Chapter VI: Part 6

The following is a fairly circumstantial account from the parish of Clyne, Sutherlandshire, of the performance with stones and silver of a strong believer. She had a delicate daughter, and believed if people, especially strangers, looked at the girl she was sure to be ill after it, and often she would be so bad that she had to go to bed. The mother then tried the following cure, believed by many to be successful. She took a basin and put a silver coin into it, and went to a running stream near her house. From the bottom of the stream she chose seven small stones, which she put in the basin along with the coin, then dipping the basin in the stream so that the water ran into it on the top of the silver and the stones till slightly more than half full. She then went home, gave her daughter a little of the water to drink, and sprinkled a little of it on her. She kept the remainder beside her, and whenever there was any suspicion that an Evil Eye had again fallen upon her, the same process was carried out. Unfortunately the cure failed, the girl having died. It is more than probable that the weakly girl, imbued with her mother’s superstition, suffered when looked at by strangers, or when she thought she was regarded with curiosity; if she had merely been nervous she would probably have been cured.

A native of Jura told how, when living with her sister there, one of the children becoming unwell an _eolas_ woman was sent for, who got some stones, a darning needle, water, and other things, and with these did something to the child, but it did not recover. Our informant said they were strong in the belief that the child had been _air a cronachadh_.

Another account of the use of the darning needle comes from Ardrishaig. Our informant’s grandmother had a cow grazing at the roadside, and a woman, suspected of having an Evil Eye, passing, said, “_S mart bhriagh thu, ge bi leis thu_” (“You are a bonnie cow, to whomsoever you belong”). Shortly after the cow was found “lying rolled up in a lump.” “My grandmother went with a luggie for water and put a darning needle, silver, and copper into the water. She then poured some of the water down the cow’s throat, rubbed her horns with the water, and sprinkled the rest all over her. In a little the cow was all right.”

The same reciter mentioned another case, in which the operator was her mother. A calf became ill, and the owners were in doubts what to do with it. “My mother, remembering my grandfather’s cow, put spring water in a luggie (it must be spring water) and a silver and a copper coin and a darning needle. She forced some of the water down the calf’s throat, and sprinkled the rest over it. The calf recovered, and the farmer’s wife was so pleased and said to my mother, ‘Well, well, Mrs. S., I never saw the like of you, you can do anything.’”

No detailed description was given of the stones used, but as _clach-na-sùil_, the stone (apple) of the eye, is common Gaelic, they were doubtless of a sort more or less representative of eyes.

From Kintyre, the following information in the words of the reciter gives us some indication. “They used tae hae a bunch o’ sea-shore stanes wi’ holes in them hanging up at the door tae keep awa‘ witches.” The collector had seen such stones in a house in Kintyre, but at the time did not know their purpose. They were of the honeycombed sort that may be found on shores where there are quantities of shingle. There were six or seven tied on a string hung above the inside of the inner door; they were of different sizes, guessed at from fourteen to sixteen ounces in weight.

From the island of Lewis we have another indication. There, there is a considerable amount of superstition connected with what is called _a’ chlach nathrach_ (the serpent’s stone). The reciter, who had seen several of them, said they were usually round with one hole through them, though there may be two in some cases. The popular account of the information given was as follows: A number of serpents congregating at certain times form themselves into a knot and move round and round on the stone until a hole is worn. They then pass and repass after each other through the hole, leaving a coating of slime round the hole, which by-and-by becomes hard. It is this slime that gives to the stone the healing properties it is supposed to possess. The principal use of the stone was as a cure for the Evil Eye. Water is poured on the stone, and the person or beast affected is caused to drink the water, or has it sprinkled on them; sometimes the application is both external and internal. These stones are much prized by their possessors, who are very unwilling to part with them, and would not even willingly show them, or even acknowledge that they possessed them.

Stories of the knot of serpents being seen are still told. A very old man, a labourer, without English, and who can neither read nor write, gives the following account:—

“All the serpents in the country round about gather together to one place on one day every year, where they have a day’s play. The play consists in rolling in a lump on a stone and running through a hole on the stone one after another. One time Georsa Cailean’s wife (the wife of George, the son of Colin) was going home to her father, and when she was just beside a beautiful green spot near _Beinn Tartbheil_ (Islay), she noticed that it was covered with serpents as thick as they could lie on the top of one another. They had gathered there that year for their play. She got a fright and ran, but if she had gone among them she would have got the serpent’s stone.”

A strong endeavour was made to acquire one of these stones, said to have been found in a serpent’s den, but negotiations came to nothing, as the owners believing that it was good as a cure, especially for serpents’ bite, refused to part with it.

It is not necessary here to discuss St. Fillan, but it is a well-known fact that the three stones, supposed to have been in his possession and kept in the meal mill at Killin, were supposed to impart healing efficacy to water in which they were steeped, and which recently, at any rate, was given to diseased cattle as a curative.

The stones principally used then are stones with an eye or eyes in them—compare usual description of the hole in the top of a needle, the eye of the needle. The stones of St. Fillan seem the nearest symbolical equivalent we have to the protruded fingers of southern Europe, which again is nearly identical with the one-eyed Fachan—the _Direach glinn Eiti_ (Straight of the downy glen?) of I. F. Campbell,[13] and with which we may connect the protruded forefinger which was not to touch the yarn, mentioned on page 145.

[13] “West Highland Tales,” iv. 326.

IRON AND WATER

An Islay woman tells the following of her mother. “She was telling me how one time the butter went away from their milk, and for a good while they could not get a bit of butter. She was advised to go to that woman, and she went. When she told her that she could get no butter the woman took an iron and put it into the fire until it was red-hot; she then took it out and put it into a stoup of water, repeating some words at the same time. Some of this water was given to my mother to put into the churn, and would you believe it, the butter came back, and not only that, but with the very first churning there was a great quantity, equal to all that had been lost since things had gone wrong.”

The reciter was a woman of about five-and-thirty, now a small farmer’s wife, and well educated for her station.

The iron in this case was heated, but in another instance, in which a horse belonging to the reciter’s grandfather was supposed to be injured by the Evil Eye, the _eolas_ professor, a woman, having got water, dipped a bunch of keys into it and then hung the keys round the horse’s neck, and sprinkled the water over the animal, repeating words which the reciter could not catch. The horse got well.

That for the cold iron, and now for the heat. “_Nan tigeadh neach a steach gus an tigh againne ‘nuair a bhitheamaid a’ maistreadh dhe nach biodh m’athair ro chinnteach, ghabhadh e eibhleag as an teine agus chuireadh e ann an soitheach uisg’ e, agus ghleidheadh sin an toradh._” (“If a person of whom my father would not be quite sure would come into our house when we would be churning, he would take a live ember from the fire and put it in a dish of water, and that would preserve the produce.”)

As a mere suggestion, a guess for what it is worth, knowing that the old process of preparing hot water by immersing heated stones in it was practised by Highlanders, we here may have the ordinary method of scalding the churn and dishes, at one time common, become a superstitious formula.

The power of iron as protective against witchcraft, fairies, and all supernatural powers is too widespread to need special consideration. We must not however always conclude that when what is used as a means of cure is composed of iron that the iron is the principal matter. A reciter near Campbeltown gave the following information:—

“Mattie Lavarty used to be going about the country here makin’ _eolas_. I mind yince a coo belongin‘ tae yin Neil R. took ill before calfing, an’ they sent for Mattie Lavarty. She worked aboot the coo wi’ water, an’ said her paternoster or somethin’ else o’er’t an left a horseshoe in front o’t. But the next mornin’ whan Neil gaed intae the byre the calf was lyin’ deed in the greep (byre gutter). That pit Neil frae gaun near Mattie or the like o’ her ever after.”

Our business here is not with Mattie’s success or failure, but with the subject matter used in her attempted cure. The illness of the cow was probably a protracted labour, and Mattie put before it what was symbolical of a free passage for the expected calf. It was no mere placing of something for luck, but a use of the symbol of reproduction on an appropriate occasion.

WOOD AND WATER

The reciter in this case was a native of Tarbert, Kintyre. Believing his cow to be suffering from the Evil Eye, he sent for a practitioner of _eolas_. When she arrived, the first thing she did was to procure various kinds of wood and “different kinds of water.” She made circles with a stick, repeating “words” the while. This done, she requested the owner to go out of the byre, she remaining alone in it for a considerable time. She put the water in which the wood had been steeped on the cow. The animal recovered.

It seems reasonable to conclude that the _iubhar beinne_ (the juniper) would be one of the woods used, but no exact information was obtainable. (See page 119)

SALT AS CURE AND PREVENTATIVE

Salt is employed as a cure and preventative. The following experience of a Kintyre farmer’s wife, recited by herself, gives considerable detail of the process carried out. “I mind yin o’ oor ain coos was ill, an’ I sent for M. McC., that was a woman beside us that had _eolas_. As shune as she seen the coo she said M. McS. was here. That was a woman folk didna’ like, for they thocht she had a bad e’e. Says I: ‘Ay, she was here.’ ‘Weel, she did harm to the coo.’ She gied to the march burn and lifted water oot o’t in three pairts. The first she lifted in the name o’ the Father, the second in the name o’ the Son, and the third in the name o’ the Holy Ghost. Then she got salt and did the same wee hit. She pit the first taitie intae the bottle in the name o’ the Faither, the second in the name o’ the Son, and the third in the name o’ the Holy Ghost. She then gied tae a corner o’ the byre and prayed some prayer. When that was finished she pit the water in the coo’s ears and some on her back, an’ then said, ‘She has plenty noo.’ The coo shune got better. Peter, Paul, and Mary’s names war in the prayer. She offered to learn me that _eolas_, but I didna want tae learn’t.”

From an Islay reciter who saw the performance we have the operation described as follows. She (the professor) first went on her knees and repeated words, then put salt on a paper. This salt she measured with a thimble painted blue in the inside. She then put it into a cloth, poured water through it into a bottle, after which she repeated words over it and gave the bottle to the man who had come to consult her about the cow.

The salt seems sometimes to be used dry. We have mentioned George ——, described as a worthy man, who was consulted to cure a cow so ill that the schoolmaster had already advised its owner to send for a man to flay it. George required that it should be put in the byre, and it had to be pulled in by main force with a rope round its horns. This being accomplished, he told the boys that they might go now and he would do the rest himself. He then asked my mother if she had salt, and when she replied that she had, he ordered her to give him the full of her hand. She gave him that, and said if there was anything he would like to have one of the children would go for it. But he answered, “This will do my business.” He went back to the _bothan_ (byre), and he began to work the salt in the palm of his hand. After a good while he came out and said to my mother, “Your cow is dressed now, Flora.” They then went to take her out of the _bothan_, but still she would not walk, and they had to drag her out and leave her again on the green. With this my father was after coming back, and a man along with him, to take the skin off the cow. George advised her to let her alone, for she would be all right yet. The cow recovered.

The use of urine as a preventative has been considered already. The following from an intelligent woman of about fifty, a farmer’s wife in Kintyre, a well-read woman who takes an interest in things which she admittedly does not believe in, tells that when she was young, in one farm in Kintyre where she was in service, her mistress was regularly in the habit of sprinkling urine (house slops) on every cow after calving, and before she was allowed to go out, the intention being to protect the cow from the effects of the Evil Eye.

In another farm, however, in Kintyre, at the same time and for the same purpose, salt was sprinkled on every cow’s back as soon as she had calved. It was an encouraging sign if the cow licked off the salt, which was specially sprinkled on either side of the rump.

It seems quite fair here to consider the salt as a more civilised representative of the other fluid, though in fact the latter is of considerable value as a cleanser under certain circumstances.

Another native of Kintyre informs us that it was a common custom at farms when the cattle were being put out on the 1st of May for the mistress to stand and throw a handful of salt on each as they passed out of the byre. She saw this done in a farm in the parish of Campbeltown, and was well aware of it being a common practice. It was avowedly done against _cronachadh_.

The writer having no skill in churning, has no knowledge what result would come from putting of salt in the churn, but an Arran woman is responsible for the statement that she had herself often seen salt put into a churn as a protection against any evil influence.

A careful observer in Islay tells how that at one time their butter having left them and they had got none for some weeks, they sent for a woman, a professor in the neighbourhood. When she came they had a churning ready to commence with, but on examining it she advised that it should be thrown to the pigs, and added that they must clean and scrub well all the dishes used for gathering the milk, and that she would return on the next day they were ready for a churning. That day having come, the _eolas_ woman returned, and the first thing she did was to sprinkle a little salt on the bottom of the empty churn. The milk was then poured in and the churning commenced, with unexpectedly satisfactory results. The practitioner here was an _eolas_ woman of a very good sort, and set about her operations in a manner well calculated to be successful. On the farm, however, they regarded that butter with suspicion and sold it.

To judge from what we are told in the following as having occurred in the north of Ireland, so strong is the action of salt that it will put matters right with a bad churning, even though it neither touch cream nor churn. Failing one day to get their butter properly, the reciter’s master sent for an old woman in the immediate neighbourhood. When she came she just glanced at the churn, and seeing at once what was wrong, she said to the farmer, “If you like I will show you the one who has done the harm.” He assured her that he did not wish that, but would be pleased if she could do anything with the churning. Without more ado, so far as W. could see, she took a handful of salt, which she threw into a pot boiling on the fire. She then gave a turn or two at the churn, and sure enough the butter came all right.

We have already mentioned the use of salt in connection with sugar as put in milk given to a woman suspected of influencing her source of supply, and from which the dairymaid took the first mouthful as a sure preventative of evil, not only for the quantity immediately given, but also for any that would be supplied subsequently during the season.

One other instance of the use of salt we give on the authority of an Arran man of about sixty-five years of age, a shrewd business man, but of whom the collector says that to judge from appearances he thinks his knowledge of the island and his family connection with it extends about as far back as the origin of the island itself.

He said his father was a great believer in the Evil Eye. One day a neighbour, walking with him while ploughing, had spoken in praise of a brown horse that was in the plough. His acquaintance had hardly left when the horse turned ill, and lay down and kicked and groaned. It was unyoked and taken home, and the Evil Eye being suspected N. R.’s wife was sent for. She came and got a mixture of salt, soot, and a lot of other things which she rubbed on the horse. She felt it all over with her hand to find out the particular spot where the eye had struck. Whatever did it, the horse recovered and was quite well afterwards.

The passing the hand over the animal to feel for material damage is peculiar. This is a usual proceeding in cases of elf-shot, but not of the Evil Eye; however, of course the woman was thoroughly entitled to make her own diagnosis in her own way.

MOST SUITABLE WATER

In the course of the preceding, various sources for water used to cure Evil Eye have been mentioned. “A certain well.” This may have been a holy well of some sort, consecrated by traditional connection with some saint, though after all it may have been chosen merely to fulfil the condition mentioned elsewhere that a spring is preferable. A narrowing of the choice of springs from which water could be taken was shown in the case where one of our reciters told us that, believing the water _a bhiodh air a thoirt a tobar o’n taobh deas_ (should be taken from a south well), he proceeded to take it from a well south of his own house, while another mentioned that the water required to be taken from a spring facing the south.

While roughly one-half of our reciters have expressed a preference for well or spring water, the other half prefer running water. One said “it should come from a march burn,” and two mentioned “that it should be from a running stream,” not mentioning any advantage to be derived from its dividing two properties. One pointed out that a piece of bread must be in the possession of the taker. In two other instances the information was given that it must be taken where the living and the dead pass. The condition further annexed that it must be from under a bridge is probably merely an expression of the reciter’s own for this same idea. He would probably have considered stepping-stones, or a commonly used ford which led to a burial-place, as equally effective.

The specified qualifications really cover all the usual sources from which water can be drawn. From a native of Kintail, we hear of a case which was considered the result of the Evil Eye, though she spoke of the patient, a boy, having been “injured by some spell.” He was quickly cured by the sprinkling of water from a “certain well.”

An Islay reciter was very clear upon the necessity of choosing “_uisge fior_” (spring water).

From the same island, in a case where a cow was said to be suffering from “_buidseachas_” (witchcraft), which in this case seems to mean Evil Eye, the water was taken in a small tub from the Saligo River. The cow recovered, so if there is any doubt in any one’s mind as to a proper source of supply, he can always procure it in the river running from Lochgorm to the west of Islay.

Another reciter said that water would be more efficacious if taken from a point where three parishes touched each other, or failing that, from a spot from which three parishes could be seen, and that he knew of water being frequently taken from a spot which answered these conditions for healing purposes of the sort we are considering. This is again an invocation of the Trinity by suggestion.

A woman who herself practised _eolas_, when asked whether it mattered what sort of water she used, said “Oh yes, it must be water from a march over which the living and dead pass.” The use of this water need not apparently be accompanied by incantations and other formulæ.

A reliable informant mentioned a case which came under her own notice of a Skye woman living at Kenmore, who, having taken it into her head that a passing tramp had injured her child with the Evil Eye, “hurriedly bundling up her child, went with him to a little river near her house, and washed the boy under the bridge which was on the main road there, and the regular thoroughfare, alike for ordinary passengers and funeral processions.” In fact, a running water over which the living and the dead passed.

For dwellers in towns these instructions, if carried out, might mean considerable trouble, but in one case at any rate, in Campbeltown, Kintyre, a firm believer in the Evil Eye, with a view to her own protection, “used to stand over the water tap in her own kitchen and allow the water to run while she repeated some words over the running water.”

The position of some wells undoubtedly makes them fashionable. One of our informants who has lived at Crianlarich says that within the last thirty years she has known people come considerable distances to take water from a well between the old Priory and the Kirkton burying-ground, over which the “living and the dead” were wont to pass. It was taken for the purpose of curing cattle injured by an Evil Eye. A silver coin was generally in the vessel in which they carried away the water. The efficacy of this cure was commonly, if not universally, believed in by the people of the place.

TABOO WHEN IN POSSESSION OF WATER

In accordance with all the traditions of magical observance, we must expect to find the use of this curative water made dependent upon the observance of certain rules laid down by the professor. In one case already cited, a young person going with an old woman to a well for water, was ordered to keep silence, even though he himself was not carrying the water; and this was insisted upon rigidly. This was in Sutherland.

This insisting on silence is a very common taboo in other cases.

From an Arran reciter, in the case of an unmarried woman being sent for the _pisearachd_, as it is there called, the professor instructed her to go straight home, no further particulars being mentioned. This daughter of Eve and Adam sat down at the roadside and indulged her curiosity in examining what she had got from the _eolas_ woman. Our reciter said, “After this, of course, it was of no use; for anything these _eolas_ people give for curing should never be opened till it is going to be used. If it is opened before that, it will lose its virtue.” At any rate in this case it did no good, for the cow died.

Anything approaching careful reasoning in folklore matters is not to be expected, as in religion, faith takes the first place, and reason, if admitted at all, quite a back seat. Sometimes, however, things occur which tend to diminish superstitious faith and reassert the advantage of applied reason.

In Arran, a horse was supposed to be suffering from _cronachadh_. The farmer sent a woman to get the advice of a professor, W. She had to take care of a young child at the time, and probably it was not convenient for her to leave the child at home, anyhow, she took it with her in a shawl. Having told her errand to the _eolas_ man, he gave her a bottle with instructions how to use it. On her way home, constantly hitching up the child on her back, the cork came out of the bottle, and all that had been put in it was spilled. When she found this was the case she was in a “great stew” and wondered what she should do. She made up her mind that she would fill the bottle from the burn and say nothing of what had happened on reaching home if the horse did not get better; if it did she could tell the truth. She refilled her bottle, retailed the _eolas_ man’s instructions, the water was applied to the horse in accordance with these, and recovered. The woman now let out the secret, which, as may be supposed, somewhat shook the confidence of the public in the powers of that individual professor of _piscarachd_.

We have to take these stories as we get them. Cross-questioning the reciter has various results, from complete silence and a consequent drying-up of all information, to an acquiescence in anything they think will satisfy their interrogators. One is inclined to believe that in the following case a cracked bottle was deliberately given to the messenger so as to lead up to what happened. Our reciter said, “It was just last week I was speaking to R. G. about the man in R. One of his cows was ill, and a boy was sent to a man who cured cattle that had been _air an cronachadh_. The boy got a bottle with instructions, and was told, “I am not sure whether you will get back in time, but if the bottle does not break on the way and you can reach home before the cow dies, this will cure her.” The boy went as fast as he could, but when almost home the bottle broke in halves, and all that was in it was lost. He turned back and went as quick as he could to the _eolas_ man, who told him: “I knew the bottle would break, but I will make another that will not break, only I’m afraid you will not be in time.” The boy hurried home to find the cow dead.

One would have supposed that any one not a fool would have looked upon this as a trick, but the reciter, a tradesman who can read and write, really an intelligent man and shrewd in other matters, added, “Was it not wonderful that he knew the bottle would break?” The collector asked him what he supposed had caused it to break. “Oh, just the strength of the evil that was inside it. One evil trying to beat another evil; the man that gave the bottle, you see, was a strong wizard.” Asked to explain his idea as expressed by the one evil trying to beat the other, and was not the man who professed to cure as bad as the one who had done the harm, he explained his position by saying: “Well, no, it is right to do good and to beat the wicked one.”

The spilling of the water, and consequently the impossibility of recovering it from the ground, would naturally put an end to any hope of cure from it, but it would appear that even laying it down while in the bottle deprived it of its virtue, as already pointed out.

“When myself and my father,” said a reciter, “were in service at E——, I was the herd, and one of the milch cows was attacked and not a drop of milk was left with her, but there was nothing to be seen wrong. We had a suspicion of what it was, and I went up to a worthy, clever man (_duine corr gasda_) that would be at work curing beasts that were _air an cronachadh_. When I told him what was wrong he took a bottle from the corner, while I sat by the fire. It is not known what he said on the bottle, but when giving it to me, he said: ‘_Air na chunnaic mi riomh gun am botal a leigeil ris a ghrunnd gus an ruiginn dhachaidh_’ (‘Upon what I had ever seen not to let the bottle touch the ground until I would reach home’), and upon reaching to put what was in the bottle in the cow’s two ears, and he said that this would make her that she would have plenty of milk that same night. When I got home we did exactly as he had said, and the creature had plenty milk after that.”

The above occurred in Islay, but the same taboo was laid on the carriage of a like medicament in Rothiemurchus. The reciter said: “My mother was for a while that she could not get any butter. Whenever she would try to gather it, it would run like sand. At last her suspicions fell on a woman in the neighbourhood believed to have the Evil Eye. My mother was advised to consult a woman supposed to have skill in these things, then resident in the parish of Rothiemurchus. When she spoke of it to my father he did not object, and said he would speak about it to the woman’s husband, both being at that time at work about the laird’s house. Next day the woman’s husband promised my father that he would tell his wife, which he did, and she made something. I remember quite well being sent to the woman’s house for the thing that was to cure the cow; my sister was with me, and the woman gave us a bottle, and what was in it was just like clear water. When giving it to us she cautioned us to be careful of it, for it must not be allowed to touch the ground until it would reach the cow; and I remember how very carefully we carried it home, and how feared we were for it. The cow was made to swallow it, and whether it was that that did it, I cannot tell, but I know they believed it was. In any case, after that the butter came all right.”

The reciter of this, a woman aged about thirty-eight, was a crofter’s daughter, fairly well educated and more than usually intelligent.

A very full account of the taboos to be observed by the carrier of an _eolas_ cure comes from a reciter at Whiting Bay in Arran.

Two men, each having but one horse, were in the habit of doing their ploughing by uniting the pair in one team. One day both horses took ill and the Evil Eye was diagnosed. One of the owners sent for _eolas_ and his horse began to recover; the other man, who at first expressed disbelief, seeing his neighbour’s horse improving while his own did not, sent his niece, on the “sly,” to the same practitioner, Bean A., for _pisearachd_. It is the niece who gives us the information. “Well, I went, and I told her my errand. I had a shawl on my head. When she heard my errand she went and put her hand up the lum and took something from there, and then she went into a corner and took out three wee pokes as black as soot and took something out of them. She was in the dark, but I knew that there were stones in the pokes, for I heard them rattling. She then gave me a paper with something in it, and told me that I was on no account to open the paper or let light or air into it till I would reach home. As soon as I would reach I was to tell my uncle to put what was in the paper into a bottle of water, and that he was to sprinkle the water over the horse, repeating its name three times while sprinkling it. He was then to pour a little into each of its ears, and the rest, if there should be any over, he was to put in its food. These were her directions, and I went away with the paper; but two people met me on the road and spoke to me. I did not answer them properly, for I was afraid, but just said I ‘_iim_,’ keeping my mouth shut all the time. I had a strong wish to see what was in the paper, but was afraid if I would let in light or air it might be of no use. I resisted the temptation till I was nearly home, and then, getting behind a dyke, I put the shawl over my head in such a way that neither light nor air could get into the paper, as I thought. When I opened the paper what I saw were three wee black balls, black as soot, just like balls of soot. I never let on at home that I had opened the paper, and my uncle did all as he was ordered to do, and after a while the horse began to get better. I do not know whether it was the bottle that cured it, but it took a good while before it came to be quite well. People used to say that when a beast or body was _air a’ cronachadh_ it would take as long to complete the cure after the application of the _eolas_ as had been between the injury and the application of the cure. Bean A. assured my uncle afterwards that it was a person of the name of Stewart that had done the harm, and there were only three of that name in the place at that time. Suspicion fixed on one of them, and by-and-by they began to cast it up to her. She got angry and went to check my aunt for reporting a thing of the kind about her. This was the first my aunt had heard of the cure, for my uncle wanted to conceal it from her, and she was very angry with him for having sent to the _eolas_ woman.”

In the above an express proviso was that while sprinkling the water over the horse its name was to be repeated three times. The necessity for this was expressly laid down by a Sutherlandshire reciter who said, “The person or beast to be cured is made to drink some of this (silver water), and is also sprinkled all over with some of it. The sprinkling is done in the name of the Trinity, and the name of the person or beast being operated upon must also be mentioned. This is all that is needed if it is a case of Evil Eye.”

Of course there is a certain amount of pure swindle in some of these performances.

A lad was sent some miles in Islay for _eolas_ for a sick cow. He gave his account of the case to the man, who then promised him a bottle. Having got the bottle and directions for its use, the messenger put it in his pocket and took his way home. Before he had got quite half-way, he fancied he heard a “commotion” in the bottle, which was still in his pocket. He then discovered that the bottle had burst (?) and what had been in it had all gone. Thinking this was not as it should be, after standing for a minute or two wondering what he should do, he made up his mind to go back and tell the scientist what had happened. Back he went, made his report, and the man said to him: “Did they manage to do that to you? I’ll give you a bottle they cannot break.” He got another bottle ready, waved his hands over it before giving it to the lad, saying as he did so, “Here, _they_ cannot break this one, but the cow will not be saved.” He told the boy who had injured the cow. _They_ were the doers of the evil, evidently supposed to be acting with intention to do injury; so this case might be considered as one of witchcraft by those concerned in it.

WATER, WHERE APPLIED

There has been already occasion to mention that the instruction given with the healing water was to make the animal swallow some of it, but yet more frequently to sprinkle it on the beast. The most usual locality, however, to which it is ordered to be applied is that of the ears.

A reciter’s father-in-law had a sick horse which was supposed to have eaten or drunk nothing for some days. A woman in the neighbourhood was consulted, who, when she came into the stable, put some water (?) in the ear of the horse, saying some words at the same time. The horse, which was lying down, rose to its feet, began to eat, and recovered.

Another reciter told of her own husband, who got something in a bottle, which he was ordered to put a portion of in the horse’s ears, and to sprinkle some all over its body. As soon as he came home he did what he had been ordered, the sick horse rose to its feet, began to eat, and completely recovered.

In another case the reciter’s father had a grey horse which he described as not being _uamhasach bochd_ (frightfully bad), but it would not eat. To tempt the horse it was allowed in among their standing oats, but it would not bend its head to eat a bite. His father, taking the advice of another, went to J. R.’s grandmother and told her how the matter was. She assured him she would not be long in giving him what was wanted; she then gave him a bottle with the instruction, “_A chuir a cheud da spuit dhe na bha ’sa bhotal, aon anns gach cluais dhe ’n t-ainmhidh, agus an corr a chrathadh sios air a mhuidh, agus air a dhruim agus leigeil leis sruthadh sios air_.” (To put the first two spouts of what was in the bottle one in each ear of the horse, and to sprinkle the remainder down on his mane and on his back, and allow it to run down on him.) In this case also the horse gave himself a shake, began to eat, and recovered.

The same formula was applied to cattle. A Kintyre farmer had a sick cow, and was advised to consult an _eolas_ woman in the neighbourhood. Having no faith in that sort of thing, it was some time before he consented, but he did at last on the plea that it could do no harm. The woman being sent for, procured water and salt; these she put into the cow’s ear, reciting some unintelligible form of words. The cow seemed to brisk up at once, and the result was so satisfactory that the owner’s sister-in-law, who was present at the performance and had previously taken up a position of unbelief, said to him, “I think, J., there is something in it after all.”

We have already given the particulars of how two beautiful quey calves were affected by the Evil Eye of a woman who stared at them over the field dyke. One died, but the other was cured by what appeared to be pure water which the owner was told to put in the ear of the sick calf. When this was done it shook its head, got on its feet, and recovered.

These cases all get the credit of being recoveries. But a Dumbartonshire case was less successful. When the reciter was in service one of the cows took ill, and old J. W., who was always in the byres and well acquainted with cattle, insisted that the beast was ill from the influence of some one _aig am bheil droch shuil_ (who had an Evil Eye). Nothing would satisfy him till a woman, A. T., was sent for. She did not find it convenient to come herself, but sent a bottle with water in it, instructing the messenger how to put it in the cow’s ear. The instructions were carefully carried out, but the cow died.

Any person who had been made to shudder by the inside of the ear being tickled, would see at once how the animal was recalled to activity.

The following, from a native of Tiree, shows either that he had forgotten the instruction given to put the water directly into the ears, or the professor, while still remembering the shaking of the head as sign of returning activity, had contented himself with the simple sprinkling. It was the reciter’s cousin who went to the _eolas_ man, and who, having “made up a bottle,” told him to sprinkle it on the horse when he would reach home; and if it would shake its ears when the stuff would go on it, he said it would live, but if not they need do no more, for it would die. Our information was that the thing was done according to the directions given, as soon as the horse felt the water it shook its ears, and as the _eolas_ man had said, recovered.

ODD CURES

There are some odd cures mentioned in individual cases.

HONEYSUCKLE CURE

From a good correspondent in the North of Argyllshire comes the following account of a clerk in a factor’s office. He complained at times, and certainly did not look very well, but not much attention was paid to him, as any illness he had did not seem serious. “A frail old woman came into his parents’ house one evening as the lad returned to supper. She looked at him keenly, waited till he went out, and then asked, ‘What is he complaining of?’ His mother was surprised, but answered that he was feeling the confinement in his office a good deal, but that there was not much wrong. ‘You need not tell me that,’ said the old woman, ‘I can easily see there is something very real the matter with him. Some one has laid their Evil Eye upon him. I’ll tell you what you should do. Go to the woods, get a good long bit of the _iadh-shlait_, take it and twist it this way round his whole body, repeating the following words, and you will see your son hale and hearty soon.’ The lad’s mother did not believe in the cure and did not try it, nor could she give the words recommended to be used.” The plant here is the honeysuckle, the Gaelic name given being used for it alone in the district. Dictionaries, however, say that it is also used for “ivy,” which in those parts as elsewhere is called _eitheann_.

CAT CURE

The reciter, a probationer of the Free Church and well up in folklore matters, when in Harris, of which he was a native, heard of the following. A man’s cow was taken suddenly ill, and the only conclusion they could come to was that it was a case of Evil Eye. The owner of the cow, acting on advice, took a cat and rubbed it on the cow. The cow recovered.

RUBBING HAIR THE WRONG WAY

The reciter’s grandfather was a Stratherrick man (Loch Ness), and when attending the market there, was approached by another man to sell him a stirk. There was a good deal of bargaining. No agreement was come to, the offerer leaving as if dissatisfied. Before the market closed the stirk fell to the ground and could not be got to rise. F.’s suspicions of course fell upon the rejected offerer. An acquaintance who also was attending the market, and was supposed to have eolas, happened to come about, and seeing F. in distress reassured him: “_Cha’n eagal do’n bheachan a laochain_.” (“No fears of the beast, my lad.”) He then drew the palm of his hand up the stirk’s back against the hair, repeating words which the reciter, however, had never heard. The stirk got on its feet and was soon brisk and well.

CHANGING THE FIREPLACE

“There was a man living in Machri whose cattle and horses were dying, and things generally going against him. He knew quite well it was the Evil Eye, so he consulted a _buidseach_. The _buidseach_ told him to change his fire to the other end of the house. Having done this his cattle recovered, and he was prosperous ever after.”

Unfortunately this is the whole information available. The cattle not improbably were housed beneath the same roof as himself; but it would be of no benefit speculating as to the effect of changing the fireplace nearer to or farther from his stock. All that can be said is that the change of position of the fireplace was credited with a change in the man’s luck.

THE POWER OF A CHILD’S MUTCH

Whether the child in this case was suffering directly from the Evil Eye the reciter was not prepared to say.

In the neighbourhood of Tayinloan, Kintyre, there were several women who professed to be able to cure sicknesses arising from the Evil Eye. One of these women was sent for in the case of a child thought to be dying. When she arrived the household were gathered round the child, thinking he was approaching immediate death. When the woman looked at him she said nothing, but asked for a child’s mutch (close cap), and when it was given her she went outside, repeated a charm over it, and returning, put the mutch on the child’s head and said he would soon be well. In a little while he kicked and stretched himself, and it was not long till he was all right.

WHISKY CURE

In only one case have we heard of this universal solvent of misfortune being used as a cure for the Evil Eye. The churning was unsuccessful; the dairymaid was convinced that it was a case of Evil Eye, and advised that a glass of whisky should be put in the churn. The advice was not taken, so we have still to learn the effects of whisky in like case. This was in Caithness-shire, where belief in the Evil Eye is very common.

LEAD DROPPING

We have already considered the reference of the diagnosis to the augury of a piece of silver sticking to the bottom of a dish. All sorts of prognostications are got by pouring albumen of eggs into water as well as melted lead; the latter was used in the following instance of what it disclosed as a case of Evil Eye.

The reciter was a well-educated sick-nurse, of middle age and thoroughly reliable. A girl had taken suddenly ill. A young man in the neighbourhood was desirous of marrying her, but the suitor was not acceptable, and the girl took every opportunity of letting this be seen. A neighbour, supposed to have special skill and whose method of hanky-panky was the dropping of melted lead into water, was consulted. She went through her performance and showed the lead, part of it at least, in the form of a heart with a hole through it. She explained to the sick girl, “Look at that, his eye is in you and you are far better to take him.” The match was made, and the girl recovered her health. The same woman, going through the same performance with reference to a sick lad, showed to his aunt and sister some of the lead in the form of a coffin, and from that pronounced the case hopeless. The lad shortly thereafter died.

In the case of the pierced heart, there is no doubt, the idea on the part of the reciter was that actual illness was brought on by the desirous eye of the young man, not merely that the lad had an eye to her as a satisfactory partner.

AN EYE FOR AN EYE

We have pointed out that the belief in an Evil Eye is founded upon a literal acceptance apparently of the validity of the commandment “Thou shalt not covet.” To the writer this seems the hardest of the Decalogue. It forbids thoughts which pass involuntarily through the mind. A person to whom Nature has given an ambitious and acquisitive disposition breaks this commandment necessarily, however openhanded may be his practice. With all reverence, the commandment seems to be a pushing into the region of thought what has been forbidden in practice by the commandment “Thou shalt not steal.” No doubt to covet means more than a simple liking to possess, and it is the inordinate, the excessive desire which is forbidden. The theory of the Evil Eye as demonstrated in the beliefs of the West Highlanders shown here may have sprung entirely, and owe their origin to, if not the tenth commandment of the Decalogue, an acceptance as valid of the instruction therein contained. The acceptance of this commandment as binding, demonstrates that there is a power for evil in thought alone. The covetous man’s eye is “in it,” let him do as he likes. This power is shown vividly by the belief so often expressed that admiration of one’s own possessions will result in evil to them.