"Many rumours used to be afloat in my younger days of people being terrified by some unearthly shape or other which was believed to show itself at Craigdhu. Such stories were, however, rather conflicting, some declaring that it was a spectre of human form and proportions, while others held that it was more like a huge quadruped of an unknown species; but I confine my notes to personal testimonies of three individuals whom I knew. The first of these was a hard-working farm servant, who insisted that he had seen the something--whatever it was--not once or twice, but repeatedly. The second testifier was a wood-sawyer, who had occasion to spend a night in the house belonging to the farm. His first consciousness of the ghost's presence was when he was ascending the stair to the sleeping apartment, which a companion and himself were to occupy. This was manifested by the distinct sound of a lady's silk dress passing him and his bed-fellow on their way to the garret which was to be their dormitory. But that, though eerie enough, was nothing to what was to follow. As soon as they had extinguished their candle and crept into bed _something_ leapt on the bed and dealt the unfortunate couple some well directed blows with what seemed like a heavy blunt instrument. The third witness was an ex-magistrate of Whithorn, who told that he was almost run to earth by the goblin. He was just able to evade it by reaching the farm-house door as he was actually being overtaken. Throwing himself against the door, he was admitted by the farmer himself without a moment's delay. The latter at once conjectured the cause of his breathlessness and terror--'Aye! come in, my frien', come in. I ken gey weel what has happened; but ye're safe here, an' as welcome as I can mak' ye, to bide till daylicht.'"(82) The roofless ruin of the little pre-Reformation Church of Kirkmaiden (in Fernes) in Glasserton parish, so beautifully situated on the very verge of Luce Bay, has among other associations a tradition of supernatural intervention and tragedy.