Vol 13 - Dumfriesshire & Galloway Natural History and Antiquarian ...

18 Antiquities of Eskdalemuir.
Glendiiming has tauld me, and so has Tarn Beattie of Muckledale.
" These wights, to add to a' their crimes, have shot at them a hunner
times." Another legend tells of a man Biggar, a staunch sup-
porter of the Covenanting cause, who concealed on his farm and
fed from his kitchen the persecuted Covenanters—how he was
found out, became a marked man, and narrowly escaped being
shot. The troopers were after him, led by Claverhouse in person,
but when overtaken Biggar was equal to the occasion, nor for a
moment lost his self-possession. Claverhouse laid on him with the
handle of his whip. Biggar, turning round, looked him straight
in the face, and said, " The devil is in the man ; what are you
striking at ?" This satisfied the man of blood—riding back to his
band he said, " There's an honest fellow that can swear ; none of
your canting rogues." We have yet another legend, of a dis-
tinctly dramatic order, in which a member of the old Blake family
is promoted to the role of hero, although the manner in which he
played his part can scarcely be described as heroic. This Blake
legend is to me strongly reminiscent of Burns's immortal poem,
" Tam o' Shanter." You all doubtless recollect that particular
portion of Tam o' Shanter's ride where he is represented as
followed by a " Hellish legion " of witches and warlocks in full
cry at his tail, or rather " Maggie's "—and is, in consequence, so
panic-stricken that he addresses his old and faithful mare in the
following terms :
—
" Now do thy speedy utmost Meg,
And win the key stane o' the brig ;
There at them, thou thy tail may toss,
A runnin' stream they dar'na cross."
In Tam o' Shanter's case there was a horse—in our Blake's case
there was a horse too. Tam had a water to cross, so had
Blake, for the legend tells us that he was leading a cart load
of lar on the opposite side of the river from his home, when
he heard a witch or warlock in the guise of a moor-fowl
roaring in his very lug, " Blake and the tar ! Blake and the
tai' !" With one wild exclamation from the terrified man, " Ye'll
no' get baith Bleak and the terr," he left horse and cart behind,
plunged madly into mid-stream and drowned his terrors in the
consolation that witches and evil spirits have no power to fol-
low a poor wight any further than the middle of the nearest
running stream. At this point it may be well for me to