"Well, time wore on; a year and a half—Oh, what a happy time! Then a beautiful child saw the light of day, and our joy was trebled. But about three months after this came a bolt from the blue—an order that every man, woman, and child was to clear out of the glen.
"We would have a free passage to America, but the glen was wanted as a sheep-farm.
"What wailing and anguish there was now in every hut and hamlet!
"But the men were furious. They would take no notice of the cowardly edict. They could not, would not, leave their Highlands.
"Another month went past, and then half a dozen men from Portree arrived with summonses and delivered them. These long blue letters were torn from their hands, rent in pieces, and thrown fluttering on the breeze. The men tried to use their sticks. There was a battle, but a brief one. The minions of an unjust law were soundly thrashed, and two were thrown into a pond. They were glad to get away with their lives, I think.
"Police were sent next, and a more terrible fight ensued. Many of our brave glensmen were wounded, but eventually this enemy also had to beat a speedy retreat.
"Nothing more happened for three weeks, and we were beginning to think we should be left in the peaceful possession of our bonnie glen. But one day, much to our surprise, a small steamer cast anchor in the bay, and on her deck were redcoats. Alas! I knew now the grief had come. But still we determined to resist to the bitter end. Bitter it was bound to be, for it was a cold, bleak day in early winter.
"We speedily placed heaps of stones where they would be handiest.
"The fight lasted till nearly darkling. We kept well beyond reach of the fixed bayonets, and battered the soldiers severely with stones. Again and again the order was given to charge. But these fellows might as well have tried to follow Highland deer on foot as lithe and active Skyemen like us.
"At last the order was given to fire, and two of our poor fellows were stretched bleeding on the grass.