How then was the Devil drest?
He was in his Sunday’s best;
His coat was red, and his breeches were blue,
With a hole behind, where his tail came through.
Over the hill, and over the dale,
And he went over the plain:
And backward and forward he switched his tail,
As a gentleman switches his cane.
Coleridge.
About this time[[8]] there arose a great sough and surmise that some loons were playing false with the kirkyard, howking up the bodies from their damp graves, and hurling them away to the college. Words canna describe the fear, and the dool, and the misery it caused. All flocked to the kirk yett; and the friends of the newly buried stood by the mools, which were yet dark, and the brown, newly-cast divots, that had not yet ta’en root, looking with mournful faces, to descry any tokens of sinking in.