At Auldearn, in Nairnshire, the notable witch-case of Isobel Gowdie came before a tribunal composed of the sheriff of the county, the parish minister, seven country gentlemen, and two of the town’s men.[203] She was a married woman; her age does not appear, but, fifteen years before, she had given herself over to the devil, and been baptised by him in the parish church. She was now extremely penitent, and made an unusually ample confession, taking on herself the guilt of every known form of witchcraft. She belonged to a witch-_covin_ or company, consisting, as was customary, of thirteen females like herself, who had frequent meetings with the Evil One, to whom they formed a kind of seraglio. Each had a nickname--as _Pickle nearest the Wind_, _Over the Dike with it_, _Able and Stout_, &c., and had a spirit to attend her, all of which had names also--as the _Red Riever_, the _Roaring Lion_, and so forth. The devil himself she described as ‘a very mickle, black, rough man.’ Meeting at night, they would proceed to a house, and sit down to meat, the _Maiden of the Covin_ always being placed close beside the devil and above the rest, as he had a preference for young women. One would say a grace, as follows: ‘We eat this meat in the devil’s name, With sorrow and _sich_ [sighs] and mickle shame; We shall destroy house and hald, Both sheep and nolt intill the fauld: Little good shall come to the fore Of all the rest of the little store.’ And when supper was done, the company looked steadily at their grizly president, and bowing to him, said: ‘We thank thee, our Lord, for this.’ [Sidenote: 1662.] Occasionally he was very cruel to them. ‘Sometimes, among ourselves,’ says Isobel, ‘we would be calling him _Black John_, or the like, and he would ken it, and hear us weel eneuch, and he even then come to us and say: “I ken weel eneuch what ye are saying of me!” And then he would beat and buffet us very sore. We would be beaten if we were absent any time, or neglect anything that would be appointed to be done. Alexander Elder in Earl-seat would be beaten very often. He is but soft, and could never defend himself in the least, but would greet and cry when he would be scourging him. But Margaret Wilson would defend herself finely, and cast up her hands to keep the strokes off her; and Bessie Wilson would speak crusty, and be belling again to him stoutly. He would be beating us all up and down with cords and other sharp scourges, like naked ghaists, and we would still be crying: “Pity, pity, mercy, mercy, our Lord!” But he would have neither pity nor mercy. When angry at us, he would girn at us like a dog, as if he would swallow us up. Sometimes he would be like a stirk, a bull, a deer, a rae,’ &c.