In the eventful times of which we write little rest could be granted to the soldier. Thus, we find the regiment, within a month after its arrival at Plymouth, on its way across the Atlantic, as part of the expedition under Major-General the Hon. Sir Edward Pakenham, destined to operate against the city of New Orleans. Rendevouzed at Jamaica, the expedition proceeded thence on the 27th November, and landed at Cat Island, at the mouth of the Mississippi, on the 13th December, 1814. The unfavourable nature of the ground, the immediate presence of an enemy greatly superior in numbers, and having an extended line of formidable entrenchments whither to retreat, rendered the enterprise one of difficulty and danger. Commanded by able officers having every confidence in their soldiers, perhaps overrated as they overtasked their capabilities, the army fearlessly advanced, surmounting all the obstacles which lay in the way ere they confronted the citadel of the American position. Nothing could surpass the heroism of the Commander-in-Chief, who fell whilst leading the troops to the assault, nor the gallantry of the officers supporting him, of whom Major-Generals Gibb and Keane (afterwards Lord Keane) were wounded—the former fatally. Nothing could excel the dauntless bravery with which the troops followed their leaders through the murderous tempest of musketry and artillery, which carried death and destruction into their very midst; yet all was unavailing, save the attack of Colonel Thornton upon the right of the enemy—everywhere else these formidable entrenchments proved impregnable to so small a force, unaided by an adequate artillery. Thus, after a fearful loss of life and limb, Major-General Sir John Lambert felt constrained to abandon the attempt and sound the retreat. Weakened by a loss of upwards of 1500 killed and wounded—nearly a third of which was sustained by the Ninety-third, proof of the valour of the corps in this fiery trial—the troops were re-embarked, and bade adieu to the scene of so terrible a disaster. On their return home in 1815, the Sutherland Highlanders were peacefully employed; for the long period of nearly forty years its history presents a comparatively uninteresting record of military stations occupied from time to time, lightened by such glimpses of character as these:—One inspecting officer reports the Sutherland Highlanders to exhibit a “picture of military discipline and moral rectitude;” another declares them “altogether incomparable;” and the colonists of the Cape of Good Hope lament their loss as “kind friends and honourable soldiers.” Such are the men whose good conduct in quarters and in peace evince a sterling character which, never failing in the day of battle, is capable of sustaining a great renown. Passing down the stream of time, we arrive at the year 1854, and follow the Ninety-third to the Crimea—