ed, for which Bessie Hay gave her a great cuff:
also Margaret Brodie, when she shot at Mr. Harie Forbes, the minister at
Auldearne, he being by the standing stanes; whereupon she asked if she
should shoot again, but the devil answered, "Not! for we wold nocht get
his lyf at that tym." Finding the elf-arrows useless against Mr. Harie
Forbes, they tried charms and incantations once when he was sick. They
made a bag, into which they put the flesh, entrails, and gall of a toad, a
hare's liver, barley grains, nail pairings, and bits of rag, steeping all
in water, while Satan stood over them, saying--and they repeating after
him--

"He is lying in his bed, and he is seik and sair,
Let him lye in till that bedd monthes two and dayes thrie mair!
He sall lye in till his bed, he salbe seik and sair,
He sall lye in till his bedd, monthes two and dayes thrie mair!"

When they said these words they were all on their knees with their
hair about their shoulders and eyes, holding up their hands to
the devil, beseeching him to destroy Mr. Harry; and then it was
decided to go into his chamber and swing the bag over him. Bessie
Hay--Able-and-Stout--undertook this office, and she went to his room,
being intimate with him, the bag in her hands and her mind set on slaying
him by its means; but there were some worthy persons with him at the time,
so Bessie did no harm, only swung a few drops on him which did not kill
him. They had a hard taskmaster in the devil--Black Johnnie, as they used
to call him among themselves. But he used to overhear them, and would
suddenly appear in the midst of them, saying, "I ken weill anewgh what ye
wer saying of me," and then would beat and buffet them sore. He was always
beating them, specially if they were absent from any of the meetings, or
if they forgot anything he had told them to do. Alexander Elder was being
continually thrashed. He was very soft and could never defend himself in
the least, but would cry and scream when the devil scourged him. The women
had more pluck. Margaret Wilson--Pickle-nearest-the-wind--would defend
herself finely, throwing up her hands to keep the strokes from her; and
Bessie Wilson--Throw-the-corn-yard--"would speak crusty with her tongue
and would be belling against him soundly." He used to beat them all up and
down with scourges and sharp cords, they like naked ghosts crying, "Pity!
pity! mercy! mercy, our Lord!" But he would have neither pity nor mercy,
but would