Neither must it be forgotten that the proof led in support of the prosecution was of a kind very unusual in jurisprudence.  The lawyers admitted as evidence what they called damnum minatum, et malum secutum—­some mischief, that is to say, following close upon a threat, or wish of revenge, uttered by the supposed witch, which, though it might be attributed to the most natural course of events, was supposed necessarily to be in consequence of the menaces of the accused.

Sometimes this vague species of evidence was still more loosely adduced, and allegations of danger threatened and mischief ensuing were admitted, though the menaces had not come from the accused party herself.  On 10th June, 1661, as John Stewart, one of a party of stout burghers of Dalkeith appointed to guard an old woman called Christian Wilson from that town to Niddrie, was cleaning his gun, he was slyly questioned by Janet Cocke, another confessing witch, who probably saw his courage was not entirely constant, “What would you think if the devil raise a whirlwind, and take her from you on the road to-morrow?” Sure enough, on their journey to Niddrie the party actually were assailed by a sudden gust of wind (not a very uncommon event in that climate), which scarce permitted the valiant guard to keep their feet, while the miserable prisoner was blown into a pool of water, and with difficulty raised again.  There is some ground to hope that this extraordinary evidence was not admitted upon the trial.

There is a story told of an old wizard, whose real name was Alexander Hunter, though he was more generally known by the nickname of Hatteraick, which it had pleased the devil to confer upon him.  The man had for some time adopted the credit of being a conjurer, and curing the diseases of man and beast by spells and charms.  One summer’s day, on a green hill-side, the devil appeared to him in shape of a grave “Mediciner,” addressing him thus roundly, “Sandie, you have too long followed my trade without acknowledging me for a master.  You must now enlist with me and become my servant, and I will teach you your trade better.”  Hatteraick consented to the proposal, and we shall let the Rev. Mr. George Sinclair tell the rest of the tale.

“After this he grew very famous through the country for his charming and curing of diseases in men and beasts, and turned a vagrant fellow like a jockie,[73] gaining meal, and flesh, and money by his charms, such was the ignorance of many at that time.  Whatever house he came to none durst refuse Hatteraick an alms, rather for his ill than his good.  One day he came to the yait (gate) of Samuelston, when some friends after dinner were going to horse.  A young gentleman, brother to the lady, seeing him, switcht him about the ears, saying—­’You warlock carle, what have you to do here?’ Whereupon the fellow goes away grumbling, and was overheard to say, ‘You shall dear buy this ere it be long.’  This was damnum minatum.  The young gentleman