Of all these classes of spirits it may be, in general observed, that their attachment was supposed to be local, and not personal.  They haunted the rock, the stream, the ruined castle, without regard to the persons or families to whom the property belonged.  Hence, they differed entirely from that species of spirits, to whom, in the Highlands, is ascribed the guardianship, or superintendance of a particular clan, or family of distinction; and who, perhaps yet more than the Brownie, resemble the classic household gods.  Thus, in an MS. history of Moray, we are informed, that the family of Gurlinbeg is haunted by a spirit, called Garlin Bodacher; that of the baron of Kinchardin, by Lamhdearg[56], or Red-hand, a spectre, one of whose hands is as red as blood; that of Tullochgorm, by May Moulach, a female figure, whose left hand and arm were covered with hair, who is also mentioned in Aubrey’s Miscellanies, pp. 211, 212, as a familiar attendant upon the elan Grant.  These superstitions were so ingrafted in the popular creed, that the clerical synods and presbyteries were wont to take cognizance of them[57].

[Footnote 56:  The following notice of Lamhdearg occurs in another account of Strathspey, apud Macfarlane’s MSS.:—­“There is much talke of a spirit called Ly-erg, who frequents the Glenmore.  He appears with a red hand, in the habit of a souldier, and challenges men to fight with him; as lately as 1669, he fought with three brothers, one after another, who immediately died thereafter.”]

[Footnote 57:  There is current, in some parts of Germany, a fanciful superstition concerning the Stille Volke, or silent people.  These they suppose to be attached to houses of eminence, and to consist of a number, corresponding to that of the mortal family, each person of which has thus his representative amongst these domestic spirits.  When the lady of the family has a child, the queen of the silent people is delivered in the same moment.  They endeavour to give warning when danger approaches the family, assist in warding it off, and are sometimes seen to weep and wring their hands, before inevitable calamity.]

Various other superstitions, regarding magicians, spells, prophecies, &c., will claim our attention in the progress of this work.  For the present, therefore taking the advice of an old Scottish rhymer, let us

  “Leave bogles, brownies, gyre carlinges, and ghaists[58].”

[Footnote 58:  So generally were these tales of diablerie believed, that one William Lithgow, a bon vivant, who appears to have been a native, or occasional inhabitant, of Melrose, is celebrated by the pot-companion who composed his elegy, because

He was good company at jeists.  And wanton when he came to feists, He scorn’d the converse of great beasts, O’er a sheep’s head; He laugh’d at stones about ghaists; Blythe Willie’s dead!

Watson’s Scotish Poems, Edin. 1706.]