Folk-Lore and Legends | Page 8

he was stolen away from
off the horse at his father's elbow, as they crossed that false and
fearsome water, even Locherbriggflow, on the night of the Midsummer
fair of Dumfries. Ay, ay, who can doubt the truth of that? Have not the
godly inhabitants of Almsfieldtown and Tinwaldkirk seen the sweet
youth riding at midnight, in the midst of the unhallowed troop, to the
sound of flute and of dulcimer, and though meikle they prayed,
naebody tried to achieve his deliverance?'
"'I have heard it said by douce folk and sponsible,' interrupted another,
'that every seven years the elves and fairies pay kane, or make an
offering of one of their children, to the grand enemy of salvation, and
that they are permitted to purloin one of the children of men to present
to the fiend--a more acceptable offering, I'll warrant, than one of their
own infernal brood that are Satan's sib allies, and drink a drop of the
deil's blood every May morning. And touching this lost lad, ye all ken
his mother was a hawk of an uncanny nest, a second cousin of Kate
Kimmer, of Barfloshan, as rank a witch as ever rode on ragwort. Ay,
sirs, what's bred in the bone is ill to come out of the flesh.'
"On these and similar topics, which a peasantry full of ancient tradition
and enthusiasm and superstition readily associate with the commonest
occurrences of life, the people of Corrievale continued to converse till
the fall of evening, when each, seeking their home, renewed again the
wondrous subject, and illustrated it with all that popular belief and
poetic imagination could so abundantly supply.
"The night which followed this melancholy day was wild with wind
and rain; the river came down broader and deeper than before, and the
lightning, flashing by fits over the green woods of Corrie, showed the
ungovernable and perilous flood sweeping above its banks. It happened
that a farmer, returning from one of the border fairs, encountered the
full swing of the storm; but mounted on an excellent horse, and
mantled from chin to heel in a good grey plaid, beneath which he had
the further security of a thick greatcoat, he sat dry in his saddle, and

proceeded in the anticipated joy of a subsided tempest and a glowing
morning sun. As he entered the long grove, or rather remains of the old
Galwegian forest, which lines for some space the banks of the
Corriewater, the storm began to abate, the wind sighed milder and
milder among the trees, and here and there a star, twinkling
momentarily through the sudden rack of the clouds, showed the river
raging from bank to brae. As he shook the moisture from his clothes, he
was not without a wish that the day would dawn, and that he might be
preserved on a road which his imagination beset with greater perils than
the raging river; for his superstitious feeling let loose upon his path elf
and goblin, and the current traditions of the district supplied very
largely to his apprehension the ready materials of fear.
"Just as he emerged from the wood, where a fine sloping bank, covered
with short greensward, skirts the limit of the forest, his horse made a
full pause, snorted, trembled, and started from side to side, stooped his
head, erected his ears, and seemed to scrutinise every tree and bush.
The rider, too, it may be imagined, gazed round and round, and peered
warily into every suspicious-looking place. His dread of a supernatural
visitation was not much allayed when he observed a female shape
seated on the ground at the root of a huge old oak-tree, which stood in
the centre of one of those patches of verdant sward, known by the name
of 'fairy rings,' and avoided by all peasants who wish to prosper. A long
thin gleam of eastern daylight enabled him to examine accurately the
being who, in this wild place and unusual hour, gave additional terror
to this haunted spot. She was dressed in white from the neck to the
knees; her arms, long and round and white, were perfectly bare; her
head, uncovered, allowed her long hair to descend in ringlet succeeding
ringlet, till the half of her person was nearly concealed in the fleece.
Amidst the whole, her hands were constantly busy in shedding aside
the tresses which interposed between her steady and uninterrupted gaze
down a line of old road which wound among the hills to an ancient
burial-ground.
"As the traveller continued to gaze, the figure suddenly rose, and,
wringing the rain from her long locks, paced round and round the tree,
chanting in a wild and melancholy manner an equally wild and

delirious song.
THE FAIRY OAK OF CORRIEWATER.
The small bird's head is under its