"Bess o' Borgue" and "Glencairn Kate" were two notorious south-country witches. They are included in the descriptive witch-poem of "Maggie o' the Moss," already referred to. About the middle of the eighteenth century there was a famous witch that lived at Hannayston, in the Kells, who was credited with wonderful powers, and many stories of her exploits are still current. Some say her name was Nicholas Grier, others that it was Girzie M'Clegg, but it matters little which now. Some of Lucky's favourite pastimes were, drowning anyone she had a spite at by sinking a caup in the yill-boat in her kitchen; sucking cows in the shape of a hare; frightening people at night by appearing to them like a little naked boy; walking in the resemblance of a cat on its hind legs; conversing with travellers on the road; and sending young people into declines.(4) The old Church of Dalry has a legend of witch-festival surrounding it, which gives it a distinction something akin to the better-known tradition of Alloway Kirk. The following version is taken from _Harper's Rambles_:-- "Adam Forester, proprietor of Knocksheen, had been detained one evening until near midnight in the public-house at Dalry. On the way home he had to pass the church, and being perhaps like the famous Tam o' Shanter, through indulging in inspiring bold John Barleycorn, ready to defy all dangers in the shape of goblin and spirit, he very soon had his mettle tested. On reaching the church the windows 'seemed in a bleeze,' and from within loud bursts of mirth and revelry reached the ears of the astonished laird. Nothing daunted however, he dismounted, and securing his horse to a tree near the church-yard wall, he peered in at the window, and to his astonishment, amongst those engaged in the 'dance o' witches' were several old women of his acquaintance, amongst whom was the landlady of the public-house where he had spent the greater part of the evening, and which he had just left. Horrified with such desecration of the sacred edifice, and unable longer to restrain his displeasure, Forester shouted, 'Ho! ho! Lucky, ye'll no deny this the morn!' knocking at the same instant against the window frame with his whip. In a moment the lights were extinguished, and the witches with loud yells rushed out of the church after him; but the laird, having gained his horse, went off at a furious gallop for the ford on the Ken, his pursuers following hard upon him, their frantic and hideous shouts striking terror to his heart. As they could not cross the running stream, they flew to the Brig o' Ken, six miles distant, where they crossed and overtook Adam on Waterside Hill, tearing all the hair out of the horse's tail, and Lucky getting her black hand on the horse's hip. She left its impression there for life. The laird, finding he could proceed no further, dismounted and was only saved from being torn to pieces by describing a circle in God's name round himself and horse. This charm proved effectual.