Devil in Scotland

THE DEVIL IN SCOTLAND
ower weel, for it was Janet’s; an’ at ilka step that cam’ a
wee thing nearer, the cauld got deeper in his vitals. He
commended his soul to Him that made an’ keepit him;
£and, O Lord,’ said he, ‘give me strength this night to
war against the powers of evil.’
By this time the foot was cornin’ through the passage
for the door; he could hear a hand skirt alang the wa’,
as if the fearsome thing was feelin’ for its way. The
saughs tossed an’ maned thegither, a long sigh cam’
ower the hills, the flame o’ the can’le was blawn aboot;
an’ there stood the corp of Thrawn Janet, wi’ her
grogram goun an’ her black mutch, wi’ the heid aye
upon the shouther, an’ the girn still upon the face o’t—
leevin’, ye wad hae said—deid, as Mr. Soulis weel
kenned—upon the threshold o’ the manse.
It’s a strange thing that the soul of man should be
that thirled into his perishable body; but the minister
saw that, an’ his heart didna break.
She didna stand there lang; she began to move again
an’ cam’ slowly towards Mr. Soulis whaur he stood
under the saughs. A’ the life o’ his body, a’ the strength
o’ his speerit, were glowerin’ frae his e’en. It seemed she
was gaun to speak, but wanted words, an’ made a sign
wi’ the left hand. There cam’ a clap o’ wund, like a cat’s
fuff; oot gaed the can’le, the saughs skreighed like folk;
an’ Mr. Soulis kenned that, live or die, this was the end
o’t.
‘Witch, beldame, devil!’ he cried, T charge you, by
the power of God, begone—if you be dead, to the grave
—if you be damned, to hell.’
An’ at that moment the Lord’s ain hand out o’ the
Heevens struck the Horror whaur it stood; the auld,
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