The great mariner, while engaged in his celebrated voyages of discovery, was murdered by South Sea Islanders at Owhyhee on the 14th of Feby., 1779. He had been sent by the British Government to find if the discovery of the North-West passage, which seemed impossible by the Atlantic, were feasible by the Pacific Ocean; for which purpose he had to round the southern part of the entire American Continent. He was on the point of abandoning the project and returning home when he met his terrible death, "leaving a name unsurpassed for gallantry by any sea-faring man of his time." In the month of October Saunders' fleet dropped silently down the river. On one of the ships was the embalmed body of James Wolfe, returning to the land he had served so well, but where alas! he would never hear the acclamations with which his fellow countrymen, from the palace to the cabin, would lay the laurel wreath upon his tomb,--the paths of glory had truly led but to the grave! Saunders on his return was appointed Lieutenant-General of Marine, and on taking his seat as a member of the House of Commons received the thanks of the Speaker. He became Knight Commander of the Bath, and on his death was buried in Westminster Abbey near to the Monument of Wolfe. Of the regiments to whom England owes the Conquest of Canada, the Scotch claim the greatest share of glory. "Hardy sons of mountain and heather, they were in fact the flower of the army, the boldest in attack, the fiercest at close quarters, the last to retreat at command, and always the bravest of the brave in the forefront of England's battles." The kilted "laddies" from beyond the Grampians, in their "_braw_" plumed bonnets, with their war-pipes lilting above the loudest din of war, have met some of the fiercest onslaughts singing and stepping to the blood-stirring strains of "Scots wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled." An eye-witness of their march out of Brussels on that beautiful June morning in 1815, the dawn of Waterloo, says: "One could not but admire their fine appearance, their steady military demeanour, with their pipes playing before them, and the beams of the rising sun shining on their glittering arms." Many of the young officers were in the silk stockings and dancing pumps which they wore the night before to the Duchess of Richmond's ball, when they laughed:-- "On with the dance, let joy be unconfined, No sleep till morn when youth and beauty meet, To chase the glowing hours with flying feet." With swords waving, the pibroch screaming and the "stirring memories of a thousand years," they rushed into the stupendous conflict leading the "_Forty-twa_" into the field, which the setting of the same sun saw drenched through with blood, but marked by deeds which covered with glory many a thatched ingle-nook on highland hills and in lowland valleys.