CHAPTER II--THE BEGINNING.
I love no warres, I love no jarres, Nor strife's fire.
May discord cease, Let's live in peace: This I desire.
If it must be Warre we must see (So fates conspire), May we not feel The force of steel: This I desire.
T.JACKSON, 1651 {89} Upon Tuesday, November 13th, 1666, Corporal George Deanes and three other soldiers set upon an old man in the clachan of Dalry and demanded the payment of his fines.

On the old man's refusing to pay, they forced a large party of his neighbours to go with them and thresh his corn.

The field was a certain distance out of the clachan, and four persons, disguised as countrymen, who had been out on the moors all night, met this mournful drove of slaves, compelled by the four soldiers to work for the ruin of their friend.

However, chided to the bone by their night on the hills, and worn out by want of food, they proceeded to the village inn to refresh themselves.

Suddenly some people rushed into the room where they were sitting, and told them that the soldiers were about to roast the old man, naked, on his own girdle.