Weel, as he came ower the wast end o' the Black Hill,
ae day, he saw first twa, an' syne fower, an' syne seeven corbie craws
fleein' round an' round abune the auld kirkyaird. They flew laigh and
heavy, an' squawked to ither as they gaed; and it was clear to Mr.
Soulis that something had put them frae their ordinar. He wasna easy
fleyed, an' gaed straucht up to the wa's; and what suld he find there
but a man, or the appearance of a man, sittin' in the inside upon a
grave. He was of a great stature, an' black as hell, and his een were
singular to see. Mr. Soulis had heard tell o' black men, mony's the
time; but there was something unco abut this black man that daunted him.
Het as he was, he took a kind o' cauld grue in the marrow o' his banes;
but up he spak' for a' that; an' says he, "My friend, are you a stranger
in this place?" The black man answered never a word; he got upon his
feet, an' begude to hirsel to the wa' on the far side; but he aye lookit
at the minister; an' the minister stood an' lookit back; till a' in a
meenute the black man was ower the wa' an' rinnin' for the bield o' the
trees. Mr. Soulis, he hardly kenned why, ran after him; but he was sair
forjaskit wi' his walk an' the het, unhalesome weather; and rin as he
likit, he got nae mair than a glisk o' the black man amang the birks,
till he won doun to the foot o' the hillside, an' there he saw him ance
mair, gaun, hap, step, an' lowp, ower Dule Water to the manse.
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