NORTHERN MEMOIRS. 155 



standing his breathings forth of a formal penance, 

 lamenting his unfortunate, unlucky mischance, 

 that threatned his exit, if no more priests in 

 Scotland. So in a fainting fit, he faintly cries 

 out with an articulate voice, because his breath 

 began now to expire, which certainly had in a 

 very short time extinguished, had not the inha- 

 bitants pursued the ecchoes to that dismal pit 

 where the priest lay bogg'd; imploring the Deity, 

 with eyes and hands held up towards heaven, 

 using these and the like expressions, Ex pro- 

 funditatibus te inclamavi, Jehova. And though 

 the people understood not his Latin, yet their le- 

 nity and common charity, with other requisite 

 endeavours, brought him relief, and hal'd him 

 forth out of his formidable confinement. Since 

 which remarkable time, to this very day, the na- 

 tives and inhabitants that inhabit thereabouts, 

 do call this moor by the name of Tipprofin. 



Theoph. Why then it seems he christned the 

 moor. 



Arn. And you seem here to christen the priest, 

 for the priest gave name to the moor of Tippro- 

 fin ; and the witches (if there be such) gave name 

 to Pitloil ; as if priestcraft and witchcraft were 

 inseparable companions. 



Theoph. What's amiss now at the Lough of 

 Pitloil ? 



Arn. You shall have it when I can come at 



