had been killed at the battle of Pinkye
(fifteen hundred and forty-seven), but was
now a dweller in Elfame or Fairy-land.
Thom stopped her, asking why she was
weeping so sorely; poor Bessie told him
her troubles. The little old man soothed
her by assuring her that, though her cow
and child would die, yet her husband would
recover; and Bessie, after being "sumthing
fleit" at seeing him pass through too narrow
a hole in the dyke for an honest, earthly man to
pass through, yet returned home comforted
at hearing that her goodman would mend.
After this, she and Thom forgathered
several times. Once he came to her house,
and took her away, in the presence of
her husband and three tailors—they seeing
nothing—to where twelve people were assembled
waiting for her. These were eight
women and four men, all "errie semelie
lyk to see;" and they were the "gude
wichtis that wynnit in the Court of Elfame,"
who had come to persuade her to go away
with them. But Bessie refused. Half
demented as she was, she was loyal to her
husband and her children, and would have
nothing to say to a separation from them;
though Thom Reid was angry and told her
"it would be worse for her." Once, too, the
Queen of the Fairies, a stout, comely woman,
came to her, as she was again "lying in
gissane," and asked for a drink, which Bessie
gave her. She told her that the child would
die, but that her husband would recover:
for poor Andro Jak seems to have been often
in a delicate condition, and to have given
Bessie's faithful heart many an anxious hour.
Then Thom began to teach her the art of
healing. He gave her roots wherewith to
make salves for sheep or cows, or children
"taken with an evill blast of wind or
elf-grippit:" and she cured many people, by
following, as she said, the old man's directions.
For instance, she healed Lady
Johnstone's daughter, married to the young Laird
of Stanelie, by giving her a drink made of
strong ale, boiled with cloves, ginger, aniseed,
liquorice, and white sugar: which Thom said
was good for her complaint—"a cold blood
that went about her heart, and caused her to
pine and fall away." But she could not mend
old Lady Kilbowye's leg. It had been
crooked all her life, and now, he said, the
marrow was consumed and the blood
benumbed. It was hopeless; and it would be
worse for her if she asked for fairy help
again. Bessie also found stolen goods, under
Thorn's directing; and those which she could
not find, she could at least tell of. Thus,
Hugh Scott's cloak could not be returned,
because it had been made into a kirtle: and
James Baird and Henry Jamesoun could not
recover their plough irons, because James
Douglas, the sheriff's officer, had accepted a
bribe of three pounds not to find them. Lady
Blair, too, after having "dang and wrackit"
her servants on account of certain linen of
which she had been robbed, learned by the
mouth of Bessie, prompted by Thom, that
Margaret Symple, her own friend and relation,
had stolen it. With divers other like
revelations. Bessie also received from the
hands of her ghostly friend a green silk lace,
which, if tacked to the "wylie coat," and
wound about the left arm of any woman
about to be a mother, would facilitate
recovery marvellously. She lost the lace;
insinuating that Thom took it away again;
but kept her fatal character for more
medical skilfulness than belonged to an
ordinary or canny old wife. She said that
she often saw Thom Reid going about like
other people. He would be in the streets of
Edinburgh, handling goods like any living
man; but she never spoke to him, unless he
spoke to her first: he had forbidden her
to do so. The last time she met him before her
arrest, he told her of the evil that was to
come: but he buoyed her up with false
hopes, assuring her that she would be well
treated and eventually stand clear. Poor
Bessie Dunlop!—After being cruelly tortured,
and her not very strong brain utterly
disorganised, she was "convict and burnt" on
the Castle Hill, of Edinburgh. A mournful
commentary on her elfin friend's brave words
and promises.

On the twenty-eighth of May, fifteen
hundred and eighty-eight, Alesoun Peirsoun was
haled before a just judge and sapient jury, on
the same accusation of witchcraft, and
consorting with the fairy folk. This Alesoun, or
Alison Pearson, had a certain cousin, one
William Simpson, who, according to her
account, had been carried to Egypt by a man
of Egypt (gipsy) when he was a mere lad,
and had there been educated in the medical
profession, in which he seems to have been
more than ordinarily skilful. Simpson's
father had been smith to gracious majesty;
but, during his son's absence in Egypt, he
had died, for "opening a priest's book, and
looking upon it,"—a fact as veracious as all
the rest of this crazed narrative. Well, Mr.
William once cured his cousin of some curious
disorder, thereby gaining great influence
over her; which he abused by taking her
with him to fairy land, and introducing her
to the good neighbours, whose company he
himself had affected for many years. They
treated poor Alison very harshly. They
used to beat and knock her about till she
was terrified out of the small wits she
ever possessed; and frequently she was
left by them covered with bad bruises, and
perfectly powerless. She was never free
from her questionable associates. They used
to come upon her at all times, and initiate
her into their secrets, whether she liked it
or no. They used to show her how they
gathered their herbs before sunrise, and
she would watch them with their pans
and fires making the "saws," or salves,
that could kill or cure all who used them,