and terrified burden in an old castle in Annandale, called the Tower of Graham. The judge's horse being found, it was concluded he had thrown his rider into the sea; his friends went into mourning, and a successor was appointed to his office. Meanwhile the disconsolate president had a sad time of it in the vault of the castle. His food was handed to him through an aperture in the wall, and never hearing the sound of human voice, save when a shepherd called his dog, by the name of _Batty_, and when a female domestic called upon _Maudge_, the cat. These, he concluded, were invocations of spirits, for he held himself to be in the dungeon of a sorcerer. The law suit having been decided in favour of Lord Traquair, Christie's Will was directed to set the president at liberty, three months having elapsed since he was so mysteriously spirited away from the sands at Leith. Without speaking a single word, Will entered the vault in the dead of night, again muffled up in the president's cloak, set him on a horse, and rode off with him to the place where he had found him. The joy of his friends, and the less agreeable surprise of his successor, may be more easily imagined than described, when the judge appeared in court to reclaim his office and honours. All embraced his own persuasion that he had been spirited away by witchcraft; nor could he himself be convinced to the contrary, until, many years afterwards, happening to travel in Annandale, his ears were saluted once more with the sounds of _Maudge_ and _Batty_--the only notes which had reached him during his long confinement. This led to the discovery of the whole story, but in those disorderly times it was only laughed at as a fair _ruse de guerre_.[105] The victim of this extraordinary stratagem was Sir Alexander Gibson, better known as Lord Durie. He became a Lord of Session in 1621, and died in 1646, so that the incident here related must have taken place betwixt these periods. The version of this incident, given in the well, known ballad "Christie's Will," if not so romantic as the foregoing, is certainly more amusing. The balladist represents Lord Traquair as "sitting mournfullie," afraid lest the vote of the Court of Session would make him bare at once of land and living-- "But if auld Durie to heaven were flown, Or if auld Durie to hell were gane, Or ... if he could be but ten days stoun ... My bonnie braid lands would still be my ain. At this juncture Christie's Will offers his services-- "O, mony a time, my Lord," he said, "I've stown the horse frae the sleeping loun; But for you I'll steal a beast as braid, For I'll steal Lord Durie frae Edinburgh toun." "O, mony a time, my Lord," he said, "I've stown a kiss frae a sleeping wench; But for you I'll do as kittle a deed, For I'll steal an auld lurdane off the bench."