'Ah'll tee on my bonnet An' put on me shoe, An' if thoo's nut off Ah'll seean catch thoo!' A farmer, some years ago, galloped round it on horseback, and Jenny did come out, to the great terror of the farmer, who put spurs to his horse and galloped off as fast as he could, the spirit after him. Just on entering the village, the spirit, for some reason unknown, declined to proceed further, but bit a piece clean out of the horse's flank, and the old mare had a white patch there to her dying day." In the "Folklore Journal" for 1889, Dr. Gregor relates some kelpy legends collected by him in Aberdeenshire. On one occasion a man had to cross the Don by the bridge of Luib, Corgarff, to get to his wife who was then very ill. When he reached the river, he found that the bridge--a wooden one--had been swept away by a flood. He despaired of reaching the other bank, when a tall man suddenly appeared and offered to carry him across. The man was at first doubtful, but ere long accepted the proffered help. When they reached the middle of the river, the kelpy, who had hitherto shown himself so obliging, sought to plunge his burden beneath the water. A struggle ensued. The man finally found a foothold, and, disengaging himself from the kelpy, scrambled in all haste up the bank. His would-be destroyer, disappointed of his victim, hurled a boulder after him. This boulder came to be known as the Kelpy's Stane. Passers-by threw a stone beside it till eventually a heap was formed, locally styled the Kelpy's Cairn. A Braemar kelpy stole a sackful of meal from a mill to give it to a woman for whom he had taken a fancy. As the thief was disappearing, the miller caught sight of him and threw a fairy-whorl at his retreating figure. The whorl broke his leg, and the kelpy fell into the mill-race and was drowned. Such was the fate of the last kelpy seen in Braemar. Sutherland, too, abounded in water-spirits. They used to cross the mouth of the Dornoch Firth in cockle-shells, but, getting tired of this mode of transit, they resolved to build a bridge. It was a magnificent structure, the piers being headed with pure gold. A countryman, happening to pass, saw the bridge, and invoked a blessing on the workmen and their work. Immediately, the workmen vanished, and their work sank beneath the waves. Where it spanned the Firth there is now a sandbar dangerous to mariners. Miss Dempster, who recounts this legend in the "Folklore Journal" for 1888, supplies further information about the superstition of the district. A banshee, adorned with gold ornaments and wearing a silk dress, was seen hurrying down a hill near the river Shin, and finally plunging into one of its deep pools. These banshees were commonly web-footed, and seemed addicted to finery, if we may judge from the instance just given, and from another mentioned by Mr. Campbell in his "Tales of