The Polmaily Hauntings.
(As told to me in June, 1939 by Mr Alexander Gunn, Shepherd, Balchrick, Sutherland. He died at Kinlochbervie in December, 1944.)
Towards the end of December, some 55 years ago, my services were engaged as shepherd by Mr Donald Grant of Polmaily (Fair Pool) in Glenurquhart, Inverness-shire. On my arrival at Polmaily, I reported forthwith to Mr Grant in the harness-room of the stables. He asked me among other questions where I would like to sleep at nights. I said to him, “There is a nice-looking house opposite where I would like to live in order to be near at hand for my work.” But the master said “No.” On my enquiring why, he confessed to me that it was haunted; but I scoffed at the idea. So a room was duly prepared for me, and everything was done in order to make me happy and comfortable.
The first night I slept like a log. Next morning I met Mr Grant in the kitchen. He said to me, “You are a brave man Sandy; I am glad to see you alive”. I replied, “Why not?” to which he answered, “I will give you a stiff whisky, because you were brave enough to sleep in that house last night. To tell the truth, no one else will sleep there.” After swallowing the dram I said to him, “If you are to be so kind to give me such a good mouthful each morning, I will gladly sleep in that house as long as you wish.”
The second night I slept in the house more peacefully than ever, and received the glass of whisky in the morning; but during the third night something happened. Something which caused me to shudder! About midnight, I was suddenly aroused from my slumbers by a fearful noise as if all the windows and doors were being smashed, and the whole building vibrated as if under a violent storm. I was terrified out of my wits! The rocking and crashing sounds continued, and overhead was a noise like a horse trampling and wallowing in the room above. I lit a candle by my bedside and as I sensed that some evil thing was working in the house, I clutched hold of my Bible for protection and drew the bedclothes over my head.
As accurately as I could judge it, the storm raged for five or six minutes, during which time everything was loose in the building seemed to bang together again and again. I was so terrified that I could not move out of my bed. The whole foundation rocked and swayed. Some evil spirit was certainly at work in the old house; but I actually saw nothing.
Next morning, after receiving my “usual” from the Laird, I met the local gardener who said he had once spent the night in that place; but never again, for it was “drooch” (evil).
During my employment with Mr Grant in Glenurquhart, I braved the situation in that house in the lonely glen for six weeks with my Bible each night under my pillow. Quite frankly I stayed in the old house for the sake of the dram and on each successive third night, these hideous nocturnal disturbances occurred about midnight; but I can give no explanation why they occurred.
North Star and Farmers’ Chronicle, 2nd January 1954.
This is written rather like a story, but perhaps it’s based on a true anecdote?