The maiden of Drumdurno was the belle of five parishes, and as good as beautiful. She was young and light-hearted, and suitors came round her in plenty. One was fortunate in gaining her hand, and was received as her acknowledged lover. Her unsuccessful wooers retired disappointed, but all, with one exception, wishing long life and happiness to the "Maiden of Drumdurno," in the new relationship on which she was about to enter. But in that heart there brooded thoughts of vengeance. A rejected suitor, wandering, one evening in the dark woods of Pittrodrie, thinking bitterly of his successful rival, exclaimed aloud -- "Oh that my eternal destruction could plague their earthly peace, how soon and sure the bargain would be mine!"

Scarcely had he uttered the rash words than a voice replied - "Capital wish! I'll do the thing for you on your own terms!" Thus a compact, ruinous to the luckless lover of Drumdurno, and entailing "perpetual vassalage on the heedless avenger," was entered into that night in the lone Pittrodie woods.

On the day before the wedding the maiden was busy baking cakes for the bridal feast. Her heart was light with joyful anticipations, and as she baked she gaily lilted one of the love songs of her native land.
"It sets ye well to bake, lass, gin ye had ony mair speed at it." The bantering remark was uttered by a handsome rollicking stranger, who had been lounging about for some time, pretending to be in search of work.
"I kenna whether it sets me weel or no," replied the maid; "but I think nane could grudge wi' my speed."
After some further baner, the stranger undertook to lay a "causey" to the top of the neighbouring mountain before she had finished her firlot, on condition that, if successful, her hand and heart should be his reward.

She thoughtlessly agreed to the proposal, deeming it a piece of idle fun. The stranger went on his way, and the maiden continued her task. The gloaming drew on apace, and the firlot of meal was nearly ended. The stranger and his wager were forgotten. The bride's thoughts were all of her bridegroom, and she longed for his presence, for he had promised to be with her "twixt the gloamin' and the mirk."

The night came down gloomy and wet. "It's nae that, nor mony sic like, 'ill gar him bide frae me, but I'm wae to see him weet," said the maiden, as she looked out to see if her lover was coming to keep his tryst; and as she spoke she glanced at the cloud gathering on the hill, when, oh horror! she saw a "well-laid causey" up the slopes of Bennachie. At the same time she beheld the stranger, who, she now discovered, was no other than the Prince of Darkness, quickly and noiselessly coming to claim his reward.

"Fast she flies, as fast pursued,
Straining for Pittrodrie wood;
'Jamie!' shrieks the frantic maiden,
As he wildly scours the hill."

But alas! vain was all human aid. The unuttered prayer of her heart, however, was granted, for just as the "foul fiend" was about to clasp her in his arms, she was turned into a block of lifeless granite, and there she stands to this day.

"Lone adn last of all the clachan,
With her bake-brod and bread-spade,
Aye she bids the maids of Garioch
Guard the vows that love has made.
Love is holy, love is solemn;
Think of this mysterious column!"

The "causey" is said to be still extant, although overgrown with rank heather; and the neighbourhood bears the reputation of being haunted.

"And quick the pace, and quick the pulse,
Wha wanders there alane,
Atween Pittodrie's haunted wood
An' the dowie Mayden Stane."

On two hills in the Highlands of Aberdeenshire the Banshee had to be propitiated by the traveller over the hills. This was done by placing near a well on each hill a barley-meal cake marked on one side by a round figure O. If the cake was not left death or some dire calamity befell the traveller. On one occasion a woman had to cross one of the hills. She neglected to leave the customary offering. She paid the penalty. She died at a cairn not far from the well. The cairn bears the name of Cairn Alshish, i.e. Elspet's Cairn.
J. Farquharston, Corgarff.

THE GULE.—Some years ago there was a discussion in a provincial paper in the north of Scotland upon the origin and meaning of the following popular rhyme:—

"The gule of the Garioch,
And the Bowman of Mar,—
They met on Bennachie;
The gule wan the war."

[..] The gule is a weed (wild mustard) too well known in many parts of the country, although, perhaps, it is more generally known by other names. It is also pronounced gwele, and is derived from the same root as gold, gild, gelt, i.e. from the root of yellow, and signifies the yellow plant—a name to which it is well entitled, for it too often covers the green corn-field with a blaze of gold. Another rhyme of the " north countrie " also mentions it, characterizing it as one of the pests of an agricultural country:—

"The gule, the Gordon, and the hoodie-craw
Are the three worst enemies Moray ever saw."

Bowman is an old Scotch word for farmer, from boo, boll, or bow, a farm-house (originally of a dairy or pasture farm), derived probably from Gael. 'bo' - cows, cattle. This root occurs very frequently in place-names in the north, as in Eastern and Western Bo, Lingambo, Delnabo, Lochnabo.[..]

Mar and the Garioch (pronounced Gary) are two districts of Aberdeenshire, separated from each other in part by the hill range of Bennachie, with its lofty and picturesque pinnacles of rock. I would, therefore, interpret the rhyme as follows:— There was a time when the gule was prevalent in the Garioch, but had not yet spread into Mar. The agricultural mind of the latter district was alive to the fact and the danger, and used every means to prevent its encroaching. The representative bowman, armed, with full powers, stood, as it were, on Bennachie, on the march of his own territory, to meet and drive back the insidious attacks of the enemy, but in vain,—the gule won the war.
X. X.

It is said that long " before King Robert rang," two giants inhabited these mountains, and are supposed to be the respective heroes of the two ballads [" John O'Benachie ;" and another, " John O'Rhynie, or Jock O'Noth]

These two sons of Anak appear to have lived on pretty friendly terms, and to have enjoyed a social crack together, each at his own residence, although distant some ten or twelve miles. These worthies had another amusement, that of throwing stones at each other; not small pebbles you may believe, but large boulders. On one occasion, however, there appears to have been a coolness between them; for one morning, as he of Noth was returning from a foraging excursion in the district of Buchan, his friend of Benachie, not relishing what he considered an intrusion on his legitimate beat, took up a large stone and threw at him as he was passing.

Noth, on hearing it rebounding, coolly turned round; and putting himself in a posture of defence, received the ponderous mass on the sole of his foot: and I believe that the stone, with a deeply indented foot-mark on it, is, like the bricks in Jack Cade's chimney, " alive at this day to testify."