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year, by his death. Maclean had three responses from a witch before he undertook this journey into Isla; first, desiring him not to land there upon Thursday; the next was, forbidding him to drink of the water of a well beside Gruinart; and thirdly, she told him that one called Maclean should be slain at Gruinart. The first he transgressed unwillingly, being driven into that island by a tempest on a Thursday. The second he transgressed negligently, and drank of that water before he knew the name of the place, and so he died at Gruinart, as was foretold him, but doubtfully, and as commonly all such responses be. These broils and uproars did so move the King against the Macdonalds, that His Majesty afterwards finding the inheritance both of Kintyre and Isla to beat his own disposition, he gave all these lands to the Earl of Argyll and the Campbells; whereupon proceeded the troubles that arose since betwixt the Campbells and the Clan Donald in Kintyre and Isla, after His Majesty's coming to the Crown of England, which I omit to relate; only thus far, that Sir James Macdonald was, by Argyll's means, warded in the Castle of Edinburgh, and was kept there a long time; from whence he escaped by the means and diligence of his cousin, MacRanald, who fled with Sir James into Spain and Flanders, where they were entertained by the Spaniards; from whence they are now (upon the Earl of Argyll's flight thither to the King of Spain) both recalled home by His Majesty, the year of God, 1620, and are now in England, at this time, with the King, who hath given Sir James a yearly pension of 1000 merks sterling, and a yearly pension of 200 merks sterling to MacRanald, together with a pardon for all their bye-gone offences.



Donald Gorm Macdonald of the Sleat had married Sir Rory Macleod of the Harris's sister, and for some displeasure or jealousy conceived against her, he did repudiate her; whereupon Sir Rory Macleod sent a message to Donald Gorm, desiring him to take home his sister. Donald Gorm not only refused to obey his request, but also intended divorcement against her; which when

he had obtained, he married Kenneth Mackenzie, Lord of Kintail's sister. Sir Rory Macleod took this disgrace (as he thought it) so highly, that, assembling his countrymen and followers without delay, he invaded, with fire and sword, a part of Donald Gorm's lands in the Isle of Skye, which lands Sir Rory claimed to appertain to himself. Donald Gorm, impatient of this injury, convened his forces, and went into the Harris, which he wasted and spoiled, carried away their store and bestial, and killed some of the inhabitants. This again did so stir up Sir Rory Macleod and his kin, the Siol Tormoit, that they took a journey into the Isle of Uist (which appertaineth to Donald Gorm), and landing there, Sir Rory sent his cousin, Donald Glas Macleod, with some 40 men, to spoil the island, and to take a prey of goods out of the precinct of Kiltrynaid, where the people had put all their goods to be preserved as in a sanctuary, being a church. John MacianMacjames (a kinsman of Donald Gorm's) being desired by him to stay in the island, accompanied with 20 others, rencountered with Donald Glas Macleod. This small company of the Clan Donald behaved themselves so valiantly, that, after a sharp skirmish, they killed Donald Glas Macleod, with the most part of his company, and so rescued the goods. Sir Rory, seeing the bad success of his kinsmen, retired home for that time.

Thus both parties were bent headlong against others with a spirit full of revenge and fury, and so continued mutually infesting one another with spoils and cruel slaughters, to the utter ruin and desolation of both their countries, until the inhabitants were forced to eat horses, dogs, cats, and other filthy beasts. In end, Donald Gorm assembled his whole forces the year of God, 1601, to try the event of battle, and came to invade Sir Rory's lands, thinking thereby to draw his enemies to fight. Sir Rory Macleod was then in Argyle, craving aid and advice from the Earl of Argyll against the Clan Donald. Alexander Macleod (Sir Rory's brother) resolves to fight with Donald Gorm, though his brother was absent; so, assembling all the inhabitants of his brother's lands, with the whole race of the Siol Tormoit, and some of the Siol Torquil, out of the Lewis, he encamped beside a hill called Ben-a-Chuilinn, in the Isle of Skye, with a resolution to fight against Donald Gorm and the Clan Donald the next morning, which were no sooner

come but there ensued a cruel and terrible skirmish, which lasted the most part of the day, both contending for the victory with great obstinacy. The Clan Donald, in the end, overthrew their enemies, hurt Alexander Macleod, and took him prisoner, with Neil MacAlister Roy, and 30 others of the chiefest men among the Siol Tormoit, killed two near kinsmen of Sir Rory Macleod's, John MacTormoit and Tormot MacTormoit, with many others. After this skirmish there followed a reconciliation betwixt them, by the mediation of old Angus Macdonald of Kintyre, the Laird of Coll, and others. Then Donald Gorm delivered unto Sir Rory Macleod all the prisoners taken at Ben-a-Chuilinn together with his brother, Alexander Macleod; since which time they have continued in peace and quietness.

A. M. (To be continued.)




THE WIDOW'S CURSE. GLENFALCON is one of the most charming places in the Highlands. The beautiful bay which bears its name is in the form of a horse shoe, around which the little village is built. On three sides, the bay is surrounded by hills and walls of rock, sloping towards the sea. Outside the bay, to the east, lies a picturesque loch-a long, narrow inlet of the sea, with two pretty islands at its mouth. To the north, is a narrow stretch of fertile land, while the Isle of Skye lies to the west, thus forming a great basin of water sheltered on every side. In the centre of this basin lies a beautiful group of islands, making as fair a scene as the eye could wish to rest upon. On the western side of the bay is a fine glen, divided into two parts by the action of a mountain torrent that, by long ages of hard work, has made a deep bed for itself in the solid rock through which it tumbles noisily till it reaches the bay. In this glen the mournful spectacle of seven or eight ruined cottages may still be seen. These humble dwellings were desolated, and their inhabitants turned adrift to find other homes, or starve, by the despotic will of one man.

Our story opens on a beautiful evening in the middle of August, 184. The sun is just disappearing over the cliffs, and his parting rays throw a red glow over the sails of the fishing boats in the bay. A few old women, too feeble to do harder work, sit at their doors spinning or knitting. Among them is a widow, named Cameron, and her daughter, Jessie, a delicate child of twelve years, who is employed in reading aloud. Mrs. Cameron's husband was drowned at the herring fishing two years before, and the widow and her child had been left totally unprovided for. The men of the West are under the necessity of risking

their lives at the fishing, as, in consequence of the unjust laws, they cannot get a living from the soil.

The neighbours were willing to assist the poor widow to the full extent of their power; but as one cannot get blood from a stone, neither can money be got from people who are drained of their last farthing by the exactions of rack-renting landlords. The kindly people did what they could to help the widow and the fatherless child, by tilling her little croft for her. Thus, with a struggle, Mrs. Cameron managed to live, and keep Jessie at school. The poor child had always been delicate; the cold breath of winter in that Northern isle dealt hardly with her. During the two previous winters she had suffered much, and she was yet very weak and ailing, sorely needing that good living and medical advice which her mother's poverty prevented her having. She was like a summer flower that could only live in the bright sunshine. The widow dreaded the approach of winter, on account of the suffering it caused to her only child, whom she loved more than her own life.

Owing to an exceptionally bad season, the crofters had been unable to pay their rents at the last term. The proprietor of the estate was a hard, stern man. No excuses would be accepted by him for non-payment of rent. When informed that his tenants were unable to pay, and craved a little indulgence until the next summer, he gave orders to his factor that, unless he were paid, not only the sum due at Martinmas, but also the arrears, the tenants, one and all, should be evicted. These harsh instructions were duly made known to the people; but what could they do? They had no money, and they had no place to go to. The next year's rent was due on November 11th, so, after consultation together, they again drew up an urgent appeal for indulgence till the summer. The only reply vouchsafed was a repetition of the former threat. The people were in despair, but were powerless to help themselves; their only hope was that, at the last moment, the landlord might relent. In this miserable state of uncertainty the dreaded uth of November came and passed, without any further intercourse between the landlord and his tenants.

On the morning of the 23rd November, the head factor of the estate, the under factor, a sheriff-officer, and a party of policemen

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