Littlemark, a small farm on the Eliock estate, three miles from Sanquhar, was the scene, some two hundred years ago, of the murder of a pedlar, who came into the district with a large and valuable quantity of goods carried on a pack-horse.
The ghost which was supposed to haunt the neighbourhood was curiously enough not that of the pedlar himself, but took the form of the bundle or “pack” itself, moving slowly above and along the ground.
Stories which tell of the visitations and appearances of the ghost of Abraham Crichton, erstwhile Provost of Sanquhar, are to this day well remembered in the district. A merchant in Sanquhar, he seems in life to have been a shrewd and active citizen, with the reputation of being very wealthy. In 1734 he became Provost, succeeding his brother in that office, and also inheriting the possession of Carco. But evil days came, and in 1741 he was declared a bankrupt. The deed which seems chiefly to have marked him out for unrest in the next world was the share he took in the abolition of the services in the old parish church of Kirkbride and of its existence as a separate parish. An actual attempt, at his instigation, to “ding doon the Whigs’ sanctuary,” to use his own expression, was frustrated by Divine intervention—it was said—in the form of a violent storm. The workmen were obliged to desist, and shortly afterwards Abraham met his death by a fall from his horse near Dalpeddar. With this as an introduction, let Dr Simpson continue the story as it is set down in the History of Sanquhar:—“Though declared a bankrupt before his death, the good people of Sanquhar were convinced that he must have somewhere secreted his money, and acted a fradulent part. On this account it was supposed that he could not rest in his grave, and hence the belief of his frequent appearances in the sombre churchyard, to the affrightment of all and sundry who passed near the burying-ground in the evening dusk. The veritable apparition of this worthy was firmly credited by the populace, who were kept in a state of perpetual alarm. Many a maid, with her milk-pail on her head, dashed the whole to the ground when the ghost showed himself at a kirkyard wall, and ran home screaming with affright, and finally fell on the floor in a faint. The exploits of the resuscitated Provost was endless. He assailed all who dared to pass near his resting-place, young and old, men and women. The consternation became universal, the attention of the whole district was directed to the subject, which, indeed, became a topic of discussion throughout the south-west of Scotland. Its merits were discussed also in the Edinburgh forum, and attracted the attention of the learned North Briton, Thomas Rudiman.[47]
At length the matter came to a crisis, and it was found necessary to do something to allay the popular excitement. In those days it was believed that certain sacred charms were effectual in allaying a ghost, and that the charm, whatever it might be, was chiefly to be employed by a minister of the gospel. The next thing, then, was to find a person of this order who had the sanctity and fortitude necessary to accomplish the feat. The individual fixed on was a venerable minister of the name of Hunter, in the parish of Penpont. During the night he went to the churchyard, and on the following day gave out that he had laid Abraham’s ghost, and that in future no person need have the least alarm in passing the churchyard, as he never again would trouble anyone. Mr Hunter’s statement was implicitly believed, and nothing supernatural has since been seen within the ancient burying-ground of Sanquhar. To add to the seeming mystery which Mr Hunter wished to keep up, when questioned on what he had said or done to the spirit he replied, ‘No person shall ever know that.’ In order, however, to prevent all such annoyances for the time coming, and to retain Abraham more effectually within the bounds of his narrow cell, it was deemed prudent to keep down the flat gravestone with a strong band of iron or stout chain. This precaution, it was supposed, would keep the popular mind more at ease.”
To Poldean, in Wamphray, situated at the north-west corner of the parish, on the Annan, about five miles from Moffat, there is a curious old-world ghost reference in Law’s Memorials, edited by Kirkpatrick Sharp. In the narrative, which is here given, Poldean is described as “Powdine in Annandale”:—
“Also in the south-west border of Scotland, in Annandale, there is a house called Powdine belonging to a gentleman called Johnston; that house hath been haunted these fifty or sixty years. At my coming to Worcester, 1651, I spoke with the gentleman (being myself quartered within two miles of the house). He told me many extraordinary relations consisting in his own knowledge; and I carried him to my master, to whom he made the same relations—noises and apparitions, drums and trumpets heard before the last war; yea, he said, some English soldiers quartered in his house were soundly beaten by that irresistible inhabitant.... He tells me that the spirit now speaks, and appears frequently in the shape of a naked arm.”
Three and a half miles north-east of Lochmaben, on the banks of the Annan, stands the turreted ruin of Spedlins Tower, the old home of the Jardines of Applegarth.
Grim, gaunt, and lonely, one of the best accredited ghost legends in the south-west of Scotland lingers round its walls. The story has been told many times, and the version here selected is that of Francis Grose, the antiquary, who described the Tower in his Antiquities of Scotland (1789-91):—
“Spedlins Tower is chiefly famous for being haunted by a bogle or ghost. As the relation will enliven the dullness of antiquarian disquisition, I will here relate it as it was told me by an honest woman who resides on the spot, and who, I will be sworn from her manner, believed every syllable of it. In the time of the late Sir John Jardine’s grandfather, a person named Porteous, living in the parish of Applegarth, was taken up on suspicion of setting fire to a mill, and confined in the lord’s prison, the pit or dungeon, at this castle. The lord being suddenly called to Edinburgh on some pressing and unexpected business, in his hurry forgot to leave the key of the pit, which he always held in his own custody. Before he discovered his mistake and could send back the key—which he did the moment he found it out—the man was starved to death, having first, through the extremity of hunger, gnawed off one of his hands. Ever after that time the castle was terribly haunted till a Chaplain of the family exorcised and confined the bogle to the pit, whence it could never come out, so long as a large Bible, which he had used on that business, remained in the castle. It is said that the Chaplain did not long survive this operation. The ghost, however, kept quietly within the bounds of his prison till a long time after, when the Bible, which was used by the whole family, required a new binding, for which purpose it was sent to Edinburgh. The ghost, taking advantage of its absence, was extremely boisterous in the pit, seeming as if it would break through the iron door, and making a noise like that of a large bird fluttering its wings. The Bible being returned, and the pit filled up, everything has since remained perfectly quiet. But the good woman declared, that should it again be taken off the premises no consideration whatever would induce her to remain there a single night.”
Jardine Hall, the new home of the Jardines, to which the family had removed, is situated on the opposite side of the river Annan, its windows overlooking the old walls of Spedlins Tower. It also was by no means free from a share of the haunting of the dead miller, for during the time the Bible had gone to Edinburgh to be re-bound, the ghost, getting out of the dungeon, crossed the river and presented itself at the new house, making a great disturbance, and actually hauling the baronet and his lady out of bed. Some accounts indeed, say that so terrifying was its behaviour that the unhappy owner of Jardine Hall refused to wait until the Bible was repaired, but recalled it hastily before it reached the Capital, in order that its holy presence might quell the restless spirit and keep it confined to its dungeon.