and the funniest fellow of them all—showing no
end of boldness and broad humour, and eminently
deserving the special embalming which he has
received.

Now, this was the history of the Devil of
Glenluce:

In 1654, one Gilbert Campbell was a weaver
in Glenluce: his eldest son, Tom—the
important character in the drama—was a student
at Glasgow college; and there was a certain sturdy
old beggar, Andrew Agnew by name, afterwards
hanged at Dumfries for blasphemously saying,
"There was no God but salt, meal, and water"—
who every now and then came to Glenluce to
ask alms. One day old Andrew came to the
Campbells as usual, but got nothing; in
consequence whereof—so you are required to believe
—he sent a devil to haunt the house; for, it was
soon after he was refused, that the stirs began,
and what could they be but from the Devil sent
by old Andrew in revenge? Young Tom Campbell
was the worst beset of all; the Demon
perpetually whistling and rioting about him. Once,
Jennet, the daughter, going to the well, heard
a whistling behind her, like that produced
by the small slender glass whistles of children,
and a voice like the damsel's, saying, "I'll cast
thee, Jennet, into the well! I'll cast thee,
Jennet, into the well!" About the middle of
November, when the days were dark and the
nights long, things got very bad. The foul
fiend threw stones in at the doors and windows
and down the chimney head; cut the warp and
threads of Campbell's loom; slit the family
coats and bonnets, shoes and hose, into ribbons;
pulled off the bed-clothes from the sleeping
children, and left them cold and naked; opened
chests and trunks, and strewed the contents
over the floor; knocked everything about, and
ill-treated the bairns; and, in fact, persecuted
the whole family in a most merciless manner.
The weaver sent his children away, thinking
their lives but barely safe; and, in their absence
had no assaults whatever—a thing to be
especially noted. But on the wise minister's
representing to him that he had done a grievous
sin in so withdrawing them from God's punishment,
they were brought back again, in contrition.
Nothing ensued until Tom appeared.
Unlucky Tom brought the Devil back with
him, and there was no more peace to be
had.

On the Sunday following Tom's return, the
house was set on fire—the Devil's doing: but the
neighbours put it out again before much damage
had been done. Monday was spent in prayer;
but on Tuesday the place was again set on
fire, and again saved by the neighbours' help.
The weaver, in much trouble, went to the
minister, and besought him to take back that
unlucky Tom, whom the Devil so cruelly
persecuted: which request, after a while, he
"condescended to," though assuring the weaver that he
would find himself deceived if he thought that
the Devil would quit with the boy. And, indeed,
so it proved, for they were soon again sore
troubled: the Demon cutting their clothes,
throwing peats down the chimney, pulling down
turf and "feal" from the roof and walls, stealing
their coats, pricking their poor bodies with
pins, and raising such a clamour as there was no
peace nor rest to be had.

The case was becoming serious. Glenluce
objected to being made the head-quarters of
the Demon; and the ministers convened a
solemn humiliation; the upshot of which was,
that Weaver Campbell was positively to take
back his unlucky Tom, with the Devil or without
him. For this was the point at issue in the
beginning, the motive of which is not very hard
to be discovered. Whereupon Tom returned;
but, as he crossed the threshold, he heard a voice
"forbidding him to enter that house, or any
other place where his father's calling was
exercised." Was Tom, the Glasgow student, afraid
of being made a weaver, consent or none
demanded? In spite of the warning voice he
valiantly entered, and his persecutions, of
course, began at once. They were tremendous—
in fact, they were so tremendous that he was
forced to return to the minister's house; but he
evidently left behind him some imitator or
disciple worthy of his teaching, for on Monday, the
12th of February, the Demon began to speak
to the family, who, nothing afraid, answered
quite cheerily, and the family and the Devil
soon got so confidential and familiar that
they had long talks together; but on what
topics does not quite appear. The ministers,
hearing of this, convened again, and met
at Weaver Campbell's to see what they could
do. As soon as they entered, Satan began:
"Quum literatum is good Latin," quoth he.
These were the first words of the Latin
rudiments, as taught in the grammar school.
Tom's classical knowledge was coming into
play.

After a while he cries again: "A dog! a
dog!" The minister, thinking he was alluded
to, answered, "he thought it no ill to be reviled
of him;" to which Satan replied civilly: "It
was not you, sir, I spoke to. I meant the dog
there," for there was a dog standing behind
backs. They then went to prayer. Always
at such times, Tom, or the Devil, remained
reverently silent; his education being not
carried out yet to the point of scoffing.
Immediately after prayer was ended, a counterfeit
voice asked, "Would ye know the witches of
Glenluce? I will tell ye them," naming four
or five persons of indifferent repute; one of
whom was dead. The weaver said this, thinking
to have caught him tripping, but the Demon
answered promptly, "It is true she is dead
long ago, but her spirit is living with us in the
world."

The minister replied, saying ("though it
was not convenient to speak to such an
excommunicated intercommuned person"), "The
Lord rebuke thee, Satan, and put thee to silence.
We are not to receive information from thee,
whatsoever fame any person goes under. Thou
art seeking but to seduce this family, for
Satan's kingdom is not divided against itself."