passed, he beheld the slates and tiles flying
from the roof, as if dispersed by a whirlwind. At his entry, he
perceived all the wax-tapers (the most essential instruments of
conjuration) extinguished, except one, which already burned blue in
the socket. The arrival of the experienced sage changed the scene: he
brought the spirit to reason; but, unfortunately, while addressing a
word of advice or censure to his rash brother, he permitted the ghost
to obtain the _last word_; a circumstance which, in all colloquies of
this nature, is strictly to be guarded against. This fatal oversight
occasioned his falling into a lingering disorder, of which he never
recovered.

A curious poem, upon the laying of a ghost, forms article No. V. of
the Appendix.]

It is unnecessary to mention the superstitious belief in witchcraft,
which gave rise to so much cruelty and persecution during the
seventeenth century. There were several executions upon the borders
for this imaginary crime, which was usually tried, not by the ordinary
judges, but by a set of country gentlemen, acting under commission
from the privy council[52].

[Footnote 52: I have seen, _penes_ Hugh Scott, Esq. of Harden, the
record of the trial of a witch, who was burned at Ducove. She was
tried in the manner above mentioned.]

Besides these grand articles of superstitious belief, the creed of
the borderers admitted the existence of sundry classes of subordinate
spirits, to whom were assigned peculiar employments. The chief of
these were the Fairies, concerning whom the reader will find a long
dissertation, in Volume Second. The Brownie formed a class of beings,
distinct in habit and disposition from the freakish and mischievous
elves. He was meagre, shaggy, and wild in his appearance. Thus,
Cleland, in his satire against the Highlanders, compares them to

"Faunes, or _Brownies_, if ye will,
Or satyres come from Atlas hill."

In the day time, he lurked in remote recesses of the old houses which
he delighted to haunt; and, in the night, sedulously employed himself
in discharging any laborious task which he thought might be acceptable
to the family, to whose service he had devoted himself. His name is
probably derived from the _Portuni_, whom Gervase of Tilbury describes
thus: "_Ecce enim in Anglia daemones quosdam habent, daemones, inquam,
nescio dixerim, an secretae et ignotae generationis effigies, quos
Galli Neptunos, Angli Portunos nominant. Istis insitum est