Part 4

25th July, 1648.—The confession of Marion Miller, that she had broken the Lords’ day by flyting and washing a piece of cloth, being produced, if she heartily submit to the session of Kilmaurs, they would accept, if she gave signs of repentance.

9th March, 1650.—Compeared Thomas Blair in Kilwinning, who was at the point of excommunication and in sackloth, upon his knees did confess double adultery with ane Bessie Moore in Kilwinning, another with Euphame Maxwell in Dalry. The Presbytery having heard his confession, and considering the atrocity of his crimes, does recommend to the Provost of Irvine to apprehend him, and put him in ward till he be sent to the Justice General, the other parishes to bear burden with the town of Irvine in paying the expense,

7th May, 1650.—Compeared Isobel Miller in Kilmaurs, and charged with having sought a drink to destroy a birth in the womb. She denied it. The Presbytery finding that there were some grounds and probability of the same, appoints the said Isobel to appear in the public place of repentance, in the kirk of Kilmaurs in sackcloth till next Presbytery day, and then the minister to charge her with the presumption, and to specify to the people the cause of her appearing there, and in the meantime she is to appear before the Presbytery next day, that she may hear more of the Presbytery’s mind.

2d July, 1650.—Thomas Blair in Kilwinning having broken ward when he was to be sent to the Justice General for his double adultery, and now fugitive, appointed to have ane public admonition before he be excommunicated.

N. B.—The last minute of Presbytery in the volume from which the above extracts are taken, is the above. The following volumes are lost till the one commencing 17th August, 1687.

THE EARL OF SUFFOLK TO JOHN MURRAY, AFTERWARDS EARL OF ANNANDALE.

SIR,—I have bene with my lord Chaunceler even now to confer with hym concerning the kyngs maiesties busynes in hande. The Aturney was ther, whereby speach yt fell into consederation what company of Lords and counsellors wolde be ther. My Lord Admyrall desyers to be excused; my Lord Touch wyll not be heer; my Lord Stanhop dare not this weather be so long in so cold a place; Mr Secretary Harbert can not, for the Stranguery afflycts hym so; my Lord of Shrewsbery hath bene so yll both of goute and sharpnes of water, as he hath never yet come to this end of the toune; and in truth my lord Chancelor hym selfe is in no case to be at such a busines on fryday. The last day of the tearme may happyly geve more health to some of thes. My lord Chauncelor wyll not have the stay to be for hym yf he dye for yt; therfore I thought fytt to sygnifye thus much. The Lords that are able are all apoynted to assemble at my Lord Chauncelors house to morrowe, wher no dowbt the day wylbe put of vntyll the end of the tearm at the soonest; therfore, Mr Murray, I pray you acquaynt his maiestie with thus much, to the end that my Lords who are apoynted to come away from thence to morrow may stay vntyll the next advertysment, which shalbe presently after ther meeting to morrow at my Lord Chauncelors, wher the dyspatch shalbe made. In hast, from Northampton Howse, Twesday the I of February,

Your loving frend, T. SUFFOLK.

LETTER FROM JAMES VI. TO SIR THOMAS HAMILTON, HIS ADVOCATE,

AFTERWARDS LORD BINING AND EARL OF HADDINGTON, _Containing his Majesty’s Opinions on a curious point of Criminal Law._

ADUCATE housoone the assyse is admittid remember to exhorte and admonishe thame according to my former information writtin with my auin hande and adde thair to hou farre it is against all

lau to admitt a mannis denyall againis his auin preceiding confession in sa farr as he deponis contra suum caput allanerlie speciallie his deposition being freelie geuin without torture and not to the exemaris onlie bot being uillinglie repetit be him self to the erl of marr and sindrie other noble gentlemen be uaye of discourse besydis his causing aprehend and with his auin mouth accusing the deid doer and his brekking uarde thairefter and that ioined uith are other murther and uillfull remaining at the home sensyne and of lait his offers be the bishop of brichen and sindrie others to my self of tua thousande crounis to me and tenn thousande markis to the pairtie and to be baneist the cuntrey during the pairteis will and last nou quhat he lies confest sen his aprehension baith to the bailleis and ministeris of this toune lett thaime selfis beare recorde according to thaire consciences as to my earnistness in this turne as godd sall iudge me it is onlie in respect of the odiousnes of the deid and the infamie that uill redounde to oure haill nation thairthrouch gif sa abominabill a cryme be not als notoriouslie punished.[24]

JAMES R. His Maties. direction xi Martij writtin with his maiesties awin hand.

Indorsed by Lord Binning.

TAM GIFFEN.

ABOUT the middle of the last century, Thomas, or as he was popularly called, “Tam Giffen,” resided, or I may rather say wandered, in the parishes of Kilbirnie, Beith, and Dunlop, as a mendicant. He is reported to have been a stout-built man, of something more than middle age, of a sourish turn of mind; and was in the habit of giving laconic, mysterious answers to those who dared to ask him questions. Much superstition abounded in the country at that time; and “Tam’s” aspect, which was remarkably forbidding, together with his strange disposition, soon attracted the awe-stricken attention of the simple peasantry, who went so far as to call him a _Warlock_. Tam, with the shrewdness of a crafty mind, made use of this folly and superstitious fear for his own aggrandisement; and few, after a time, dared refuse him an alms, from his “uncanny” notoriety. Of the many strange and unaccountable stories still related of him. I will narrate the following:—

“One day when the water of Lugton, which separates the parishes of Beith and Dunlop, was rolling “from bank to brae,” and the holms were in a flooded state, Tam was observed on the opposite bank by some people. Happening to lose sight of him for a few minutes, what was their astonishment to find Tam standing beside them, high and dry! The water, which was full and over-flowing, was more than thirty feet in width, and no bridge nearer than two miles. To the hurried question, how he got across, he quickly replied—”Hoo, I didna come across ata, I was in a hurry, and just came through below it.”

At another time, a remarkably pious man, in the parish of Dunlop, during a high gale of wind, ascended to the roof of his house, which, according to the custom of the time, was of thatch; laid a number of stones and sticks on the roof, to prevent the wind from blowing the thatch away; and while on the roof, according to his own account, a tremendous whirlwind swept round and nearly overthrew him. He mentally ejaculated, “God save me,” and held on by the rigging. His bonnet and wig were blown away—where, he could not tell. Next day, after the storm was abated, he went again on the roof of the house, to mend the damage which had been done. Looking down, he perceived “Tam” standing at the foot of the ladder, and surveying him with a most sinister gaze. “Ye held on weel yesterday,” exclaimed Tam; “gin ye hadna whispered ‘God save me’, we wud ha blawn ye doun, but we took awa your wig and bonnet: gae awa doun tae the well in the meadow, and ye’ll get them lying there, aside the sauch bush.” The man accordingly went, and, in the exact spot, found his wig and bonnet.

An honest blacksmith, one evening, going to weld two pieces of iron together, called on his apprentice, who was reported to be a _heedless_ youth, to come and assist him in beating the iron. After calling once or twice, and receiving no answer, he angrily exclaimed, “I may just as weel cry on Tam Giffen.” “What do ye want,” whispered a voice behind him, which was no other than Tam’s: “I was just fleeing through the air wi’ a wheen o’ them that’s gaun awa to dance in Kilbride kirk-yard the nicht, and I thocht I wad come in an’ see what ye wanted wi’ me.” “Did ye come in at the door,” exclaimed the astonished blacksmith. “No, I just drapped doun the lum—but I maun awa’, or they’ll miss me:” so saying, he instantly disappeared.

At last “Tam” was discovered lying dead on the banks of the Garnock water, near Garrit Linn, in a wild and solitary glen, in the parish of Kilbirnie. According to tradition, he was murdered by the fairies for disclosing some of their secrets. He was buried in Kilbirnie churchyard; and his grave is still pointed out to the curious.

TAM GIFFEN.

Aul’ grannie sat carding her woo by the fire On a caul winter eve; and, as midnicht drew nigher, The bairns gathered roun’ her and quitted their glee To list to a tale: mony aul’ tales had she O’ brownies, an’ spunkies, and wee merry men, That dance in green jackets a’ nicht in the glen, O’ ghosts an’ wild spectres, in aul’ castles grey, That haud their wild revelries till break o’ day.

In a circle aroun her the wee bairnies drew, An’ eerie they leuked at the fire burning blue, Nae whispering was heard when aul’ grannie began Tae tell o’ “Tam Giffen,” the wild warlock man: Lang, lang in the warld won’d warlock Tam, Nae ane could tell frae what kintra he cam, He seemed like a stranger on earth left forlorn, And some said he ne’er in the warld was born.

He wandered the kintra, east, north, south, and west, And gaed aye to ca’ on them wha used him best! Alane in some glen he at morn micht be seen, But nae ane kent whar he micht be or ’twas e’en: Pale, pale was his lank cheek, but dark lowered his brow, An’ his black e’e seemed glancing wi’ unearthly lowe, He lauched at the sorrows that made ithers weep, An’ never was he kent to slumber or sleep.

In through the key hole, or doun through the lum, When the doors were a’ barred, he at midnicht wad come— Or afar in some glen wi’ the bogles wad be, A’ the dead o’ the nicht, haudin’ unholy glee— Or dancing wi’ fairies far ben in the wud, Or sailing in cockle-shells far o’er the flud, Or fleeing wi’ witches awa’ through the air, Or doing dark deeds that I daurna declare.

Wi’ a sly noiseless step butt the house he wud come, And set himsel’ doun by the side o’ the lum, An’ mutter dark words wi’ a strange eldrich soun’, An’ leuk as if something was steerin’ aroun’ Whilk naebody ever could see but himsel’— An’ then to the folk he wud strange stories tell O’ witches and spectres, and grim goblins near, That, flitting in corners, to him did appear.

When a tempest was brewing afar in the sky, There aye was a wildness in Tam Giffen’s eye, An’ awa’ out o’ sicht he wad soon disappear, Crying wark’s to be dune and I daurna bide here; An’ aften wad gude folk in terror declare He rade in the black storm on high in the air, Leading whirlwinds onward o’er valley an’ hill, Working mischief an’ ruin to gude and to ill.

When Tam saw a priest he grew wild as a stirk, And never wad enter the door o’ a kirk: If ony are near him attempted to pray, In a moment Tam Giffen wad vanish away; If ony by chance ever mentioned his name, Soon, soon to their terror and wonder he came, An’ speired what they wanted by calling him there, When he had got business to do in the air.

Ae nicht when a revel o’ goblins had been, Far doun in the glen on the mune-lichted green, Tam shared in their glee, and next morning telt a’ The wonderful things that he heard and he saw; Then the fairies an’ goblins an’ witches did meet By Garrit’s deep linn—a wild, lonely, retreat— An’ wailings were heard on the dread midnicht air, An’ Tam Giffen, next morning, was found lifeless there.

GOOD COUNSEL.

[The following “Good Counsel” by Chaucer, freely modernised, is said to have been composed in his last agonies. In a MS. in the Cotton Library the verses are entitled, “a Ballade made by Giffrey Chaucyer upon his dethe bedde, lying in grete anguysse.”]

Fly from the crowd, and be to virtue true, Content with what thou hast, though it be small; To hoard brings hate; nor lofty things pursue; He who climbs high endangers many a fall. Envy’s a shade that ever waits on fame, And oft the sun that raises it will hide: Trace not in life a vast expensive scheme, But be thy wishes to thy state ally’d. Be mild to others, to thyself severe, So truth shall shield thee or from hurt or fear.

Think not of binding all things to thy will, Nor vainly hope that fortune shall befriend; Inconstant she, but be thou constant still, Whate’er betide, into an honest end. Yet needless dangers never madly brave; Kick not thy naked foot against a nail; Or from experience the solution crave, If wall and pitcher strive which shall prevail. Be in thy cause, as in thy neighbour’s, clear, So truth shall shield thee or from hurt or fear.

Whatever happens, happy in thy mind Be thou, nor at thy lot in life repine; He ’scapes all ill whoso bosom is resign’d; Nor way, nor weather will be always fine: Besides, thy home’s not here—a journey this, A pilgrim thou—then hie thee on thy way; Look up to God—intent on heavenly bliss, Take what the road affords and praises pay: Shun brutal lusts, and seek thy soul’s high sphere, So truth shall shield thee or from hurt or fear.

_Varieties_.

Man to the plough, Wife to the sow, Son to the flail, Daughter to the pail, And your rents will be netted;

But, man tally ho, Daughter piano, Son Greek and Latin, Wife silk and satin, And you’ll soon be gazetted.

A SCENE IN A SCOTCH COURT OF JUSTICE IN 1757.—The Dean of Faculty at that time was Mr Lockhart, afterwards Lord Covington, a man of learning, but of a demeanour harsh and overbearing. It had ever been considered the duty of the chief of the body of advocates, freely elected to preside over them, to be particularly kind and protecting to beginners; but Lockhart treated all who came in contact with him in a manner equally offensive, although he had been engaged in a personal altercation with a gentleman out of court, who threatened to inflict personal chastisement upon him; and there were some circumstances in his domestic life supposed to render his reputation vulnerable. At last, four junior advocates, of whom Wedderburn, afterwards Lord Chancellor Loughborough, was one, entered into a mutual engagement that he among them who first had the opportunity should resent the arrogance of the Dean, and publicly insult him. It was by mere accident that the opportunity occurred to Wedderburn, who certainly made a good use of it. In the very end of July, or beginning of August, 1757, (the exact day I have not been able to ascertain), Wedderburn was opposed in the Inner House as counsel to Lockhart, and was called by him “a presumptuous boy,” experiencing from him even more than his wonted rudeness and superciliciousness. When the presumptuous boy came to reply, he delivered such a personal invective as never was before or since heard at the Scottish bar. A lively impression still remains of its character; but newspaper reporting was then unknown in Edinburgh, and oral tradition has preserved only one sentence of that which probably was the meditated part of the harangue:—“The learned Dean has confined himself on this occasion to vituperation; I do not say that he is capable of reasoning, but if tears would have answered his purpose, I am sure tears would not have been wanting.” Lockhart here started up and threatened him with vengeance. Wedderburn—“I care little, my Lords, for what may be said or done by a man who has been disgraced in his person and dishonoured in his bed.” Lord President Craigie, being afterwards asked why he had not sooner interfered, answered, “because Wedderburn made all the flesh creep on my bones.” But at last his Lordship declared in a firm tone, that “this was language unbecoming an advocate, and unbecoming a gentleman.” Wedderburn, now in a state of such excitement as to have lost all sense of decorum and propriety, exclaimed that “his Lordship had said as a judge what he could not justify as a gentleman.” The President appealed to his brethren as to what was fit to be done, who unanimously resolved that Mr Wedderburn should retract his words and make an humble apology, on pain of deprivation. All of a sudden Wedderburn seemed to have subdued his passion, and put on an air of deliberate coolness; when, instead of the expected retractation and apology; he stripped off his gown, and holding it in his hands before the Judge, he said, “My Lords, I neither retract nor apologise, but I will save you the trouble of deprivation; there is my gown, and I will never wear it more; virtute me involvo.” He then coolly laid his gown upon the bar, made a low bow to the Judges, and before they had recovered from their amazement he left the court, which he never again entered. That very night he set off to London. I know not whether he had any apprehension of the steps which the Judges might have taken to vindicate their dignity, or whether he was ashamed to meet his friends of the Parliament House, but he had formed a resolution, which he faithfully kept, to abandon his native country, and never more to revisit it.—‘Lord Campbell’s Lives of the Chancellors.’

ANTIQUITY OF THE INFLUENZA.—Of this now universally prevailing malady we have (says the ‘Glasgow Constitutional’) the following account, in a letter from Randolph, the English Ambassador at the Court of Mary, Queen of Scots, to Cecil (afterwards Lord Burghley,) dated Edinburgh, 30th November, 1562. “May it please your Honour. Immediately upon the Queen’s arrival here she fell acquainted with a new disease that is common in this town, called the ‘New Acquaintance,’ which passed also through her whole Court, neither sparing lord, lady, nor damsel, nor so much as French or English. It is a pain in their head that have it, and a soreness in their stomachs, with a great cough; it remaineth with some longer, with others shorter time, as it findeth apt bodies for the nature of the disease. The Queen kept her bed six days; there was no appearance of danger, nor many that die of the disease except some old folks. My Lord of Murray is now presently in it, and I am ashamed to say that I have been free of it, seeing it seeketh acquaintance at all men’s hands.” The letter is printed pp. 105-7 of the “Selections from Unpublished Manuscripts Illustrating the reign of Mary Queen of Scotland,” presented to the Maitland Club, in 1837, by the late Mr Kirkman Finlay, of Castle Toward. The last freak of the distemper, according to the ‘Edinburgh Register,’ was the seizure of the master of the Duddingston Mills, and at the same time all his millers, and the mill stood still. To complete the adage that misfortunes never come single, the millers’ wives were almost all ill, and unable to nurse their husbands.

AIR, Oct. 3, 1772.—On the 23d ult. we had one of the most selemn processions of free masons in this place, that I presume ever was made in Scotland. The occasion of it was laying the foundation-stone of the works for improving the harbour. The Earl of Dumfries, Grand Master for Scotland, and upwards of 500 of the brethren, were present. They assembled at the King’s-arms between ten and eleven o’clock forenoon. From thence they went in procession to the church, attended by the Rev. Mess. Dalrymple and M‘Gill, ministers in this place, decently habited in their gowns, with their aprons under them, their hats below their arms as the rest of the company, carrying the Bible open in their hands; violins, and a variety of other music, playing before them. An elegant sermon was there delivered them from Psal. civ. 15. The stone was then presented, when his Lordship applied to it the plumb-rule and the square, and gave it three strokes with the mallet. After that ceremony was performed, it was handed over the quay with ropes, and his Lordship solemnly poured upon it a handful of corn, and a cupful of wine and oil; devoutly lifting up his hands and eyes to heaven, and addressing the Great Architect of heaven and earth, that the place might abound in these articles. This gave occasion to three cheerful huzzas. Then the Rev. Mr M‘Gill, having addressed himself to the brethren, which likewise was followed with three cheers as before, he devoutly prayed; and the whole ceremony was concluded with singing the masons’ anthem.—‘Weekly Magazine.’

JAMES VI. WHEN A BOY.—The celebrated Andrew Melville and his nephew, James, were introduced to the King at Stirling Castle, previous to his entering his ninth year. The following is James Melville’s account of him: “He was the switest sicht in Europe that day, for strange and extraordinar gifts of ingyne, judgment, memorie, and language. I heard him discourse walking up and down in the auld Lady Marr’s hand, of knowledge and ignorance to my grait marvell and astonishment.”—

Footnotes.

Footnote 1:

Donald of the Lakes.

Footnote 2:

Ellen-nan-Gall, an island contiguous to Island Stalker.

Footnote 3:

Green Colin.

Footnote 4:

This is a good axe, Alexander, if you could whittle well with it.

Footnote 5:

Do you think but I can do so.

Footnote 6:

The following is another version of the manner in which Donald was transferred to the protection of the smith. It is rot, however, so consistent with the previous part of the narrative as the first: