At the battle of Maya, which was fought soon after, the Highlanders had to maintain the conflict for ten hours against five times their number. Napier, the historian of the Peninsular war, thus alludes to their conduct and that of their leader on this occasion: “That officer (Cameron) still holding the pass with the left wings of the 71st and 92nd, then brought their right wings and the Portuguese guns into action, and thus maintained the fight; but so dreadful was the slaughter, especially of the 92nd, that it is said the advancing enemy were actually stopped by the heaped mass of dead and dying; and then the left wing of that regiment coming down from the higher ground smote wounded friends and exulting foes alike, as mingled together they stood or crawled before its wasting fire. Never did soldiers fight better—seldom so well. The stern valour of the 92nd would have graced Thermopylæ. They held their ground till their ammunition was almost expended, and some of them began to hurl stones at the enemy, when General Burnes despatched a considerable body of troops to their assistance. Their strength was so reduced that they were forbidden to charge; but seized with a warlike enthusiasm, they rushed upon the enemy and drove them from the ground they had lost. The pipers contributed in no small degree to produce this enthusiasm; they headed the charge, and struck up the favourite war-tune, “The Haughs of Crowdale,” composed centuries ago to commemorate a celebrated battle in which the Highlanders took part. Their warlike music inspired their comrades with a fury which nothing could resist; but the loss was fearful. The strength of the regiment was about 750 men; nearly half that number fell, and nineteen officers were killed or wounded. Well might the poet exclaim, on hearing of such deeds of heroism— “And oh! loved warriors of the minstrel’s land, Yonder your bonnets nod, your tartans wave; The rugged form may mark the mountain band, And harsher features and a mien more grave. But ne’er in battle throbbed a heart so brave, As that which beats beneath the Scottish plaid; And when the pibroch bids the battle rave, And level for the charge your arms are laid, Where lives the desperate foe that for such onset stayed!” These redoubtable musicians exhibited occasionally a sort of grim humour in the tunes which they selected. When the 92nd and 71st surprised General Gérard with three thousand of the finest French troops in Spain, at the village of Aroys des Molinos, and took or destroyed more than two-thirds of them, the first intimation of their presence was given by the pipers playing, “Hey, Johnnie Cope, are you waukin’ yet?” a highly appropriate tune, composed originally on the occasion of the defeat of Sir John Cope by the followers of the Pretender at the battle of Prestonpans. There is an old song sung to the same air, of which we remember only one verse—