O but, says the other lad, the Temple-bar he means by, is at London. Yea, yea, lad. an ye be com'd frae London, ye're little worth. London, said he, is but at home to the place he comes from. A dear man, quoth she, and whar in a'the world comes he frae? All the way frae Italy where the Pope o' Rome dwells, says he. A sweet be wi' us, quoth she, for the fouks there awa' is a' witches and warlocks, deils, brownies, and fairies. Well I wat that's true, said I, and that thou shalt know, thou hard hearted wretch who would have people to starve or provoke them to steal. With that I rose and lifts twa or three long straws, and casting knots on then, into the byre I went, and throws a knotted straw on every cow's stake, saying, Thy days shall not be long. The wife followed wringing her hands, earnestly praying for herself and all that was hers. I then came out at the door, and lifted a stone, running three times round about, and threw it over the house, muttering some words, which I knew not myself, and concluding with these words: 'Thou monsieur Diable, brother to Beelzebub god of Ekron, take this wife's kirn, butter and milk, sap and substance, without and within, so that she may die in misery, as she would have others to live.'
The wife hearing the aforesaid sentence, clapt her hands, and called out another old woman as foolish as herself, who came crying after us to come back. Back we went, where she made us eat heartily of butter and cheese. Then she earnestly pleaded with me to go and lift my cantrips; which I did, upon her promising never to deny a hungry traveller meat nor drink, whether they had money to pay for't or not; and never to serve the poor with the old proverb, 'Go home to your own parish;' but give them less or more as ye see them in need. This she faithfully promised to do while she lived, and with milk
