The Glaistig of this castle made herself very useful. The family washing had only to be left for her at night and it was done before morning. Glimpses of her were seen in the evening on her way up to the castle. During the night she tidied up the house and swept the floors. The fool (amadan) attached to the castle was taken under her special protection, and he often had his meat clean when others had it full of ‘stour.’
AT MEARNAIG CASTLE.
This ancient ruin is on the summit of a conical rock, above a hundred feet high, close to the shore, in Glen Sanda, on the Kingerloch coast. About three or four hundred feet from it there is a beautiful and curious echo. A call of eight or nine syllables is distinctly repeated from the castle after the speaker has ceased. The only reminiscence of the castle’s former tenants is the call usually given, when rousing the echo, “Are you in, maiden?” (Am bheil thu stigh a mhaighdean?) The maiden is the tutelary Glaistig that haunted all such buildings.
IN STRATHGLASS.
The Gruagach or Glaistig that haunted the house of Mac ’ic Alasdair (the patronymic of the chiefs of Glengarry), in Strathglass, was never seen, but was commonly heard at night putting dishes in order. She was given, like many of her sort in the old hospitable Highland days, to leading strangers astray through the house. A shepherd from Morvern came some forty years ago to the neighbourhood, and the Glaistig took a great fancy to staying with him. He suffered a great deal of annoyance from her, though no ultimate loss. If he left his jacket on the paling (staing) to dry, it might be away the first time he went to look for it, but the next time he might, and ultimately would, find it all safe. At times cheese disappeared for a while from the ‘amry.’ At night the shepherd felt the coverlet being hauled off, and heard the Glaistig giggling, with a short sort of laugh, hĭ, hĭ, hĭ.
He might leave their calves all night with the two cows he owned, the Glaistig kept them from sucking. Before being reconciled to her he tried to keep her away by putting the New Testament above the door and round the walls, but without effect. A party of young men came one evening to hear the mysterious noises. They saw and heard nothing till they were going away. The pot was then lifted off the fire without any visible agency and left on the floor; while they themselves had their eyes nearly knocked out at the door with tough clods from the marsh (pluic ruighinn réisg).
AT LIANACHAN.
A strong man of the name of Kennedy or MacCuaric,[50] residing at Lianachan in Lochaber, was coming home in the evening from setting a salmon net in the river when a Glaistig met him on the bank of the stream. He locked his arms round her (ghlas e lamhun), took her with him to the house, and would not let her go till she built for him a large barn of six couples (sia suidheachun). This she did in one night. As her parting gift she left a blessing and a curse to the MacCuarics, that they should grow like rushes but wither like ferns. This proved to be the case—the man’s family grew up tall, and straight, and handsome, but when they attained their full strength and growth they wasted prematurely away.
The following is a close translation of a much fuller and slightly different version of the legend (see volume of Gaelic poems called An Duanaire, p. 123). The Gaelic is not given as the volume is easily accessible. It is a pity that the author of the piece, if known to the collector, is not given.
“One night the big black lad MacCuaric was going home from the smithy; the Glaistig met him as he was crossing Curr at the ford of Croisg: