My grandfather, William Wilson, was born in the farmhouse of Drumbrae,
on the estate of Airthrey, at no great distance from the field of
Sherrifmuir. At the rebellion of 1715, he was a lad of fifteen years
of age, and learning that the rebels under the Earl of Mar had met
with the royal forces under the Duke of Argyle in the neighbourhood,
on the morning of Sunday the 12th November, while it was still dusk,
he went to the top of a neighbouring hill named Glentye, from which
the whole of the moor was discernible, and on which a number of
country people were stationed, attracted to the spot, like himself, by
curiosity. Being at no great distance from both armies, he could see
them distinctly. The Highlanders, who observed no regular order, he
compared to a large, dark, formless cloud, forming a striking contrast
to the regular lines and disciplined appearance of the royal army.
After observing them for some space of time, an orderly dragoon, sent
by the Duke of Argyle, rode up to the spot where the spectators stood,
warning them to remove from a position in which they were in as great
danger as the combatants themselves. My grandfather accordingly
returned home, listening with awe to the sharp report of musketry,
intermixed with the booming of cannon, which now informed him that the
battle had commenced. He had not been long in the house when a
dismounted dragoon made his appearance, requesting to have his left
wrist bandaged, so as to stop the blood. The hand had been cut off,
and his horse killed under him, and he was on his way to Stirling to
seek surgical aid. While his wishes were being complied with, he
occupied himself in taking some refreshment, till one of the
farm-servants came in and warned him that four armed Highlanders were
coming down the hill in the direction of the house. The soldier, who
had no doubt been taught at the Marlborough school, and served perhaps
at Ramillies and Blenheim, immediately went out to the front of the
house, which concealed him from his enemies. Presently, he heard by
the footsteps that one was near, when he instantly presented himself
at the gable, and shot the foremost Highlander with his carbine; then,
seeing that the others came on in Indian file, with short distances
between, he advanced to meet them, dropped the second with a bullet
from his pistol, and cut down the third with his sword. The fourth,
seeing the fate of his comrades, took to flight. After this wholesale
execution, the dragoon, with perfect coolness, returned to the house,
finished his repast, tranquilly said his thanks and adieus, and went
off in the direction of Stirling. The next morning the country people
were summoned to bury the dead. The ground was thickly covered with
cranreuch, and life still remained in numbers of both armies, who
begged earnestly for water. But what struck my grandfather
particularly was, that the heads and bodies of a great many of the
slain royalists were horribly mutilated by the claymores of the
Highlanders; while on those of the Highlanders themselves nothing was
observed but the wound which had caused their death.--_Communicated by
Mr Alexander Wilson, shoemaker, Stirling._