Many and many a time has the efficacy of pipe music in rallying men and leading them on to victory been proved. At Quebec in April, 1760, when Fraser’s regiment were retreating in great disorder the general complained to a field officer of the behaviour of his corps. “Sir,” the officer replied, warmly, “you did very wrong in forbidding the pipers to play this morning; nothing encourages the Highlanders so much in the day of battle, and even now they would be of some use.” “Then,” said the general, “let them blow like the devil if that will bring back the men.” The pipers played a favourite martial air, and the Highlanders, the moment they heard it, reformed, and there was no more disorder. When the regiment raised by Lord Mac Leod in 1778, called the 73rd or Mac Leod’s Highlanders, was in India, General Sir Eyre Coote thought at first that the bagpipe was a “useless relic of the barbarous ages and not in any manner calculated to discipline troops.” But the distinctness with which the shrill sounds made themselves heard through the noise of battle and the influence they seemed to exercise induced him to change his opinion. At Port Novo in 1781, he, with eight thousand men, of which the 73rd was the only British regiment, defeated Hyder Ali’s army of twenty-five battalions of infantry, four hundred Europeans, from forty thousand to fifty thousand horse, and over one hundred thousand matchlock men, with forty-seven cannon. The 73rd was on the right of the first line, leading all the attacks, and the general’s notice was particularly attracted by the pipers, who always blew up the most warlike strains when the fire was hottest. This so pleased Sir Eyre Coote that he called out—“Well done, my brave fellows, you shall have a set of silver pipes for this.” And he was as good as his word, for he gave the men £50, and the pipes which this bought had an inscription testifying to the high opinion the general had of the pipers. At the battle of Assaye, again, the musicians were ordered to lay aside their instruments and attend to the wounded. One of the pipers who obeyed this order was afterwards reproached by his comrades. Flutes or hautbois, they told him, they could well spare, but for the piper, who should always be in the heat of the battle, to go to the rear with the whistles was a thing unheard of. The unfortunate piper was quite humbled, but he soon had an opportunity of playing off the stigma, for in the advance at Argaun shortly after, he played with such animation that the men could hardly be restrained from breaking the line and rushing to the charge before the time.