We know that a considerable mind has given forth his decision that if he had the making of a people’s songs, he cared not who made their laws; and the case of this Highlander, brought back to a sense of duty by one of the songs of his infancy, proves that in certain natures an appeal to the feelings is far more powerful than any appeal to the intellect. Nor has “Lochaber no more” lost its magic power over the Highland heart. We have seen many proofs of the contrary, one of which may be given. There is—or at least there was recently—in the Scots Fusilier Guards a soldier of the name of Roderick Ross, a native of Inverness-shire. Roderick had the build of a giant, but the heart of a child; he stood six feet four inches in his stockings, but was as soft and tender-hearted as a young maiden. He was respected as a brave soldier who had done his duty well all through the Crimea, but his friends the pipers of the regiment could not always resist the temptation to amuse themselves by reviving, or rather eliciting, his ardent love of country. The bagpipes begin to utter the wailing notes of “Lochaber no more,” Roderick’s huge frame is agitated like a mountain ash in a storm; tears spring to his eyes, and, unable to control his emotion, he rushes from the room exclaiming, “I canna stand ‘Lochaber no more;’ it aye gars (makes) me think o’ deserting.” To get back to Macleod’s Highlanders at Buenos Ayres. While a few went over to the Spaniards, the regiment as a whole remained faithful to their colours, and their fidelity called forth the warm approval of the authorities. On their return home they were stationed at Cork, where General Floyd, a veteran officer who had often witnessed their gallantry in India, presented them with new colours, and referred in his address to the temptations they had overcome. “You now stand on this parade,” he said, “in defiance of the allurements held out to base desertion. You are endeared to the army and to your country. You insure the esteem of all true soldiers and good men.” The 42nd Highlanders were still more distinguished for their attachment to their colours. Many of the privates were gentlemen of birth and education, who preferred the profession of arms to every other, and were possessed of as fine a sense of honour as the officers under whom they served. In the war of American Independence they were brought frequently into contact with the insurgents, and exposed to those temptations to desert which many of our soldiers formerly belonging to regiments now stationed in Canada have not been able to resist. The 42nd passed through five campaigns with their honour pure and unsullied; they had to endure many privations; their ranks were thinned by the bullets of the enemy; they had no prospect of promotion in the British service; they might have risen to the highest rank in that of the insurgents. And yet not one of their number deserted; the regiment