This is how the last each-uisge that was in Lewis came to his end: A man lived in Erista, in the parish of Uig, who was the tenant tacksman not only of that and the neighbouring village but of the extensive tract of land between Loch Roag and Loch Langabhat. In the summer season he used to send his cattle to graze on the moor with two females to look after them. The women lived in a shieling in Glen Langabhat-where the ruins of the shieling are still to be seen. The women were frequently visited by the each-uisge in human form, but as he conducted himself in no way disagreeably they did not feel any repugnance to his visits. In the course of time, however, he seems to have undergone a change of disposition, inasmuch as his conduct towards them became highly offensive. He not only insulted and ill-treated themselves, but committed great depredations among their master’s cattle-killing some of them on the spot and carrying some of them away. But, says my informant, he always had the form of a quadruped when he killed them on the spot, but of a man when taking them away and visiting the women. His indignities towards the women and his depredations amongst the cattle increased to such an extent that the women left the field to himself, and made their way to Erista, where they told their master how matters stood. Their master, not believing their reports, and deriding their cowardice, sent two ‘ sgallag’s’ to the moors to see what was the real state of matters. When the ‘ sgallag’s’ came in sight of Glen Shanndaig they saw the each-uisge in the act of taking one of the cattle away. This satisfied them, and they returned and told their master what they had seen. The owner of the cattle saw that he must get the each-uisge killed or else his cattle would be all lost to him. There was a man in Eashadir on the shores of Loch Roag who was a famous archer and who had killed some time before two each-uisge’s, one in Skye and another in the parish of Lochs (Lewis). To him, then, the owner of the cattle went and offered him a great reward if he could kill the each-uisge. The archer, whose name was Macleod, agreed to go at once. He accordingly took his bow and arrows and started for the glen, accompanied by his son, who did not know where they were bound for till they were half-way on their journey. When the son heard the object of the journey he would not by any means go, but wished to return home and let his father go alone. The father would not permit this, but bound his son with cords and left him there. Macleod proceeded alone on his way, and when he came in sight of the glen he saw the each-uisge coming up from the loch and making for him. He held himself in readiness, and when the beast was within range he let fly the arrow, which stuck in the creature’s side, but did not in the least impede his progress. As he came still nearer, the man let go a second arrow, which caused the each-uisge to stagger, but still he came on with his mouth wide open and his eyes glaring. The man saw he was in danger and took out the Baobhag, the Fury of the Quiver, and placing it waited till the creature was near, when he fired it so that it went in at its mouth and through its heart. The beast fell dead, and Macleod cut off its tail as a pledge that he had killed the each-uisge, and picking up the Baobbag returned to the tacksman, who rewarded him generously. Anon ‘Fairy Tales’, The Celtic Review 5 (1908), 155-171 at 166-168

In the island of Pabbay, Harris, an old woman and her daughter were cutting corn in the field. The daughter had a young son, and there being none with whom the child could be left at home, she brought it out with her to the field, and placed it on the soft grass at the side of the corn rig. It had not been there long till it commenced to cry and whine. The mother was going over to it when the grandmother stopped her, saying that it was not her own child-that she had seen the Fairies take it away, and that they had left an old man Fairy in its stead. The child continued crying, the mother and grandmother taking no notice. At length the old woman (who possessed the faculty of second sight) saw the Fairies returning with the abducted child, and after removing the old man, placed it in its original position. The old man ceased crying as soon as his own people took him away, and the child sat quite still. The mother wondered that the child ceased crying so suddenly and that without any inducement, when the grand-mother told her it was the old man who cried all the time, and that the crying ceased only when the other Fairies took him away. In order that they should not attempt to steal the child a second time, the old woman made her daughter tie an iron button which she had round the child’s neck. The old woman was a native of St. Kilda. Anon ‘Fairy Tales’, The Celtic Review 5 (1908), 155-171 at 161-162

In the village of Erista, Uig, now depopulated, there was a man whose child was carried away by the Fairies, but as usual they left one in its place. But the substitute was sick and unhealthy, and continued so, notwithstanding the tender care taken of it. The old woman referred to in the story preceding came that way, and having heard of the sick child, came to the house. She told the goodwife that the child she nourished was not her own, but a worn-out Fairy, and that in order to recover her own child she must cast the false one away. To remove any doubts that might be in the goodwife’s mind, the woman advised her to knead a bannock of meal and to bake it against the fire, supported on nine wooden pegs or pins-the lower ends of which should be fixed in the hearth, and the others stuck in the edge of the bannock, and this done, to hide herself where she could see and hear the child, and if the child exhibited any extra-ordinary symptoms she might be sure it was a Fairy. The mother did so, and was not long in concealment when she saw the child raise its head in the cradle, and after look-ing round, exclaim, “S fada beo mi, ach cha ‘n fhaca mi a leithid do chul-leac ri bonnach.’ (I have lived long, but I never saw such a back stone (support) to a bannock.) To hear a child of its age speak, and that in such old-mannish accents, was enough to convince the mother. She consulted the old woman further, when she was told to throw the child into the river, and that her own child would soon be restored to her. She did so, and the’ infant’ commenced crying mightily for help-imploring mercy, but the goodwife was inexorable. In the morning she found her own child sleeping quietly in the cradle, which but the day before had been occupied by an old Fairy. Anon ‘Fairy Tales’, The Celtic Review 5 (1908), 155-171 at 160-161

In Pabbay, an island in Loch Roag, a child of a few days old was kidnapped by the Fairies in consequence of the carelessness of the woman to whom it was intrusted. The parents did not suspect that it was not their own child they were rearing, as the Fairies had left one in its stead, till an old woman from Valtos, the village opposite the island, came across to visit her daughter, and happening to be in the house, made some remarks on the child’s appear-ance. After examining the parents and handling the baby, the woman assured them that they fostered a Fairy instead of their own child. In order to get their own child restored to them, she recommended the father to put a pot of water on the fire, and then conceal himself till the water boiled in a place where he could see the child and hear it should it speak. The man did so, and no sooner did the water begin to boil than the child of but a few months old began to speak. ‘Fhearchair, thoir dheth an coire. Tha’n coire goil.’ (‘Farquhar, take off the kettle. The kettle is boiling.’) This was uttered in the hollow and tremulous tones of an old woman. The man was terrified at such an extraordinary occurrence and went directly to his adviser, who was in her daughter’s house, and related the circumstance, and sought her further advice. She told him to leave the Fairy child at midnight on the side of a hillock in the neighbourhood,an d not to trouble himself about it till morning at dawn, when he should go to the same place and bring back his own child, which, she said, the Fairies would bring there shortly after the other had been left. The man went to the hillock in the morning and carried home the child found there. The child throve and grew up to womanhood, and died at a good old age. My informant knew the woman, a nephew of whom was recently living in the parish of Uig. Anon ‘Fairy Tales’, The Celtic Review 5 (1908), 155-171 at 159-160.

A man from Harris was deer-hunting in Bealach a’ Sgail. (The Glen of the Echo, the pass between the hills Li fo thuath and Li fo dheas-North Lea and South Lea in North Uist. Here Gilleaspa Dubh was murdered by his nephew.) In the hollow of the glen he came upon a man in the act of skinning a deer. The man, who was a stranger, appeared to be much disconcerted at being thus caught, and expressed a hope that he fell into good hands. The Harris man assured him that he need fear nothing on his account. The stranger took courage on being thus assured and entered upon a conversation with the man. Not seeing a dog with the Harris man, the stranger asked if he had any at home, to which the man replied in the negative. The stranger wondered at a huntsman being without a dog and offered him his own-a large grizzled hound that crouched beside him, adding:

‘Soilleir fuil air cu ban,

‘Soilleir cu dubh air liana,

‘S nam bithinn ris an fhiadhach,

B’e ‘n cu riabhach mo roghann’;

which means:

‘Visible is blood on a white dog,

Visible is a black dog on a meadow,

And if I were deer-hunting

The grizzled dog would be my choice.’

The stranger pointed to the dog, and the Harris man stooped down to take hold of the dog’s leash. On turning round to thank the donor, neither he nor the carcass could be seen. It was not till the sudden disappearance of the stranger that the man apprehended that he was a fairy. The Harris man kept the dog for a long time, until one day as he was passing the identical hollow in which he met the Fairy he heard a shrill whistling-the dog cocked his ears and made off, and his late owner never saw him again. Anon ‘Fairy Tales’, The Celtic Review 5 (1908), 155-171 at 156-157

In a village in the Island of Bernera, Lewis, there is a small hillock called Sithean, in connection with which the following story is told. A man in the village whose house was in the neighbour-hood of the hillock used to be much annoyed by the Fairies. The story says that they were in the habit of borrowing pots and cooking-pans from his wife-sometimes returning them, sometimes not. The man came home one day from fishing, and being hungry asked for some food. His wife told him she could not get any food prepared for him as the Fairies had taken away the pot from her in the morning. The goodman desired her to go to one of her mortal neighbours and borrow a pot until her own should be returned. On the way to her neighbour’s house, as she passed the hillock she saw the door of the Fairies’ habitation wide open, and directly opposite it her own pot. She entered and beheld a number of people inside, and prominent among them an old man wearing a green cap. There was also a large dog with a yellow collar leashed in a corner of the dwelling. No sooner did she remove the pot than the old man ordered the dog to be set after her in the following words:

Bhean bhalbh ud ‘s a bhean bhalbh

Thainig a tir na marbh

Thug i ‘n coire leatha na crubh

Fuasgail an Guth ‘s leig an Garg.

The translation is literally:

That dumb woman and the dumb woman

Who came from the land of the dead

Took the kettle with her in her talons

Unloose the Voice and let free the Fierce. (Voice and Fierce apply to the dog.)

The woman took to her heels, and did not part with the pot although the dog was in full cry after her. As she was entering the door of her own house, the dog overtook her and caught her by the heel. The woman pulled hard and the dog held fast. At last the woman got free and entered the house, but–minus a heel. The return of the article borrowed depended on the following lines being recited by the lender on handing over the article to the borrower:- ‘ Dleasaidh gobha gual Gu iarunn fuar a bhleith, Dleasaidh coire enaimh ‘S a cur slan gu teach’; signifying :- ‘A blacksmith is entitled to coal To grind the cold iron; A kettle is entitled to a bone And to be sent home safely.’ The wife had neglected to recite these lines when she lent the pot-which was the reason it was not returned. If the lines were recited, not only was the pot returned, but with it a bone of beef, mutton, or venison, with a good deal of meat on it. Anon ‘Fairy Tales’, The Celtic Review 5 (1908), 155-171 at 155-156

The Fairies are said to be as fond of deer’s milk as of venison. On a hill called Beinn Bhreac there was frequently seen a noted Fairy milking the deer. She was one day observed by two hunters going round the deer, and after gathering them into a gorge in the side of the hill she commenced milking them one by one, singing a kind of lullaby the while, till she came to one which was so restive as not to suffer her to come near but ran off up the hill, she following with almost equal speed. Seeing that she was loosing ground, she suddenly stopped and exclaimed :-

‘Saighead Fhionnlaidh ort a bhradaig Ge b’ oil le d’ ladhranb heiri stad ort Luaidhe Mhic Iain Chaoil ‘na d’ chraicionn ‘S buarach na Baoibhe mu t’ adharcan.’

‘Finlay’s arrow in thee, thou thief, In spite of thy hoofs it will make thee stop; Mac Iain Chaoil’s lead in thy carcass And the Fairy’s Buarach on thy horns (legs).’

Finlay was the chief of the Fairies, as is evident from their being called ‘Sluagh Fhionnlaidh,’ or Finlay’s People. My informant could not tell who ‘Mac Iain Chaoil’ was. The English of the name is Son of Slender John. The Fairy herself was the Fury. Buarach is a kind of shackle made of hair or hemp used to tie round the hind legs of cows to keep them from kicking while they are being milked. It is universally used in the Outer Hebrides to the present day. No sooner had the Bean-shith or Fairy woman pro-nounced these words than the deer stopped and suffered herself to be milked. The Pibroch of Cronan Cailleach na Beinne Bric is said to have been composed upon this Fairy, the air being in imitation of the tones and modulations of her voice in her lullaby when milking the deer. Anon ‘Fairy Tales’, The Celtic Review 5 (1908), 155-171 at 157-158

In an island in Loch Roag there is a conical hillock said to have been the favourite resort of Fairies. The people of the island began building a turf fence for the purpose of keeping the cattle from coming in on the arable land. The line of the fence passing near the base of the hillock, they cut a quantity of turf off the side of the knoll. On the day following that on which the sods were cut a young lad-an amateur bagpipe-player-was employed in boring a piece of wood in order to make a chanter of it, when a strange woman came to him, and saluting him, told him that she would put him in the way of getting a much better chanter than he could ever make, provided he would place the sods which were cut in yonder hill yesterday in their original places. He had scarcely come back from replacing the sods when the strange woman made her appearance, and after expressing her approbation of the manner in which he had executed the work, she told him to get Maide nan Cuaran a stick stuck in the wall on which brogues were hung-and work it down to the shape of a chanter, and bore it, and after he had finished to put in the mouthpiece a reed which she handed him. He finished the chanter to the best of his ability and inserted the Fairy’s reed. The music played on the bagpipes with that chanter excelled all other pipe music. The chanter was kept for many generations by the descendants of the lad in Uig till they emigrated to America, when they took the chanter with them. Anon ‘Fairy Tales’, The Celtic Review 5 (1908), 155-171 at 158-159

Mrs. Morris, of Cwm Vicarage, near Rhyl, told the writer the following story; She stated that she had heard it related in her family that one of her people had in childhood been induced by the fairies to follow them to their country. This boy had been sent to discharge some domestic errand, but he did not return. He was sought for in all directions, but could not be found. His parents came to the conclusion that he had either been murdered or kidnapped, and in time he was forgotten by most people, but one day he returned with what he had been sent for in his hand. But 80 many years had elapsed since he first left home that he was now an old gray-haired man, though he knew it not; he had, he said, followed, for a short time, delightful music and people; but when convinoed, by the changes around, that years had slipped by since he first left his home, he was so distressed at the changes he saw that he said he would return to the fairies. But alas! he sought in vain for the place where he had met them, and therefore he was obliged to remain with his blood relations. Owen, Elias ‘Welsh Fairy Tales for Christmas’, The Cambrian 12 (1881) 372-373

With the exception of the proverbs and legends, few traces of [Northamptonshire Bogie] remain; and time, which has cast a lenient eye upon his fellows, has been particularly hard upon the domestic spirit. His name, it is true, has yet terrors for unruly children; but what a degradation for a goblin wluo was formerly the dread of full-grown ones! The same waves among which tradition has assigned a resting place for the disorderly spirits of our ancestors, have also been the place of exile of the Bogies. ‘What has become of all these spirits?’ said we to a promising specimen of the genus rusticus, on whom we had been pursuing our researches. ‘What, arnt you heerd?’ was the response. ‘No,’ said we, with an ignorant look, expecting to elicit some inedited legend respecting their gradual extinction. ‘Why, then, I’ll tell ’e: a deadly long time ago, the paasons all laid their yeads togither, and hiked ’em of to the Red Saa.’ Sternberg, 141