In the last forty years of the sixteenth century, we have the astounding aggregate of no less than eight thousand persons who suffered, almost invariably by burning, for witchcraft. For about the first decade, not more, perhaps, than forty were so punished in a year, but towards the close of the period alluded to, the annual death-roll probably reached five hundred. The total number of victims, strange to say, represented even a larger proportion than those of the Holy Office, during a corresponding space of time. That during one period the Kirk should have been more disposed to kindle the pile than was the Inquisition, is, without doubt, a startling fact. For a time, at any rate, the population seemed divided into only two great classes, witches and witchfinders. The dark tales of witchcraft were not even relieved by fairy folk-lore. There was, perhaps, no little truth in what Cleland said in his "Effigies Clericorum," when he attributed the disappearance of Scottish fairies to the Reformation. In writing of Parnassus, he proceeds:-- "There's als much virtue, sense, and pith, In Annan, or the Water of Nith, Which quietly slips by Dumfries, Als any water in all Greece. For there, and several other places, About mill-dams, and green brae faces, Both Elrich elfs and brownies stayed, And green-gown'd fairies daunc'd and played: When old John Knox, and other some, Began to plott the Haggs of Rome; Then suddenly took to their heels, And did no more frequent these fields; But if Rome's pipes perhaps they hear, Sure, for their interest they'll compear Again, and play their old hell's tricks." As far as fairydom survived, however, it was regarded as under the same guilt as witchcraft. The harsh forbidding creed of the Kirk had its influence in every direction; and music, instrumental at any rate, fell under its ban. During the sway of the Covenant, indeed, the Scottish minstrels were popularly supposed to be under the special care and protection of the devil. The Reverend Robert Kirk, author of the "Secret Commonwealth," attributed certain impressions produced by music to diabolical influence. "Irishmen," says he, "our northern Scottish, and our Athole men are so much addicted to, and delighted with harps and musick, as if, like King Saul, they were possessed with a forrein sport; only with this difference, that musick did put Saul's play-fellow asleep, but roused and awaked our men, vanquishing their own spirits at pleasure as if they were impotent of its powers, and unable to command it; for wee have seen some poor beggars of them chattering their teeth for cold, that how soon they saw the fire, and heard the harp, leap thorow the house like goats and satyrs." Without enlarging on the subject, may we not conclude that such an estimate of instrumental music as became common, especially in Covenanting days, had much to do with the prolonged antipathy of the Kirk to its introduction in worship?