ee times round the
room. I have known men who were anxious to be admitted into the order
deterred by the thought of thus meeting with the devil at their
initiation.

While staying at Luss lately, I was informed that a mill near to Loch
Lomond had formerly been haunted by the goat demon, and that the miller
had suffered much from its mischievous disposition. It frequently let on
the water when there was no grain to grind. But one night the miller
watched his mill, and had a meeting with the goblin, who demanded the
miller's name, and was informed that it was _myself_. After a trial of
strength, the miller got the best of it, and the spirit departed. After
hearing this, I remembered that the same story, under a slightly
different form, had been told me when a boy in my native village. This
was the story as then told:--A certain miller in the west missed a
quantity of his meal every day, although his mill was carefully and
securely locked. One night he sat up and watched, hiding himself behind
the hopper. After a time, he was surprised to see the hopper beginning
to go, and, looking up, he saw a little manakin holding a little cappie
in his hand and filling it at the hopper. The miller was so frightened
that this time he let him go; but, in a few minutes, the manakin
returned again with his cappie. Then the miller stepped out from his
hiding-place, and said, "Aye, my manakin, and wha may you be, and what's
your name?" To which the manakin, without being apparently disturbed,
replied, "My name is Self, and what's your name?" "My name is Self,
too," replied the miller. The manakin's cappie being by this time again
full, he began to walk off, but the miller gave him a whack with his
stick, and then ran again to his hiding-place. The manakin gave a
terrible yell, which brought from a hidden corner an old woman, crying,
"Wha did it? Wha did it?" The manakin answered, "It was Self did it."
Whereat, slapping the manakin on the cheek, the old woman said, "If Self
did it, Self must mend it again." After this, they both left the mill,
which immediately stopped working. The miller was never afterwards
troubled in this way, and, at the same time, a goat which for
generations had been observed at gloaming and on moonlight nights in the
dell, and on the banks of the stream which drove the mill, disappeared,
and was never seen again.

To meet a sow the first thing in the morning boded bad luck for the day.

If a male cat came into the