ON BAUGH, TIREE.
The tenants of this farm once got the benefit of seven years’ superintendence of their cattle from a Glaistig. There is a place on the farm, still called the Glaistig’s Bed, where she died by falling in the gap of a dyke. She was seldom seen, but was often heard. When driving the horses to pasture, she called out, “Get along, get along, thou son of a mare! Betake thee to yonder white bank!” and when the herd-boy was at his dinner, she was heard shouting to the cattle, “Horo va ho whish! Did ever any one hear of cattle without a herdsman but these?” She prepared food for herself by dragging a bunch of eels (of which there is an over-abundance in the small lochs on the farm) through the fire-place of a kiln used for preparing corn for the hand-mill. One night, when engaged at this work along with Goean (i.e. a perky little fellow), her son as is supposed, some one came behind and gave her a rap on the head with a stick. She and her son fled, and as they were going away, Goean was overheard saying to his mother, “Your old grey pate has been rapped, but see that you have the bunch of eels.”
In appearance, this Glaistig is said to have been a thin sallow-looking little object, with ringletted yellow hair that reached down to her heels. She had short legs, and in person was not unlike a dwarf.
AT STRONTIAN.
An incident similar to that of the bunch of eels is told of a Glaistig that came at nights and worked in the smithy at Strontian. The smith was very much annoyed at the noises in the smithy at night, and at finding in the morning tools mislaid and the smithy in confusion. He resolved to stay up and find out the cause. He stood in the dark, behind the door, with the hammer on his shoulder ready to strike whatever should enter. The Glaistig came to the door, accompanied by her bantling, or Isein (i.e. a young chicken). The chicken thought he heard a noise, and said, “Something moving, little woman.” “Hold your tongue, wretch,” she said, “it is only the mice.” At this point the smith struck the old one on the head with his hammer, and caught hold of the little one. On this, the Isein reproached his mother by saying, “Your old grey pate has got a punching; see now if it be the mice.” Before the smith let his captive go, the Glaistig left a parting gift—that the son should succeed the father as smith in the place till the third generation. This proved to be the case, and the last was smith in Strontian some forty years ago.
ON HIANISH, TIREE.
About a hundred years ago one of the tenants of this farm, which adjoins Baugh, wondering what made his cows leave the fank (or enclosure) every night, resolved to watch. He built a small turf hut near the fold to pass the night in, and sat mending his curain (shoes or mocassins of untanned hides), when a woman came to the door. Suspicious of her being an earthly visitant, he stuck his awl in the door-post to keep her out. She asked him to withdraw the awl and let her in, but he refused. He asked her questions which much troubled him at the time. He was afraid of a conscription, which was then impending, and he asked if he would have to go to the army. The Glaistig said he would; that though he made a hole in the rock with his awl and hide himself in it, he would be found out and taken away, but if he succeeded in mounting a certain black horse before his pursuers came, he might bid them defiance; and he was to tell the wife who owned the white-faced yellow cow to let the produce of the cows home to their master. The man was caught when jumping on the back of the black horse to run away from the conscription, and after service abroad, came back to tell the tale.
IN ULVA.
The Glaistig of Ardnacallich, the residence of the Macquarries of Ulva, used to be heard crying “Ho-hò! ho-hò! Macquarries’ cattle are in the standing corn near the cave! The bald girl has slept! the bald girl has slept! ho-hò, ho-hò.” The ‘bald girl’ was no doubt a reference to her own plentiful crop of hair.