d
Bell-the-Cat, was in no great favour with a court which had disgraced her
grandfather, and banished her brother; and consequently she found no
protection there from the man who was seeking her ruin. Perhaps, too, she
had mixed herself up with the court feuds and parties then so common, and
thus had given some positive cause of offence to a government which must
crush if it would not be crushed, and extirpate if it would not be
destroyed. Be that as it may, William Lyon soon gathered material for an
accusation, and Lady Glammis found that if she would not have his love he
would have her life. She was accused on various counts; for having
procured the death of her first husband by "intoxication," or unholy
drugging, for a design to poison the king, and for witchcraft generally,
as a matter of daily life and open notoriety; and for these crimes she was
burnt, notwithstanding her beauty and wealth and innocence and
high-hearted bravery, notwithstanding her popularity--for she was beloved
by all who knew her--and the honour of her stainless name. And once more,
as so often, hatred conquered love, and the innocent died that the guilty
might be at rest.

I must omit any lengthened notice of the trial of Janet Bowman in 1572, as
also of that of a notable witch Nicneven, which name, "generally given to
the Queen of the Fairies, was probably bestowed upon her on account of her
crimes, and who, when 'her collore craig with stringis whairon wes mony
knottis' was taken from her, gave way to despair, exclaiming, 'Now I have
no hoip of myself,' saying, too, that 'she cared not whether she went to
heaven or to hell.'" The Record has preserved nothing beyond the mere
fact of the first, while the foregoing extract is all that I can find of
the second; so that I am obliged to pass on to the pitiful tale of--

BESSIE DUNLOP AND THOM REID.[2]

Poor douce honest Bessie Dunlop, spouse to Andro Jak in Lyne, deposed,
after torture, on the 8th day of November, 1576, that one day, as she was
going quietly enough between her own house and Monkcastle yard, "makeand
hevye sair dule with hirself," weeping bitterly for her cow that was
dead, and her husband and child who were lying "sick in the land-ill," she
herself still weak after gissane, or child-birth, she met "ane honest,
wele, elderlie man, gray bairdit, and had ane gray coitt with Lumbart
slevis of the auld fassoun; ane pair of gray brekis and quhyte schankis
gartanit abone the kne; ane