“A’ the hale o’ braid Gallowa’ has heard the story of the drownin’ o’ hale ane-an’-twenty o’ the Morrisons o’ Orr, in the Loch of Edingham, nae farder gane than Yule was a seven year. Ye mind that year the frost held on frae Hallowe’en till Februar, and at Yule the ice was mair than thretty inches in thickness, and wad hae carried a’ the fouk in sax parishes roun’ wi’ perfect safety. On that day mony a weel-fared, sturdy chiel had been busy plying the channelstane, wi’ a’ their skill an’ might, frae early morn, and it was not till the last blinks of the sun had lang disappeared off Brownie Fells that the contest was putten aff till the following day, and ilka ane turned his face homewards. But they hadna ha’en their feet three minutes on the side when the moon glowered o’er the tappin o’ Lotus, and showed the ice they had so lately left, clad wi’ unco players frae side to side; and muckle mirth, din, and deray was there, bumpers o’ the red wine were flowin’ roun’, and there tripped maidens, jimp and tall as yon rowan-trees by the burnie side and fairer than the snow on Logan braes. Swiftly the weary players returned to the margin of the loch, but nane durst venture on the ice for a considerable time. But there were three neibor lairds, in the three Mailins of Culloch, Cocklick, and Drumlane. A’ the three were surnamed Morrison, and ilka ane had seven strapping sons, wha never feared skaith frae man nor deil, and sae they a’ quickly joined the thrang. Bit strange to tell, the very moment the last o’ the ane-an’-twenty was aboon deep water, the ice rent from en’ to en’ wi’ a crack a thousan’ times louder than thunner, and dancers, players, and Morrisons a’ disappeared in the twinkling of an eye, and the ice again resumed its former solidity, without crack or flaw. And mony a time sinsyne has the midnight wanderer observed the loch covered o’er with light-footed dancers, blithely footing it on the limpid wave, and among them the three-times-seven youths, gaily clad in elfin weeds of sylvan green, and mounted on gallant steeds of the milk-white foam. Their spears are of the green bulrashes with targets of the braidest flutterbaus; they ha’e braid swords o’ the segg, and cockades of the water-lily; but they ay tak’ the gate lang or the first peep o’ day, and the place they left retains no the sma’est prent o’ their airie feet, nor nane can tell the gate they fled.”[(55)]
On the sharp descent of the Dalbeattie Road towards Dumfries there yet lingers the tradition of fairy song and music being heard ’mid the leafy surroundings of the Long Wood.
Fairies in Dumfriesshire.
To Allan Cunningham we are indebted for several examples of fairy-lore gathered together in his own particular district of Nithsdale.
The three following illustrate the expression of gratitude on the part of the fairies when a good turn was served, or a request complied with:—
“Two lads were opening with the plow a fairy-haunted field, and one of them had described a circle around a fairy-thorn, which was not to be plowed. They were surprised when, on ending the furrow, a green table was placed there, heaped with the choicest cheese, bread, and wine. He who marked out the thorn sat down without hesitation, eating and drinking heartily, saying, ‘Fair fa’ the hands whilk gie.’ His fellow-servant lashed his steeds, refusing to partake. The courteous plowman ‘thrave,’ said my informer, ‘like a breckan, and was a proverb for wisdom and an oracle of local rural knowledge ever after!’
A woman of Auchencreath, in Nithsdale, was one day sifting meal warm from the mill; a little, cleanly arrayed, beautiful woman came to her, holding out a basin of antique workmanship, requesting her courteously to fill it with her new meal. Her demand was cheerfully complied with. In a week the comely little dame returned with the borrowed meal. She breathed over it, setting it down basin and all, saying aloud, ‘Be never toom.’ The guidwife lived to a goodly age, without ever seeing the bottom of her blessed basin.
A woman, who lived in the ancient Burgh of Lochmaben, was returning late one evening to her home from a gossiping. A little, lovely boy, dressed in green, came to her, saying, ‘Coupe yere dish-water farther frae yere doorstep; it pits out our fire!’ This request was complied with, and plenty abode in the good woman’s house all her days.”[(56)]
The advent of summer was an occasion of special rejoicing on the part of the fairies, and was celebrated by a triumphal march or ride known as the “Fairy Rade,” which was accompanied by much, and brave, display.
The ceremony usually took place on the eve of Roodmas (May 3rd), and the following account is supposed to have been narrated by an old Nithsdale woman to Allan Cunningham:—