The Death "Bree"

There was once a woman, who lived in the Camp-del-more of Strathavon,
whose cattle were seized with a murrain, or some such fell disease, which
ravaged the neighbourhood at the time, carrying off great numbers of them
daily. All the forlorn fires and hallowed waters failed of their
customary effects; and she was at length told by the wise people, whom
she consulted on the occasion, that it was evidently the effect of some
infernal agency, the power of which could not be destroyed by any other
means than the never-failing specific--the juice of a dead head from the
churchyard,--a nostrum certainly very difficult to be procured,
considering that the head must needs be abstracted from the grave at the
hour of midnight. Being, however, a woman of a stout heart and strong
faith, native feelings of delicacy towards the sanctuary of the dead had
more weight than had fear in restraining her for some time from resorting
to this desperate remedy. At length, seeing that her stock would soon be
annihilated by the destructive career of the disease, the wife of Camp-
del-more resolved to put the experiment in practice, whatever the result
might be. Accordingly, having with considerable difficulty engaged a
neighbouring woman as her companion in this hazardous expedition, they
set out a little before midnight for the parish churchyard, distant about
a mile and a half from her residence, to execute her determination. On
arriving at the churchyard her companion, whose courage was not so
notable, appalled by the gloomy prospect before her, refused to enter
among the habitations of the dead. She, however, agreed to remain at the
gate till her friend's business was accomplished. This circumstance,
however, did not stagger the wife's resolution. She, with the greatest
coolness and intrepidity, proceeded towards what she supposed an old
grave, took down her spade, and commenced her operations. After a good
deal of toil she arrived at the object of her labour. Raising the first
head, or rather skull, that came in her way, she was about to make it her
own property, when a hollow, wild, sepulchral voice exclaimed, "That is
my head; let it alone!" Not wishing to dispute the claimant's title to
this head, and supposing she could be otherwise provided, she very good-
naturedly returned it and took up another. "That is my father's head,"
bellowed the same voice. Wishing, if possible, to avoid disputes, the
wife of Camp-del-more took up another head, when the same voice instantly
started a claim to it as his grandfather's head. "Well," replied the
wife, nettled at her disappointments, "although it were your
grandmother's head, you shan't get it till I am done with it." "What do
you say, you limmer?"