In Michael’s time the people of Scotland were much confused as to the day on which Shrovetide was to be kept. One year it was early and another it was late, and they had to send every year to Rome to ascertain the time (_dh’ fhaotainn fios na h-Inid_). It was determined to send Michael Scott to get “word without a second telling” (_fios gun ath-fhios_). Michael called up the devil, converted him into a black ambling horse (_fàlaire dhu_), and rode away on the journey. The devil was reluctant to go on such an expedition, and was tired by the long distance. He asked Michael what the women in Scotland said when they put their children to sleep or ‘raked’ the fire (_smàladh an teine_) for the night. He wanted the other to mention the name of the Deity, when the charm that made himself an unwilling horse would be broken. Michael told him to ride on—“Ride you before you, you worthless wretch (_marcaich thusa, bhiasd, romhad_), and never mind what the women said.” They went at such a height that there was snow on Michael’s hat when he disturbed the Pope in the early morning. In the hurry the Pope came in with a lady’s slipper on his left foot. “You rode high last night, Michael,” said the Pope. Michael’s reply called attention to the Pope’s left foot. “Conceal my secret and I will conceal yours,”[92] said the Pope, and to avoid the chance of being again caught in a similar intrigue he gave Michael “the knowledge of Shrovetide,” viz., that it is always “the first Tuesday of the spring light,” _i.e._, of the new moon in spring. In Skye this adventure is ascribed to ‘Parson Sir Andro of Ruig’ in that island. He is said to have started on his terrible journey from the top of the Storr Rock, a scene the wildness of which is singularly appropriate to the legend. The Storr is a hill upwards of 2000 feet high, and on its eastern side, from which the parson must have set out for Rome, is precipitous, as if the hill were half eaten away, and the weird appearance of the scene is much increased by the isolated and lofty pillars from which the hill derives its name,[93] standing in front. Not unfrequently banks of mist come rolling up against the face of the cliffs, concealing the lower grounds, and giving a person standing at the top of the precipices one of the most magnificent views it is possible to conceive. He seems to look down into bottomless space, and where the mist in its motions becomes thin and the ground appears dark through it, there is the appearance of a profounder depth, a more awful abyss. The scene gives a wildly poetical character to the legend of the redoubtable parson and his unearthly steed. COMING MISFORTUNE.