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There's a knock that canna be mista'en, an' a' heard it last night. A've focht deith for ither fouk mair than forty year, but ma ain time hes come at laist. "A've nae tribble worth mentionin' a bit titch o' bronchitis an' a've hed a graund constitution; but a'm fair worn oot, Paitrick; that's ma complaint, an' its past curin'."
It's just Britain, the land we've a' loved and wanted to see happy and safe safe frae the Hun and frae the famine he tried to bring upon it. Do these radicals, as they call themselves they'd tak' every name they please to themselves! think they love their state better than the boys who focht and deed and won loved their country? Eh, and let's think back a bit, just a wee bit, into history.
"There's something at the turnin', an' it's no fouk; it's a machine o' some kind or ither maybe a bread cart that's focht its wy up." "Na, it's no that; there's twa horses, are afore the ither; if it's no a dogcairt wi' twa men in the front; they 'ill be comin' tae the beerial."
But they focht a' the better for that the graun' human principle was there; they kent that fine, an' that was a' they needit for to ken. Forbye, they foucht when the chief bade them fecht. When he gied the word, hieland foot was never slow and hieland bluid was never laggin'. Man, what a graun' chief Bonyparte wad hae made, gin the M'Phatters had ta'en him up!"
But after every war and any old timer can tell ye I'm tellin' ye the truth the noo there have been crippled and blinded men who have relied upon such promises and seen them forgotten, seen themselves become a burden. No man likes to think he's a burden. It irks him sair. And it will be irksome specially tae laddies like those who have focht in France.
"There's something at the turnin', an' it's no fouk; it's a machine o' some kind or ither maybe a bread cart that's focht its wy up." "Na, it's no that; there's twa horses, are afore the ither; if it's no a dogcairt wi' twa men in the front; they 'ill be comin' tae the beerial."
My boy John, the wean I'd seen grow frae a nursling in his mither's arms, had focht in that battle. He'd been wounded, and come hame tae his mither to be nursed back to health. She'd done that, and she'd blessed him, and kissed him gude bye, and he'd gone oot there again. And that time, he stayed. There's a few words I can see, written on a bit o' yellow paper, each time I close ma een.
"You got back all right, anyhow," said Blackie. "Aloon i' the vast an' silent spaces of the vaulted heavens," said Tam in his sing-song tones which invariably accompanied his narratives, "the Young Avenger of the Cloods, Tam the Scoot, focht his ficht. Attacked by owerwhelmin' foorces, shot at afore an' behint, the noble laddie didna lose his nairve.
"A' gaed up tae the Manse last nicht," concluded Drumsheugh, "and telt the minister hoo the doctor focht aucht oors for Saunders' life, an' won, and ye never saw a man sae carried. He walkit up and doon the room a' the time, and every other meenut he blew his nose like a trumpet. "'I've a cold in my head to-night, Drumsheugh, says he; 'never mind me."
It was the wund o' the Lord's anger an' a' that nicht we focht like men dementit, and the neist that we kenned we were ashore in Loch Uskevagh, an' the cocks were crawin' in Benbecula." "It will have been a merman," Rorie said. "A merman!" screamed my uncle with immeasurable scorn. "Auld wives' clavers! There's nae sic things as mermen." "But what was the creature like?" I asked.
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