74 



RELICS OF POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS. 



desolate old age, felt rather clieered than startled by a communi- 

 cant from the world she was approaching. Her youth had been 

 familiar with all the tales and ballads that poetic superstition had 

 preserved in the beginning of this century; and she rested with 

 too firm behef on the legends of Nic Nevin, Ked Cap, Brownie, 

 Merlin the Wild, and others, to doubt the existence of beings, 

 partly human and partly aerial, according to the system of Celtic 

 elves. And this Tam Len, or Thoraline, well deserved the appel- 

 lation of " good neighbour," by which such spirits are distinguish- 

 ed, as, since he had visited Dunduffle, her garden had grown fer- 

 tile, her stock of goats had increased, and every week a spade, a 

 wooden keg, or some small article of useful manufacture had been 

 added to her hut. It is true, the produce of her garden was not 

 all consumed by herself ; the supernumerary goats were found in 

 her little enclosure of rocks in a frighted and fatigued state, as if 

 they had been "lifted" in an ordinary way, and were often milked 

 by other hands. But the giver was a harmless elf ; his visits were 

 short, and his close suit of seeming green leather, such as Tam 

 Len has always worn, never met her touch. Mause ate her meal- 

 puddings in peace, and wisely asked nothing : nor did the Green 

 Spirit addiess any counsel to her till the night before Hallowe'en. 

 On that night his visit was shorter, and his command awful. " To- 

 morrow," said he, " thou wilt need a basket of hemp-stalk and a 

 hood of wool. Take thy place under the Imp tree where four 

 waters meet, and thou shalt hear my brethren pass. See that 

 thou speakest not, but when the fifth shall go by, take what he 

 giveth thee." Thomline, or Tam, departed as he spoke ; and 

 Mause, with some fearful recollection of the mischiefs performed 

 on such occasions in Glenfinlas and Liddesdale, began to hesitate 

 between curiosity and religion. She was the grand-daughter of 

 Marion Weir, one of the heroines commemorated in the dismal 

 days of Cameronian frenzy ; and her faith in goblins was equal 

 to her trust in the armour of truth. She had heard all the mys- 

 terious tales of supernatural agents sacrificed by John Knox's 

 pen ; and concluded, finally, that her acquiescence would be no 

 profane or dangerous trial. On the eve of Allhallows, Avhich has 

 ever been the jubilee of fairies. Gay Carline set forth to the dis- 

 tant glen where the four waters met, an incident favourable to 

 their revels, and seating herself in her blue cloak with her basket 

 of holy hemp-stalk, awaited the procession. It came, but not as 



