Part 31

Particular reference to this custom in the town of Dumfries is given in the Itinerary of John Ray, naturalist, who visited the town in August, 1662:--

"Here (he says) ... we observed the manner of their burials, which is this: when anyone dies the sexton or bellman goeth about the streets, with a small bell in his hand, which he tinkleth all along as he goeth, and now and then he makes a stance, and proclaims who is dead, and invites the people to come to the funeral."

On the day of the funeral it was again customary for the "beadle" to ring the bell, walking in front of the funeral procession ringing it as he went. This is also noticed by Ray, who notes that "The people and ministers ... accompany the corpse to the grave ... with the bell before them." This usage has passed to a form, common enough to this day, particularly in the country, of tolling the church bell as the funeral cortège approaches the churchyard.

In the scarce Book of Galloway it is recorded how "the beadle had rung the 'passing bell on the bellknowe of Penninghame,' and it was heard again when the mourners approached the graveyard."

The ringing of the "dead bell" had its origin in the superstitious idea that by this means evil spirits were held at bay.

CHAPTER VII.

GHOST LORE AND HAUNTED HOUSES.

"There are many ghost stories which we do not feel at liberty to challenge."--Sir Walter Scott.

Passing now to gather up the details of superstitious vestige as they present themselves in the form of ghost traditions and memories of ghost-haunted houses, we find in the district of Dumfries and Galloway much of interest to set forth.

Traversing from Western Galloway to Eastern Dumfriesshire, gleaning as we go, the legend connected with Dunskey Castle, which yet in ruined solitude stands sentinel over the rock-bound shore and restless sea at Portpatrick, first calls for mention.

The story goes back to the occupation of the Castle in the fourteenth century by Walter de Curry, a turbulent sea rover, who, becoming much incensed at the outspoken and fearless utterances of an Irish piper whom he had taken prisoner and compelled to his service as minstrel and jester, condemned the unfortunate man to a lingering death from starvation in the Castle dungeons.

Tradition asserts, however, that the piper found his way into a secret subterranean passage leading from the Castle to a cave on the sea-shore, from which, however, he was unable to find egress, and where he perished miserably.

Along this passage the troubled ghost of the piper was long reputed to march, backwards and forwards, playing the weirdest of pipe music, and so indicating, as was firmly believed, to the awe-stricken listeners above, the line of direction of the secret underground passage.

Perhaps the best-known Galloway ghost story is that of the Ghost of Galdenoch Tower, in the parish of Leswalt. The Tower was at one time the property of the Agnews of Galdenoch, but falling on evil days their name disappeared from the roll of proprietors, when it was used as a farm-house. For this, however, it was given up, for no other reason than that it was firmly believed to be haunted. The tradition as told by Sir Andrew Agnew is as follows:--

"A scion of the house had fought in one of the battles for the Covenant, and after a defeat had craved food and shelter at a house near the scene of the disaster. He was admitted by the owner, a rough blustering fellow of Royalist leanings, who allowed him to share in the family supper; and after a long crack over the incidents of the day, let him make up a bed by the ingle-side fire. The young soldier rose early, and was in the act of leaving when his host barred his access to the door, grumbling that he doubted whether he had been on the right side the day before. Convinced that he meant to detain him, the youth produced his pistol and shot his entertainer dead; then rushing to the stables, saddled up, and made his way to the west.

Arrived safely at the Galdenoch, the fatted calf was killed, and having fought all his battles over again round the family board, he went to bed. But hardly had the lights been extinguished in the tower than strange sounds announced a new arrival, which proved to be the ghost of the slain malignant, who not only disturbed the repose of his slayer, but made life unendurable to all within.

Nightly his pranks continued, and even after a change of owners the annoyance was continued to the new tenant and his family. One cold winter's night they sat round the kitchen fire playing a well-known game. A burning stick passed merrily from hand to hand:

'About wi' that! about wi' that! Keep alive the priest-cat!'

The spark was extinguished, and the forfeit was about to be declared, when one of the party, looking at the hearth, which was now one brilliant mass of transparent red, observed, 'It wadna be hannie to steal a coal the noo;' but hardly were the words out of his mouth when a glowing peat disappeared as if by magic, leaving as clear a vacuum in the fire as when a brick is displaced from a solid archway. 'That beats a',' was re-echoed through the wondering group; and but a few moments elapsed before there was a cry of 'Fire' and the farm-steading was in flames. In the thatch of the barn that identical 'cube of fire' was inserted, and no one doubted that it had been done by the ghost. The range of buildings was preserved with difficulty by the united exertions of the party.

The tenant's mother sat one morning at her spinning-wheel; an invisible power bore her along, and plunged her in the Mill-Isle burn, a voice mumbling the while, 'I'll dip thee, I'll draw thee,' till the old dame became unconscious. Great was the surprise of the family at dinner-time when grandmamma was missed. Every corner of the buildings was searched. The goodman and his wife became alarmed, while the lads and lassies ran madly about interrogating one another with 'Where's granny?' At last a well-known voice was heard--'I've washed granny in the burn, and laid her on the dyke to dry!' Away the whole party ran; and sure enough the poor old woman lay naked on the dyke, half dead with cold and fright.

Several of the neighbouring clergymen tried to lay this ghost, but all in vain. If they sang, the ghost drowned the united efforts of the company. Eventually, however, it was laid by the Rev. Mr Marshall of Kirkcolm, already referred to as a zealous prosecutor of witches, by the almost unclerical method of roaring and shouting it down."(79)

On the confines of Stoneykirk parish, in the Moor of the Genoch, there is a plantation locally known as "Lodnagappal Plantin'," concerning which report tells of an apparition in the form of a headless woman who almost invariably carried a light for the dire purpose of luring the unwary to death in the treacherous moss-holes so numerous in the neighbourhood.

Fuller details are available of yet another "white woman" and her unwelcome methods. Early last century, when the mail packet crossed from Portpatrick to Ireland, a carrier, who lived at High Ardwell, regularly journeyed backwards and forwards to Portpatrick to bring supplies for the district. On his way home he was more than once alarmed and troubled by a woman in white, who stopped his horse and even caused his cart to break down. Once, indeed, the horse was so affected that it became quite incapable of moving the load, compelling the carrier in great distress to unyoke, and, mounting the horse, to make for home. His fears were not much lessened by finding that the white lady was seated behind him.

The appearances of the ghost became more frequent as time went on, and eventually the white woman manifested a desire to embrace the carrier, indicating that if he yielded even only to listen once to her whispered devotion he might be freed altogether from future interference. The carrier, after a good deal of doubt and hesitation, at last yielded, but, wishing to have some substantial barrier between himself and his ghostly lover, stipulated that she should come to the little back-window of his cottage on a particular night. The appointed time came, but the carrier, still very doubtful, had planned accordingly. Cautiously and partially was the window opened. The white figure was there. Bending down to what appeared to be the man's face--but what was really the skull of a horse held towards her--there was a swift savage thrust of the ghostly face and half of the protruding horse's skull was severed. Thwarted in this unexpected way, the evil spirit slunk away, muttering "Hard, hard, are the banes and gristle of your face!" At least that is what the tradition tells.

Another tale concerns Auchabrick House, in Kirkmaiden, not far from Port Logan. The usually accepted story is pretty much as follows: The troth of a young lady of the house was plighted to a young gentleman whose fortune was not quite equal to his rank in life. It was the days of privateering, and to amass some means the young fellow joined an enterprise of this kind, and was fortunate enough to find himself aboard a superior and successful vessel.

Whilst abroad he sent home to the lady of his heart a silk dress and a considerable sum of money. These, however, fell into the hands of an unscrupulous brother, who appropriated them to his own use. Perplexed at not receiving news from home and acknowledgment, the lover wrote again and again, but the letters were always intercepted by the brother.

Disaster came, and the wanderer never reached home to learn the true state of matters, but his ghost came to haunt the place. Fasten the doors as securely as they might, it always obtained an entry, and the scratch of a ghostly pen was heard writing and rewriting the stolen letters. Different plans were tried to relieve this eerie state of affairs. On one occasion a Bible was placed behind the door through which the ghost seemed to pass, but this was followed by terrifying and distracting noises, while the house itself was shaken as if by storm and gale.

It was also believed that the semblance of the ship on which the wanderer pursued his calling as a privateer was at times seen to sail along a field above the house.