A part of the parish of the Ross of Mull is known ecclesiastically as Kilviceuen (_Cill-mhic-Eòghain_, the burying-place of the son of Hugh). Its ancient church was of unhewn stone, and its last minister, previous to its being united to Kilfinichen, was named Kennedy, a native of Cantyre, an Episcopalian, in the reign of Charles II. Tradition records that he came to his death in the following manner. His parishioners, about the end of spring, were taking a new millstone from _Port Bheathain_ on Squrraside to the mill, by means of a pole run through its eye. The parson threw off his cassock, and assisted them. The cassock was left where it was thrown off. In the evening his wife sent a servant-maid for it. The maid found, lying on the cassock, a large black dog, which would not allow her to touch the garment. She came home without it, and refused to return. The wife herself and another servant then went, were bitten by the dog, and ultimately twelve persons, including the minister, died of hydrophobia. So shocking an event could not take place without superstition busying itself about it. On Beltane night shortly before the event, the minister’s servant-man had gone early to bed, while it was yet day. There was “a large blazing fire of green oak” (_beòlach mhòr dhearg de glas darach_) on the floor of the room, and he closed and locked the door before going to bed. Through the night he heard a noise as of some one feeling for the lock and trying to open the door. He remained quiet, thinking the noise was made by young men, who came courting and had mistaken the door. Soon, however, the door opened, and a person whom he did not recognize entered. The stranger, without saying a word, went and stood at the fire. When he turned his back the servant observed that his feet were horse’s feet (_spògun eich_). In a short time the apparition went away, locking the door after it. The man rose and went to an old man in great estimation for his piety, who lived alone at _Creag nan Con_ (the Dog Rock). The old man’s hut was a poor one, its door being made of wicker work and of the form called _sgiathalan_. No remonstrances could induce him to stay another night in the minister’s house, and it was arranged that he should sleep at the hut, and in the day time go to his work at the manse. He told the sight he had seen, and the good man inferred from the time of night at which the devil had been seen that evil was near the house. It was shortly after this that the dog went mad, and the frightened servant was the only one of the minister’s household that escaped. THE GAÏCK CATASTROPHE (_Mort Ghàthaig_).