In my land there is a field and long ago I heard my father saying that himself and other boys around the place used to kick foot-ball there.
They used to kick football in this field every Sunday evening and sometimes in bright moon light nights. In the western side of this field there is a frightful big glen that anyone could not cross. This glen is called he [?] It is about a hundred feet wide and fifty feet deep. One night as they were playing here the ball went back into this glen. it was kicked over to the field again and they played it away. There was nobody in the glen to kick it over and it was said it was the good people that kicked it back.
Another night there was a fisher man whom my father knew fishing in the river. It was about two or three o'clock in the night and at the bottom of this glen he heard all the bittling. He thought it was some one frightening him and he went back to see who it was but there was no one there. He went on again and he heard it the second