Murdoch here immortalised was credited with the power of destroying the winter supply of beef, even after the slaughter of the animal. “When I was a little lad, my father and my uncle William bought a cow from him in winter. It was customary to buy a fat cow, kill it, and divide it so as to have a cheap and good supply. The beast was killed and hung in the barn. The same day Murdoch passed, and they knew that on returning he would call to see how the animal bought from himself turned out after killing. They were in a fix to prevent his seeing her without offending him, and the plan they took was to close the barn, locking the door and giving the key to some one who, if inquiries were made, would not tell where it was. Murdoch called, asked if the cow was killed, and said he wanted to see her. They then proceeded to the barn, but of course could not get in. An apparent search was then made for the missing key, which naturally they could not find. Murdoch was disappointed, but asked if she had killed well. They said she had, and expressed regret that they could not let him see her. So they prevented him laying his eye upon her after killing; before that, while she was his own, of course his eye would not harm her.” The latter remark is not in accordance with the belief in other places. A native of Bute enables us to give another illustration of care taken to keep an Evil Eye from dead meat. A woman of whom, as our reciter said, there could be no doubt she had a “bad eye,” asked some fishers to take her along the coast in their boat. Not liking to refuse, they agreed. They had a fine catch of salmon with them at the time, which she praised loudly as they lay in the net at her feet. “Well, for many a day after that we got no good from that net. We might every bit as well look to the hills for fish as to it, and were quite sure it was that woman that had taken its luck from it with her ‘bad eye.’ Many a time after that we had to try to keep things out of her sight, and it was not easy; she would be up and out as early as ourselves, no matter how early we would be. I have seen us up at four in the morning, and even at two, trying to get the salmon boxed before she would get her eyes on them.” We must add one other protective formula from the neighbourhood of Ardrishaig. “This,” said the reciter, “is a good protection against injury by an Evil Eye. I used it always with reference to the young chickens, and found it kept them from being hurt by any greedy person.” The words are: “_Beannachd Dhia air do shuil; sop muin mu do chridhe._” (“The blessing of God on your eye; a splash of urine about your heart.”)