said Jean Davidson that the Devil had rejected two sixpences of the money formerly sent him in the tail of the shift; that he insisted in lieu of the sixpences to have two shillings with heads on them; and that he was up and stirring, and must be satisfied; and the said Jean Davidson, having furnished the shillings, you, the said Jean Maxwell, after stamping on the ground twice or thrice with your foot, pretended to hand them to Satan as if he had stood behind you. That on the said twenty-ninth day of December last you, the said Jean Maxwell, declared to the said Jean Davidson that the Devil was still up, and that he must have a man’s shirt of plain linen, and in it a shoulder of mutton; and the said Jean Davidson, terrified by your threats, gave you a check shirt of the said Francis Scott’s, her master, together with a Shoulder of Mutton, also his property, tied up in the shirt; and you the said Jean Maxwell, tied up these articles in your own Budget; and then, telling the said Jean Davidson that all this was insufficient to lay the Devil, you asked her for half-a-crown more; and the said Jean Davidson in confusion and fright gave you a Dollar, which you said would do as well, and that at any rate it must not be taken back being once offered; and then you the said Jean Maxwell, went to the back of the byre at Little Cocklick aforesaid, and returned and told the said Jean Davidson that you had laid the Devil so that he could not come nearer her than the back of the byre, but cautioned her strongly not to travel that way nor farther after it was dark. That on the said first day of January last, you the said Jean Maxwell returned to Little Cocklick aforesaid, and told the said Jean Davidson, that Hugh Rafferton was to be with her on the Thursday ensuing, very lovingly and ready to marry her, or do whatever she should ask of him: and moreover, you the said Jean Maxwell declared that, if the said Jean Davidson used Hugh Rafferton harshly, and refused to marry him, Hugh Rafferton would lose his reason and go stark mad at the end of eight weeks; that in the meantime however you must have another Guinea Note for the Devil, with a faced shilling in it; and the money was furnished by the said Jean Davidson; when you the said Jean Maxwell clipped or pretended to cut the note, in small pieces with scissors, pretending that in this manner it was to be presented to the Devil alongst with the faced shilling. That soon after this, you the said Jean Maxwell, told the said Jean Davidson that the first note was not accepted, and that you must have an Old and very Tattered Note and three Shillings more, which having been furnished by the said Jean Davidson, you the said Jean Maxwell bound up the Note with paper and lint, and having stuck it with nine pins gave it to the said Jean Davidson who threw it into the fire; and you the said Jean Maxwell, after stamping on the ground, handed the three Shillings behind you so that Satan might receive them as you pretended he had received the former presents; that these things being done, you the said Jean Maxwell left the said Jean Davidson at her father’s house at Killymingan, in the Parish of Kirkgunzeon, on the said first day of January last, declaring that Hugh Rafferton should wait on her in deep humility on the Thursday ensuing; and that all the money offered to Satan should be returned into the said Jean Davidson’s Chest on the subsequent Friday morning by sun-rising; and that all should be, and really was, perfectly right. That on the said eighth day of January last you the said Jean Maxwell again waited on the said Jean Davidson, at the house of the said Francis Scott, in Little Cocklick aforesaid, and told that all was gone wrong, that the Devil had proved too strong for you, the said Jean Maxwell, and had rent a check apron given you by the said Jean Davidson formerly for a burnt offering; and you the said Jean Maxwell pretended to show the distinct marks of Satan’s claws, and the mark of his Thumb on your arm, adding, that he could not be laid without the aid of John M‘George, commonly called the ‘Devil-Raiser’ of Urr; and for that end, you the said Jean Maxwell demanded Two Notes more, and three pieces of flesh meat, one of them to be pork, which you professed to roll up at great peril in the check apron; and you the said Jean Maxwell also insisted to have the said Jean Davidson’s duffle cloak, but the said Jean Davidson, having by this time got into the use of her reason, got the better of the terror of the oaths of secresy imposed upon her by the said Jean Maxwell, managed so as to detain you until a Constable was sent for, who took you into Custody and carried you before the Reverend Dr James Muirhead of Logan, one of his Majesty’s Justices of the Peace for the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, in whose presence you emitted a Declaration, upon the ninth day of January last, in the year one thousand eight hundred and five, which Declaration is subscribed by your mark, and by the said Dr James Muirhead, because you declared that you could not write; and the said declaration being to be used in evidence against you the said Jean Maxwell, will in due time be lodged with the Steward Clerk, that you may have an opportunity of seeing the same.

“At least times and place aforesaid, WITCHCRAFT, SORCERY, INCHANTMENT, and CONJURATION, were pretended to be exercised and used, and fortunes were undertaken to be told, all in manner particularly before mentioned; and you the said Jean Maxwell, are Guilty Actor, Art and Part of the said crimes; All which, or part thereof, being found proven by the Verdict of an Assize before the Steward-Depute of the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, and his Substitutes, in a Court to be holden by them or either of them within the Court-House of Kirkcudbright, upon the twenty-first day of June, in the present year one thousand eight hundred and five; you the said Jean Maxwell, Ought to be imprisoned in the Tolbooth of Kirkcudbright by the space of one whole year without Bail or Mainprize; and once in every quarter of the said year, to stand Openly in the Jugs or Pillory, at the Market Cross of the Burgh of Kirkcudbright, by the space of one hour; and to be farther imprisoned in the said Tolbooth, for your good behaviour, in such sum and for such time as the said court shall judge proper, agreeably to the provisions and enactments of the said Act of Parliament, to deter others from committing the like crimes in time coming.”

The Procurator-Fiscal concluded his Proof, and the Steward-Depute remitted the Cause to the Verdict of the Assize.

The persons that passed upon the Assize of the said Jean Maxwell, returned their Verdict to the Court; and the tenor thereof is as follows:—

“At Kirkcudbright, the 21st day of June, 1805, the Assize being enclosed, did make choice of Alexander Melville of Barwhar to be their Chancellor, and William Mure, Factor for the Earl of Selkirk, to be their Clerk; and having considered the Indictment raised at the instance of Robert Gordon, Writer in Kirkcudbright, Procurator-Fiscal of Court for His Majesty’s interest, against Jean Maxwell, present Prisoner in the Tolbooth of Kirkcudbright, the Pannel, with the Interlocutor of the Steward-Depute of the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright thereon, and the whole Proof adduced, they Unanimously Find the said Jean Maxwell Guilty of the Crimes charged against her in the said Indictment. In Testimony, whereof, &c.

(Signed) Alexr. Melville, Chancellor.
(" ) Will. Mure, Clerk.”

(Court adjourned for a week.)

“Kirkcudbright, 28th June, 1805.

“The Steward-Depute having considered the Verdict of the Assize, bearing date the twenty-first day of June current, and returned into Court that day against Jean Maxwell, the Pannel, whereby she is found guilty of pretending to exercise WITCHCRAFT, SORCERY, INCHANTMENT, and CONJURATION, and of undertaking to tell fortunes, contrary to the Enactments and Provisions of the Act of Parliament passed in the 5th year of the Reign of King George the Second, Chapter fifth, in the manner charged against her in the Indictment, at instance of the Procurator-Fiscal of Court; the Steward Depute, in respect of the said Verdict, Decerns and Adjudges the said Jean Maxwell to be carried back from the Bar to the Tolbooth of Kirkcudbright, and to be Imprisoned therein for the space of One Whole Year, without Bail or Mainprize; and Once in every Quarter of the said year to stand openly upon a Market day in the Jugs or Pillory, at the Market Cross of the Burgh of Kirkcudbright, for the space of One Hour, &c.—(Signed) Alexr. Gordon.”

It only remains to be added that this sentence was rigorously carried out.

A small, and now scarce volume, containing a full account of the trial, was published at Kirkcudbright the same year, of which the following is a copy of the title-page:—

REMARKABLE TRIAL
OF
JEAN MAXWELL
THE
Galloway Sorceress:
Which took place at Kirkcudbright
on the twenty-eighth day of June last,
1805:
For Pretending to Exercise
WITCHCRAFT, SORCERY, INCHANTMENT,
CONJURATION, etc.

KIRKCUDBRIGHT:
Printed by Alexander Gordon.
1805.

Proceedings in Dumfriesshire.

Concerning Dumfriesshire there falls to be recorded numerous instances of accusation and trial, which includes the ever-to-be-regretted consummation of fanaticism in this district—the burning of nine unhappy women on the Sands of Dumfries in the year 1659.

Burgh of Dumfries.

Extract from the Dumfries Burgh Treasurer’s Books, May 27th, 1657.—Detailed items of expenditure incurred at the burning of two women convicted of witchcraft: “For 38 load of peitts to burn the two women, £3 12s (Scots). Mair, given to William Edgar for ane tar barrell, 12s; for ane herring barrell, 14s. Given to John Shotrick, for carrying the twa barrells to the pledge (house), 6s. Mair, given to the four officers that day that the whiches was burnt, at the provest and bayillis command, 24s. Given to Thomas Anderson for the two stoups and the two steaves (to which the women were tied), 30s.”[(36)]

Resolution of Kirk-Session of Dumfries, 1658.—The Kirk-Session of Dumfries, after solemn deliberation on the subject, required the minister to announce from the pulpit that all persons having evidence to give against such as were under suspicion of “the heinous and abominable sin of witchcraft,” should be ready to furnish the same to the Session without delay; and at their next meeting the elders wisely qualified the order, by resolving that anyone who charged another with being guilty of “sic devilisch practises,” without due reason, should be visited with the severest discipline of the Kirk.[(37)]