Margaret Wallace and Her Dear Burd

Margaret Wallace and Her Dear Burd By E. Lynn Linton © 2008 by http://www.HorrorMasters.com

Margaret Wallace (1622), spans to John Dynning, merchant and citizen of Glasgow hated Cuthbert Greg. She had sent Cristiane Grahame to him, wanting his dog; but he would not give it, saying, “I rather ye and my hussie (cummer, gossip) baith was brunt or ye get my dog.” Margaret, coming to the knowledge of this speech, went to him angrily, and said, “Ffals landloupper loun that thaw art, sayis thaw that Cristiane Grahame and I sall be brunt for witches? I vow to God I sall doe ye ane evill turne.” So she did, by means of a cake of bread, casting on him the most strange, unnatural, and unknown disease, such as none could mend or understand. Suspecting that he was bewitched, his friends got her to come and undo the mischief she had done: so she went into the house, took him by the “schaikill bane” (shoulder-blade) with one hand, and laid the other on his breast, but spoke no word, only moved her lips; then passed from him on the instant. The next day she went again to his house, and took him up out of bed, leading him to the kitchen and three or four times across the floor, though he had been bedridden for fifteen days, unable to put his foot to the ground. And if all that was not done by devilish art and craft, how was it done? asked the judges and the jury. Another time she went to the house of one Alexander Vallange, where she was taken with a sudden “brasch” of sickness, and was so hardly holden that they thought she would have “ryved” herself to fits. She cried out piteously for her “dear burd,” and the bystanders thought she meant her husbammd: but it turned out to be the witch Cristiane Grahame that she wanted—whom they immediately sent for. Cristiane came at once, and took Margaret tenderly in her arms, saying “no one should hurt her dear burd, no one;” then carried her down stairs into the kitchen, and so home to her own house. The little daughter of the house ran after them; on the threshold, she was seized with a sudden pain, and falling down cried and screamed most sorely. Her mother went to lift her up crossly, but she called out, “Mother, mother, ding me nocht, for there is ane preyne (pin) raschet throw my fute.” She “grat” all the night, and was very ill; her parents watching by her through the long hours: but when Margaret wanted the mother to let her be cured by Cristiane’s aid, she said sternly, no, “scho wad commit her bairne to God, and nocht mell with the devill or any of his instrumentis.” However, Margaret Wallace healed the little one unbidden; by leaping aver some bits of green cloth scattered in the midst of the floor, and then taking her out of bed and laying her in Cristiane Grahame’s lap—which double sorcery cured her instantly. Cristiane Grahame had been burnt for a witch some time before this trial; and now Margaret Wallace, in this year of our Lord 1622, was doomed to the same fate: bound to a stake, strangled, burnt, her ashes cast to the wind, and all her worldly gear forfeit to king’s majesty, because she was a tender-hearted, loving woman, with a strong will and large mesmeric power, and did her best for the sick folk about her.