Russians, conceiving themselves secure behind the battlements of Sebastopol, they still held out. Strengthened in the idea of impregnability, from the fact that this vast citadel of Southern Russia had already withstood six successive bombardments, defied the combined efforts of the Allies by sea and land, and yet no sensible impression had been made, or aught of decided success attained by the besiegers, they hoped that what their valour could not achieve in the battle-field, the snows of winter or the stroke of the pestilence would effect—the destruction of our armies, and their consequent deliverance. The successive fall of the Mamelon, the Malakoff, and the Redan, dispelled this illusion, and prudence, rightly esteemed the better part of valour, induced a timely evacuation ere our Highland Brigade returned to the assault. Sebastopol no longer defensible, the enemy sued for peace, which was granted, and this stronghold of tyranny, dismantled and abandoned, was assumed to be converted into a haven for fishermen and traders, rather than the mighty arsenal, whence had so long issued the formidable fleets which had inspired terror among weaker and neighbouring states—at least so the treaty required. Meanwhile our gallant Guards, returning to England, were welcomed by a grateful country. [Illustration: MONUMENT TO THE GUARDS, LONDON.] It is only now, when the audacious impudence of “Brother Jonathan” had dared to insult our time-honoured flag— “Which braved a thousand years the battle and the breeze,” and thought to bully us out of the glorious charter which has conferred upon us the “dominion of the seas,” that our Scots Fusilier Guards were once more called to prepare for action; and, having gone across the Atlantic as the van of our army, anxiously waited the signal to avenge, if need be, such unprovoked insult and aggression. Happily our firm demeanour has effectually quelled the storm, and impressed wiser and more wholesome measures, whereby peace has hitherto been continued. One sentence only shall express our feelings, as we look back upon the history of our _Scots Fusilier Guards_, which we have here attempted to sketch—Every man has nobly done his duty. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ THE FIRST ROYAL REGIMENT OF FOOT; or, ROYAL SCOTS. ---------- CHAPTER VIII. Heroes, in your ancestral line, Hallow the shades of “Auld Langsyne;” Men who in their country’s story Shine brightly on the page of glory, Noo sleep in bonnie Scotland. ANCIENT HISTORY—882–1660.