his subjects, and informed him how he himself lived only on whortleberries, nuts, and apples, he invited him home. The youth was on the point of accepting the invitation and springing across the brook, when he was arrested by the voice of his companion, who thought he had tarried long, and looking round again “the wee brown man was fled.” It was thought that had the young man crossed the water the dwarf would have torn him to pieces. As it was he died within the year, in consequence, it was supposed, of his slighting the dwarf’s admonition, and continuing his sport on the way home.
Killmoulis is a peculiar species of Brownie, who haunts the mill, and resides in the killogee, or space before the fireplace in the kiln. One would suppose that he took his name from the kiln, but Mr. Wilkie considers “kill” to be a corruption of “gill,” and “killmoulis” to mean the miller’s servant. This sprite is a singular creature, for he appears to have no mouth; yet the following rhymes testify to his taste for swine’s-flesh:—
Auld Killmoulis wanting the mow,
Come to me now, come to me now!
Where war ye yestreen when I killed the sow?
Had ye come ye’d hae gotten yer belly fou.
Killmoulis takes the liveliest interest in the miller and his mill. Should any misfortune threaten them he will wail piteously. At the same time he often torments the goodman sorely by throwing “isles” or ashes out when sheelin or shelled oats are spread out to dry; nor will he leave off his mischievous tricks till the miller calls out,
“Auld Killmoulis wanting the mow,
Come to me now,”
on which he appears, puffing and blowing, in the shape of an old man, the mouth wanting, but with an enormous nose.
Killmoulis will never quit the “logie,” his favourite corner, except to thrash the corn in great emergency, or to ride for the howdie, when the miller’s wife needs her services—an errand he will fulfil expeditiously enough, though with some rough usage of the horse.
