Folktales of Water Spirits, Kelpies, and Selkies

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 WATER-SPIRITS.

Influence of Scenery—Science and Superstition—Loch-nan-Spoiradan—

Lochan-nan-Deann—Lochan-Wan and its Sacrifice—Jenny Greenteeth
—Poetry and Superstition—Tweed and Till—Dee and Don—Folk-
practices for Finding a Drowned Body—Deeside Tradition—Salt used
by Tweed Fishers for Good Luck—Guardian-Spirit of Conan—Peg
Powler—Water-kelpies—Nikr—Halliwell Boggle—Robin Round Cap
—Round Hole, near Flamborough—Aberdeenshire Kelpy Legends—
Some Sutherland Kelpies—Story about an Islay Kelpy—Mermaids in
the North.

“ONE of the great charms of Highland landscape is the gleam of still water
that so often gives the element of repose in a scene of broken cliff and
tumbled crag, of noisy cascade and driving cloud. No casual tourist can fail
to notice what a wonderful variety of lakes he meets with in the course of
any traverse he may take across the country. Among the higher mountains
there is the little tarn nestling in a dark sunless corry, and half-encircled
with grim snow-rifted crags. In the glen, there is the occasional broadening
of the river into a lake that narrows again to let the stream rush down a
rocky ravine. In the wider strath there is the broad still expanse of water,
with its fringe of wood and its tree-covered islets. In the gneiss region of the
North-West, there is the little lochan lying in its basin of bare rock and
surrounded with scores of others all equally treeless and desolate.” So
writes Professor Sir A. Geikie in his “Scenery of Scotland” His point of
view is that of a scientific observer, keenly alive to all the varied
phenomena of nature. But amid the scenes described lived men and women
who looked at the outer world through the refracting medium of
superstition. They saw the landscape, but they saw also what their own
imagination supplied. In Strathspey, is a sheet of water bearing the Gaelic
name of Loch-nan-Spoiradan or the Lake of Spirits. What shape these
spirits assumed we do not know, but there was no mistake about the form of
the spirit who guarded Lochan-nan-Deaan, close to the old military road
between Corgarff and Tomintoul. The appearance of this spirit may be
gathered from the Rev. Dr. Gregor’s remarks in an article on “Guardian
Spirits of Wells and Lochs” in “Folklore” for March, 1892. After describing
the loch, he says, “It was believed to be bottomless, and to be the abode of a
water-spirit that delighted in human sacrifice. Notwithstanding this blood-
thirsty spirit, the men of Strathdon and Corgarff resolved to try to draw the
water from the loch, in hope of finding the remains of those that had
perished in it. On a fixed day a number of them met with spades and picks
to cut a way for the outflow of the water through the road. When all were
ready to begin work, a terrific yell came from the loch, and there arose from
its waters a diminutive creature in shape of a man with a red cap on his
head. The men fled in terror, leaving their picks and spades behind them.
The spirit seized them and threw them into the loch. Then, with a gesture of
defiance at the fleeing men, and a roar that shook the hills, he plunged into
the loch and disappeared amidst the water that boiled and heaved as red as
blood.” Near the boundary, between the shires of Aberdeen and Banff, is a
small sheet of water called Lochan-wan, i.e., Lamb’s Loch. The district
around is now a deer forest, but at one time it was used for grazing sheep.
The tenants around had the privilege of pasturing a certain number of sheep.
Dr. Gregor says, “Each one that sent sheep to this common had to offer in
sacrifice, to the spirit of the loch, the first lamb of his flock dropped on the
common. The omission of this sacrifice brought disaster; for unless the
sacrifice was made, half of his flock would be drowned before the end of
the grazing season.” As in the case of Lochan-nan-Deaan, an attempt was
made to break the spell by draining the loch, but this attempt, though less
tragic in its result, was equally unavailing. On three successive days a
channel was made for the outflow of the water, but each night the work was
undone. A watch was set, and at midnight of the third day hundreds of small
black creatures were seen to rise from the lake, each with a spade in his
hand. They set about filling up the trench and finished their work in a few
minutes. Mr. Charles Hardwick, in “Traditions, Superstitions, and
Folklore,” published in 1872, tells of a folk-belief, prevalent in the North of
England, particularly in Lancashire. “I remember well,” he says, “when
very young, being cautioned against approaching to the side of stagnant
pools of water partially covered with vegetation. At the time, I firmly
believed that if I disobeyed this instruction a certain water ‘boggart’, named
Jenny Greenteeth, would drag me beneath her verdant screen and subject
me to other tortures besides death by drowning.”
Poetry and superstition regard external nature from the same standpoint,
in as much as both think of it as animate. But there is a difference. The one
endows nature with human qualities, and knows that it does so through the
imagination; the other does the same, and believes that there is no
imagination in the matter. The work of the former is well expressed by Dr.
E. B. Tylor, when he observes, “In all that water does, the poet’s fancy can
discern its personality of life. It gives fish to the fisher and crops to the
husbandman, it swells in fury and lays waste the land, it grips the bather
with chill and cramp and holds with inexorable grasp its drowning victim.”
That rivers were monsters hungering, or perhaps, one should say, thirsting,
for human victims is a fact borne witness to by poetry as well as by
superstition. An example of this occurs in the following popular rhyme
connected with the Scottish Border:—
“Tweed said to Till,
‘What gars ye rin sae still’?
Till said to Tweed,
‘Though ye rin wi’ speed,
An’ I rin slaw,
Yet whare ye droon ae man,
I droon twa.’”

Some Aberdeenshire lines have the same theme:—

“Bloodthirsty Dee
Each year needs three;
But bonny Don,
She needs none.”

According to folklore, there is no doubt that rivers are “uncanny.” Beneath

their rippling surface dwells a being who keeps a lookout for the unwary
traveller and seeks to draw him into the dark depths. A belief in such a
being is not always explicitly avowed. But there are certain folk-practices
undoubtedly implying it. When anyone is drowned in a river, the natural
way to find the body is to drag the stream in the neighbourhood of the
accident. But superstition has recourse to another method. A loaf of bread,
with or without quicksilver in it, is placed on the surface of the water and
allowed to drift with the current. The place where the loaf becomes
stationary marks the spot where the body lies concealed. According to
another method, a boat is rowed up and down the stream, and a drum is beat
all the time. When the boat passes over the resting place of the body the
drum will cease to sound. This was done in Derbyshire no longer ago than
1882, in order to find the corpse of a young woman who had fallen into the
Derwent. In such practices there is a virtual recognition of a water-spirit
who can, by certain rites, be compelled to give up his prey, or at any rate to
disclose the whereabouts of the victim. A Deeside tradition supplies a good
illustration of this. A man called Farquharson-na-Cat, i.e., Farquharson of
the Wand, so named from his trade of basketmaking, had on one occasion to
cross the river just above the famous linn. It was night. He lost his footing,
was swept down into the linn, and there drowned. Search was made for his
body, but in vain. His wife, taking her husband’s plaid, knelt down on the
river’s brink, and prayed to the water-spirit to give her back her dead. She
then threw the plaid into the stream. Next morning her husband’s corpse,
with the plaid wrapped round it, was found lying on the edge of the pool.
Till quite lately, fishing on the Tweed was believed to be influenced by the
fairies of the river. Salt was thrown into the water, and sprinkled on the nets
to insure a plentiful catch of fish. This was really the offering of a sacrifice
to the river-spirits.
Frequently the guardian of the flood appeared in distinctly human shape.
An excellent example of this is to be found in Hugh Miller’s “My Schools
and Schoolmasters” where a picturesque description is given of the spirit
haunting the Conan. Hugh Miller was an expert swimmer, and delighted to
bathe in the pools of that Ross-shire stream. “Its goblin or water-wraith, he
tells us, “used to appear as a tall woman dressed in green, but distinguished
chiefly by her withered, meagre countenance, ever distorted by a malignant
scowl. I knew all the various fords, always dangerous ones, where of old
she used to start, it was said, out of the river before the terrified traveller to
point at him as in derision with her skinny finger, or to beckon him
invitingly on; and I was shown the very tree to which a poor Highlander
had clung when, in crossing the river by night, he was seized by the goblin,
and from which, despite of his utmost exertions, though assisted by a young
lad, his companion, he was dragged into the middle of the current, where he
perished. And when in swimming at sunset over some dark pool, where the
eye failed to mark, or the foot to sound, the distant bottom, the twig of some
sunken bush or tree has struck against me as I passed, I have felt, with
sudden start, as if touched by the cold, bloodless fingers of the goblin.” At
Pierse Bridge, in Durham, the water-spirit of the Tees went by the name of
Peg Powler, and there were stories in the district, of naughty children
having been dragged by her into the river.
In the Highlands and Lowlands alike, the spirit inhabiting rivers and
lakes was commonly known as the water-kelpy. A south country ballad
says:—
“The side was steep, the bottom deep
Frae bank to bank the water pouring;
And the bonnie lass did quake for fear,
She heard the water-kelpie roaring.”

Who does not remember Burns’s lines in his “Address to the Deil”?—
“When thowes dissolve the snawy hoord,
An’ float the jinglin’ icy-boord,
Then water-kelpies haunt the foord
By your direction;
An’ ’nighted travellers are allur’d
To their destruction.

An’ aft your moss-traversin’ spunkies

Decoy the wight that late and drunk is:
The bleezin’, curst, mischievous monkeys
Delude his eyes.
Till in some miry slough he sunk is,
Ne’er mair to rise.”

The kelpy corresponded in attributes with the Icelandic Nikr; whence has
come our term Old Nick, popularly applied to the devil. A well-known
picture by Sir Noel Paton has familiarised the story of “Nickar, the
soulless,” who is there represented as a creature with frog-like feet, but with
a certain human look about him, crouching among sedge by the side of
water, and playing his ghittern—an instrument resembling a guitar. He
appears, however, more melancholy and less mischievous than the other
members of his fraternity. A kelpy that idled away his time with music and
made no attempt to drown anybody, was quite an exceptional being. In
Sweden, where Nikr was regarded with awe, ferrymen at specially
dangerous parts of rivers warned those who were crossing in their boat not
even to mention his name, lest some mishap should follow. In his “Saxons
in England,” Mr. J. M. Kemble thus refers to other manifestations of the
same creature:—“The beautiful Nix or Nixie who allures the young fisher
or hunter to seek her embraces in the wave which brings his death; the Neck
who seizes upon and drowns the maidens who sport upon his banks; the
river-spirit who still yearly, in some parts of Germany, demands tribute of
human life, are all forms of the ancient Nicor.” The same writer continues:
—“More pleasing is the Swedish Stromkarl, who, from the jewelled bed of
his river, watches with delight the children gambol in the adjoining
meadows, and singing sweetly to them in the evening, detaches from his
hoary hair the sweet blossoms of the water-lily, which he wafts over the
surface to their hands.” In his “Folklore of East Yorkshire,” Mr. J. B.
Nicholson alludes to a haunted pool between Bewholme and Atwick, at the
foot of the hill on which Atwick Church stands. This pool is shaded by
willows, and is believed to be haunted by a spirit known in the district as
the Halliwell Boggle. In connection with Robin Round Cap Well, in the
same district, Mr. Nicholson tells a story—found also in the south of
Scotland—of a certain house-spirit or brownie, who proved so troublesome
to the farmer whom he served that his master resolved to remove to other
quarters. The furniture was accordingly put in carts and a start was made for
the new home. On the way, a friend accosted the farmer and asked if he was
flitting. Before he could reply, a voice came from the churn—“Ay, we’re
flitting!” and, behold, there sat Robin Round Cap. The farmer, seeing that
he could not thus rid himself of the spirit, returned to his old home; but,
afterwards, he succeeded in charming the brownie into a well, where he still
remains. The same writer relates a superstition about a certain round hole
near Flamborough where a girl once committed suicide. “It is believed,” he
says, “that anyone bold enough to run nine times round this place will see
Jenny’s spirit come out, dressed in white; but no one has yet been bold
enough to venture more than eight times, for then Jenny’s spirit called out:
—
‘Ah’ll tee on my bonnet
An’ put on me shoe,
An’ if thoo’s nut off
 Ah’ll seean catch thoo!’

A farmer, some years ago, galloped round it on horseback, and Jenny did
come out, to the great terror of the farmer, who put spurs to his horse and
galloped off as fast as he could, the spirit after him. Just on entering the
village, the spirit, for some reason unknown, declined to proceed further,
but bit a piece clean out of the horse’s flank, and the old mare had a white
patch there to her dying day.”
In the “Folklore Journal” for 1889, Dr. Gregor relates some kelpy
legends collected by him in Aberdeenshire. On one occasion a man had to
cross the Don by the bridge of Luib, Corgarff, to get to his wife who was
then very ill. When he reached the river, he found that the bridge—a
wooden one—had been swept away by a flood. He despaired of reaching
the other bank, when a tall man suddenly appeared and offered to carry him
across. The man was at first doubtful, but ere long accepted the proffered
help. When they reached the middle of the river, the kelpy, who had hitherto
shown himself so obliging, sought to plunge his burden beneath the water.
A struggle ensued. The man finally found a foothold, and, disengaging
himself from the kelpy, scrambled in all haste up the bank. His would-be
destroyer, disappointed of his victim, hurled a boulder after him. This
boulder came to be known as the Kelpy’s Stane. Passers-by threw a stone
beside it till eventually a heap was formed, locally styled the Kelpy’s Cairn.
A Braemar kelpy stole a sackful of meal from a mill to give it to a woman
for whom he had taken a fancy. As the thief was disappearing, the miller
caught sight of him and threw a fairy-whorl at his retreating figure. The
whorl broke his leg, and the kelpy fell into the mill-race and was drowned.
Such was the fate of the last kelpy seen in Braemar. Sutherland, too,
abounded in water-spirits. They used to cross the mouth of the Dornoch
Firth in cockle-shells, but, getting tired of this mode of transit, they resolved
to build a bridge. It was a magnificent structure, the piers being headed with
pure gold. A countryman, happening to pass, saw the bridge, and invoked a
blessing on the workmen and their work. Immediately, the workmen
vanished, and their work sank beneath the waves. Where it spanned the
Firth there is now a sandbar dangerous to mariners. Miss Dempster, who
recounts this legend in the “Folklore Journal” for 1888, supplies further
information about the superstition of the district. A banshee, adorned with
gold ornaments and wearing a silk dress, was seen hurrying down a hill
near the river Shin, and finally plunging into one of its deep pools. These
banshees were commonly web-footed, and seemed addicted to finery, if we
may judge from the instance just given, and from another mentioned by Mr.
Campbell in his “Tales of the West Highlands.” He there speaks of one who
frequented a stream about four miles from Skibo Castle in Dornoch parish.
The miller’s wife saw her. “She was sitting on a stone, quiet, and beautifully
dressed in a green silk dress, the sleeves of which were curiously puffed
from the wrists to the shoulder. Her long hair was yellow like ripe corn, but
on nearer view she had no nose.” Miss Dempster narrates the following
incident connected with the water-spirit haunting another Sutherland river:
—“One, William Munro, and the grandfather of the person from whom we
have this story, were one night leading half-a-dozen pack-horses across a
ford in the Oikel, on their way to a mill. When they neared the river bank a
horrid scream from the water struck their ears. ‘It is the Vaicgh,’ cried the
lad, who was leading the first horse, and, picking up some stones, he sent a
shower of them into the deep pool at his feet. She must have been
repeatedly hit, as she emitted a series of the most piercing shrieks. ‘I am
afraid,’ said Monro, ‘that you have not done that right, and that she will
play us an ugly trick at the ford.’ ‘Never mind, we will take more stones,’ he
answered, arming himself with a few. But the kelpy had had enough of
stones for one night.”
Off the Rhinns of Islay is a small island formerly used for grazing cattle.
A strong tide sweeps past the island, making the crossing of the Sound
dangerous. A story, related by Mr. Campbell, tells that on a certain
boisterous night a woman was left in charge of a large herd of cattle on the
island. She was sitting in her cabin, when all at once she heard strange
noises outside, and, looking up, saw a pair of large eyes gazing in at her
through the window. The door opened, and a strange creature strode in. He
was tall and hairy, with a livid covering on his face instead of skin. He
advanced towards the woman and asked her name. She replied in Gaelic,
“Mise mi Fhin”—“Me myself.” He then seized her. In her terror she threw a
ladleful of boiling water on the intruder. Yelling with pain he bounded out
of the hut. These unearthly voices asked what was the matter, and who had
hurt him? “Mise mi Fhin”—“Me myself,” replied the creature. The answer
was received with a shout of laughter from his mysterious companions. The
woman rushed out of the hut, and dislodging one of the cows lay down on
the spot, at the same time making a magical circle round her on the ground.
All night she heard terrible sounds mingling with the roaring of the wind. In
the morning the supernatural manifestations disappeared, and she felt
herself safe. It had not fared, however, so well with the cow, for, when
found, it was dead.
In Chapter I. reference was made to mermen and mermaids, and little
requires to be added in the present connection. In the south of Scotland the
very names of these sea-spirits have a far-off sound about them. No one
beside the Firths of Forth and Clyde expects nowadays to catch sight of
such strange forms sitting on rocks, or playing among the breakers; but
among our Northern Isles it is otherwise. Every now and again (at long
intervals, perhaps) the mysterious mermaid makes her appearance, and
gives new life to an old superstition. About three years since, one was seen
at Deerness in Orkney. She reappeared last year, and was then noticed by
some lobstermen who were working their creels. She had a small black
head, white body, and long arms. Somewhat later, a creature, believed to be
this mermaid, was shot not far from the shore, but the body was not
captured. In June of the present year another mermaid was seen by the
Deerness people. At Birsay, recently, a farmer’s wife was down at the sea-
shore, and observed a strange creature among the rocks. She went back for
her husband, and the two returned quite in time to get a good view of the
interesting stranger. The woman spoke of the mermaid as “a good-looking
person”; while her husband described her as “having a covering of brown
hair.” Curiosity seems to have been uppermost in the minds of the couple,
for they tried to capture the creature. In the interests of folklore, if not of
science, she managed to escape, and was quickly lost to sight beneath the
waves. Perhaps, as the gurgling waters closed over her, she may have
uttered an au revoir, or whatever corresponds to that phrase in the language
of the sea. The following story about a mermaid, told by Mr. J. H. Dixon in
his “Gairloch,” published in 1886, is fully credited in the district where the
incident occurred:—“Roderick Mackenzie, the elderly and much respected
boat-builder at Port Henderson, when a young man, went one day to a rocky
part of the shore there. Whilst gathering bait he suddenly spied a mermaid
asleep among the rocks. Rorie ‘went for’ that mermaid, and succeeded in
seizing her by the hair. The poor creature in great embarrassment cried out
that if Rorie would let go she would grant him whatever boon he might ask.
He requested a pledge that no one should ever be drowned from any boat he
might build. On his releasing her the mermaid promised that this should be
so. The promise has been kept throughout Rorie’s long business career—his
boats still defy the stormy winds and waves.” Mr. Dixon adds, “I am the
happy possessor of an admirable example of Rorie’s craft. The most
ingenious framer of trade advertisements might well take a hint from this
veracious anecdote.”
 MORE WATER-SPIRITS.

Water-horses and Water-bulls—Highland Superstition—Spiritual Water-

demon and Material Water-monster—Water-bulls of Loch Llundavrà
and Loch Achtriachtan—Water-horses of Loch Treig—Kelpy of Loch
Ness—Water-horse Bridles—Pontage Pool—Kelpy’s Footprint—
MacCulloch and Sir Walter Scott—Recent Example of Belief in Water-
monster—Tarroo-Ushtey in the Isle of Man—Other Water-spirits—
Dragon—Black-dog—Fly—Fish—Demons—Origin of Well-worship.

So far we have been dealing with water-spirits more or less human in form.
Another class consists of those with the shape and attributes of horses and
bulls. The members of this class are connected specially with Highland
districts. Lonely lochs were their favourite haunts. In treeless regions, a
belief in such creatures would naturally arise. Any ordinary animal in such
an environment would appear of a larger size than usual, and the eye of the
beholder would transmit the error to his imagination, thereby still further
magnifying the creature’s bulk. In some instances, the notion might arise
even when there was no animal on the scene. A piece of rock, or some other
physical feature of the landscape would be enough to excite superstitious
fancies. Mr. Campbell remarks, “In Sutherland and elsewhere, many believe
that they have seen these fancied animals. I have been told of English
sportsmen who went in pursuit of them, so circumstantial were the accounts
of those who believed they had seen them. The witnesses are so numerous,
and their testimony agrees so well, that there must be some old deeply-
rooted Celtic belief which clothes every object with the dreaded form of the
Each Uisge, i.e., Water-horse.” When waves appeared on a lake, and there
seemed no wind to account for them, superstitious people readily grasped at
the idea that the phenomenon was due to the action of some mysterious
water-spirit. As Dr. Tylor points out, there seems to have been a confusion
“between the ‘spiritual water-demon’ and the ‘material water-monster.’ ”
Any creature found in or near the water would naturally be reckoned its
guardian spirit.
The Rev. Dr. Stewart gives the following particulars about water-horses
and water-bulls in his “ ’Twixt Ben Nevis and Glencoe.” They are thought
of “as, upon the whole, of the same shape and form as the more kindly
quadrupeds after whom they have been named, but larger, fiercer, and with
an amount of ‘devilment’ and cunning about them, of which the latter,
fortunately, manifest no trace. They are always fat and sleek, and so full of
strength and spirit and life that the neighing of the one and the bellowing of
the other frequently awake the mountain echoes to their inmost recesses for
miles and miles around. . . . Calves and foals are the result of occasional
intercourse between these animals and their more civilised domestic
congeners, such calves bearing unmistakable proofs of their mixed descent
in the unusual size and pendulousness of their ears and the wide aquatic
spread of their jet black hoofs; the foals, in their clean limbs, large flashing
eyes, red distended nostrils, and fiery spirit. The initiated still pretend to
point out cattle with more or less of this questionable blood in them, in
almost every drove of pure Highland cows and heifers you like to bring
under their notice.” The lochs of Llundavrà and Achtriachtan, in Glencoe,
were at one time famous for their water-bulls; and Loch Treig for its water-
horses, believed to be the fiercest specimens of that breed in the world. If
anyone suggested to a Lochaber or Rannoch Highlander that the cleverest
horse-tamer could “clap a saddle on one of the demon-steeds of Loch Treig,
as he issues in the grey dawn, snorting, from his crystal-paved sub-lacustral
stalls, he would answer, with a look of mingled horror and awe,
‘Impossible!’ The water-horse would tear him into a thousand pieces with
his teeth and trample and pound him into pulp with his jet-black, iron-hard,
though unshod hoofs!”
A noted demon-steed once inhabited Loch Ness, and was a cause of
terror to the inhabitants of the neighbourhood. Like other kelpies, he was in
the habit of browsing along the roadside, all bridled and saddled, as if
waiting for some one to mount him. When any unwary traveller did so, the
kelpy took to his heels, and presently plunged into deep water with his
victim on his back. Mr. W. G. Stewart, in his “Highland Superstitions and
Amusements,” tells a story to show that the kelpy in question did not always
have things his own way. A Highlander of the name of MacGrigor resolved
to throw himself in the way of the water-horse in the hope of getting the
better of him. The meeting took place in the solitary pass of Slochd-
Muichd, between Strathspey and Inverness. The kelpy looked as innocent as
usual, and was considerably startled when MacGrigor, sword in hand,
struck him a blow on the nose. The weapon cut through the bridle, and the
bit, falling to the ground, was instantly picked up by MacGrigor. This was
the turning point of the encounter. The kelpy was powerless without his bit,
and requested to have it restored. Though a horse, the kelpy had the power
of human speech, and conversed, doubtless in excellent Gaelic, with his
victor, using various arguments to bring about the restoration of his lost
property. Finding that these were unavailing, he prophesied that MacGrigor
would never enter his house with the bit in his possession, and when they
arrived at the door he planted himself in front of it to block the entrance.
The Highlander, however, outwitted the kelpy, for, going round to the back
of his house, he called his wife and flung the bit to her through a window.
Returning to the kelpy, he told him where the bit was, and assured him that
he would never get it back again. As there was a rowan cross above the
door the demon-steed could not enter the house, and presently departed
uttering certain exclamations not intended for benedictions. Those who
doubt the truthfulness of the narrative may have their doubts lessened when
they learn that this was not the only case of a water-horse’s bit becoming
the property of a human being. The Rev. Dr. Stewart narrates an anecdote
bearing on this. A drover, whose home was in Nether Lochaber, was
returning from a market at Pitlochry by way of the Moor of Rannoch. Night
came on; but, as the moon was bright, he continued his journey without
difficulty. On reaching Lochanna Cuile, he sat down to refresh himself with
bread, cheese, and milk. While partaking of this temperate repast he caught
sight of something glittering on the ground, and, picking it up, he found it to
be a horse’s bridle. Next morning he was astonished to find that the bit and
buckles were of pure silver and the reins of soft and beautifully speckled
leather. He was still more surprised to find that the bit when touched was
unbearably hot. A wise woman from a neighbouring glen was called in to
solve the mystery. She at once recognised the article to be a water-horse’s
bridle, and accounted for the high temperature of the bit on the ground that
the silver still retained the heat that it possessed when in a molten state
below ground. The reins, she said, were made of the skin of a certain
poisonous serpent that inhabited pools frequented by water-horses.
According to her directions, the bridle was hung on a cromag or crook of
rowan wood. Its presence brought a blessing to the house, and the drover
prospered in all his undertakings. When he died, having no children of his
own, he bequeathed the magical bridle to his grandnephew, who prospered
in his turn.
A pool in the North Esk, in Forfarshire, called the Ponage or Pontage
Pool, was at one time the home of a water-horse. This creature was captured
by means of a magical bridle, and kept in captivity for some time. While a
prisoner he was employed to carry stones to Morphie, where a castle was
then being built. One day the bridle was incautiously removed, and the
creature vanished, but not before he exclaimed—
“Sair back an’ sair banes,
Carryin’ the Laird o’ Morphie’s stanes;
The Laird o’ Morphie canna thrive
As lang’s the kelpy is alive.”

His attempted verse-making seems to have gratified the kelpy, for when he
afterwards showed himself in the pool he was frequently heard repeating
the rhyme. The fate of the castle was disastrous. At a later date it was
entirely demolished, and its site now alone remains. Some six miles from
the Kirkton of Glenelg, in Inverness-shire, is the small sheet of water
known in the district as John MacInnes’ Loch. It was so called from a
crofter of that name who was drowned there. The circumstances are thus
narrated by Mr. J. Calder Ross in “Scottish Notes and Queries” for
February, 1893: “John MacInnes found the labour of his farm sadly
burdensome. In the midst of his sighing an unknown being appeared to him
and promised a horse to him under certain conditions. These conditions
John undertook to fulfil. One day, accordingly, he found a fine horse
grazing in one of his fields. He happened to be ploughing at the time, and at
once he yoked the animal to the plough along with another horse. The
stranger worked splendidly, and he determined to keep it, though he well
knew that it was far from canny. Every night when he stabled it he spread
some earth from a mole’s hill over it as a charm; according to another
version he merely blessed the animal. One night he forgot his usual
precautions: perhaps he was beginning to feel safe. The horse noticed the
omission, and seizing poor John in his teeth, galloped off with him. The two
disappeared in the loch.”
Water-horses were not always malignant in disposition. On one occasion
an Aberdeenshire farmer went with his own horse to a mill to fetch home
some sacks of meal. He left the horse at the door of the mill and went in to
bring out the sacks. The beast, finding itself free, started for home. When
the farmer reappeared and found the creature gone he was much
disconcerted, and uttered the wish that he might get any kind of horse to
carry his sacks even though it were a water-kelpy. To his surprise, a water-
horse immediately appeared! It quietly allowed itself to be loaded with the
meal, and accompanied the farmer to his home. On reaching the house he
tied the horse to an old harrow till he should get the sacks taken into the
house. When he returned to stable the animal that had done him the good
turn, horse and harrow were away, and he heard the beast plunging not far
off in a deep pool in the Don. If anyone refuses to believe in the existence
of water-horses, let him go to the parish of Fearn, in Forfarshire, and there,
near the ruined castle of Vayne, he will see on a sandstone rock the print of
a kelpy’s foot. Noran Water flows below the castle, and the mysterious
creature had doubtless its home in one of its pools. In Shetland, such kelpies
were known as Nuggles, and showed themselves under the form of
Shetland ponies.
MacCulloch, the author of “A Description of the Western Islands of
Scotland,” found the belief in the water-bull a living faith among the
people, notably among the dwellers beside Loch Rannoch and Loch Awe.
He tells of a farmer who employed his sons to search a certain stream for
one of these creatures, while the farmer himself carried a gun loaded with
sixpences to be discharged when the monster appeared, silver alone having
any effect on such beasts. The same writer, when speaking of the grandeur
of the scenery about Loch Coruisk, remarks:—“It is not surprising that
Coruisk should be considered by the natives as the haunt of the water-
goblin or of spirits still more dreadful. A seaman, and a bold one, whom, on
one occasion, I had left in charge of the boat, became so much terrified at
finding himself alone that he ran off to join his comrades, leaving it moored
to the rock, though in danger of being destroyed by the surge. I afterwards
overheard much discussion on the courage of the Southron in making the
circuit of the valley unattended. Not returning till it was nearly dark, it was
concluded that he had fallen into the fangs of the kelpy.” MacCulloch’s
“Description” consists of a series of letters to Sir Walter Scott. Sir Walter
himself has an interesting reference to the same superstition in his
“Journal,” under date November 23rd, 1827. After enumerating the
company at a certain dinner party at which he had been present, he
continues: “Clanronald told us, as an instance of Highland credulity, that a
set of his kinsmen—Borradale and others—believing that the fabulous
‘water-cow’ inhabited a small lake near his house, resolved to drag the
monster into day. With this view they bivouacked by the side of the lake in
which they placed, by way of night-bait, two small anchors such as belong
to boats, each baited with the carcase of a dog slain for the purpose. They
expected the ‘water-cow’ would gorge on this bait, and were prepared to
drag her ashore the next morning, when, to their confusion of face, the baits
were found untouched. It is something too late in the day for setting baits
for water-cows.” If such conduct seemed wonderful in 1827, what would
the author of “Waverley” have thought had he known that more than half-a-
century later, people in the Highlands retained a thoroughgoing belief in
such monsters? No longer ago than 1884 rumours were current in Ross-
shire that a water-cow was seen in or near a loch on the Greenstone Point,
in Gairloch parish. Mr. J. H. Dixon, in his “Gairloch,” states that about
1840 a water-cow was believed to inhabit Loch-na-Beiste, in the same
parish, and that a serious attempt was then made to destroy the creature.
The proprietor tried to drain the loch, which, except at one point, is little
more than a fathom in depth; but when his efforts failed he threw a quantity
of quicklime into the water to poison the monster. It is reasonable to hold
that the trout were the only sufferers. The creature in question was
described by two men who saw it as in appearance like “a good sized boat
with the keel turned up.” Belief in the existence of water-cows prevailed in
the south as well as in the north of Scotland. In the Yarrow district there was
one inhabiting St. Mary’s Loch. Concerning this water-cow, Hogg, the
Ettrick Shepherd, writes: “A farmer in Bowerhope once got a breed of her,
which he kept for many years until they multiplied exceedingly; and he
never had any cattle throve so well, until once, on some outrage or
disrespect on the farmer’s part towards them, the old dam came out of the
lake one pleasant March evening and gave such a roar that all the
surrounding hills shook again, upon which her progeny, nineteen in number,
followed her all quietly into the loch, and were never more seen.”