Once in every seven years They pay the teind to hell, And I’m so fair and fu’ o’ flesh, I fear ’twill be mysel’. In Menteith the “Men of Peace” seem to have been particularly active. One of Dr. Graham’s predecessors as minister of Aberfoyle, the Rev. Robert Kirke, not only wrote a book testifying his belief in them so late as the Reformation period, but was understood to have fallen under their power. His tombstone may be seen by the church, but the story went that he lived on in fairyland after an ineffectual appearance to a kinsman, who neglected to follow his instructions for disenchanting him. When the fairies could deal so masterfully with the very minister, it may be supposed what their power was over thoughtless young folk, now and then drawn into unhallowed love affairs with this uncanny race. A rash mortal who sought their acquaintance had only on Hallow Eve to walk nine times _widershins_ round one of the conical green hillocks so common in this district; then a door would open for the adventurer, henceforth lost to parents, harsh master, or cruel sweetheart. Dr. Graham relates one legend that had a homelier end. A young man roaming one day through the forest observed a number of persons all dressed in green, issuing from one of those round eminences which are commonly accounted fairy hills. Each of them in succession called upon a person by name _to fetch his horse_. A caparisoned steed instantly appeared; they all mounted and sallied forth into the regions of air. The young man, like Ali Baba in the _Arabian Nights_, ventured to pronounce the same name, and called for his horse. The steed immediately appeared; he mounted, and was soon joined to the fairy choir. He remained with them for a year, going about with them to fairs and weddings, and feasting, though unseen by mortal eyes, on the victuals that were exhibited on those occasions. They had one day gone to a wedding where the cheer was abundant. During the feast, the bridegroom _sneezed_. The young man, according to the usual custom, said “God bless you!” The fairies were offended at the pronunciation of the sacred name, and assured him that if he dared to repeat it, he would be punished. The bridegroom sneezed a second time. He repeated his blessing; they threatened more tremendous vengeance. He sneezed a third time; he blessed him as before. The fairies were enraged; they tumbled him from a precipice; but he found himself unhurt, and was restored to the society of mortals. Green was the favourite colour of the fairies, understood to be jealous of its being worn by men. In some parts this colour was held unlucky, while its use in so many tartans may have led the wearers “to mourn fifteen renewed in forty-five.” Who may dare on wold to wear The fairies’ fatal green?