“A Highland piper shot through both his feet, Lay on the ground in agonising pain; The cry was raised, ‘The Highlanders retreat; They run, they fly, they rally not again!’ The piper heard, and, rising on his arm, Clutched to his heart the pipes he loved so well, And blew a blast—a dirge-like shrill alarm, That quickly changed to the all-jubilant swell Of ‘Tullochgorum.’ Swift as lightning flash, Or fire in stubble, the tumultuous sound Thrilled through the clansmen’s hearts, and with a dash Of unreflecting valour, at one bound They turned upon their hot-pursuing foes, And faced them with one wild tempestuous cheer That almost drowned the music as it rose Defiant o’er the field, loud, long, and clear! Scotland was in it, and the days of old When, to the well-remembered pibrochs of their sires, They danced the exultant reel on hillsides cold, Or warmed their hearts with patriotic fires. The startled enemy, in sudden dread, Staggered and paused, then, pale with terror, fled; The clansmen followed—hurling shout on shout— In martial madness on the hopeless rout. ’Twas but five minutes from the set of sun, And ere it sank the victory was won! Glory and honour, all that men can crave, Be thine, O piper, bravest of the brave!” We have several stories of Waterloo which point the same moral. One piper was shot in the leg before he got properly started with his music, and this so roused his Highland blood that, dashing his pipes to the ground, he drew his broadsword and fought with the fury of a lion until he died from many wounds. A pipe-major of the Gordons placed himself on an eminence, amid a shower of shot, and proudly sounded the battle charge, and Piper Kenneth Mac Kay, a native of Tongue, and one of the 79th Cameron Highlanders, specially distinguished himself at Quatre Bras a few days earlier. During the formation of the regiment, while the brigade was threatened by a body of French cavalry, Piper Mac Kay calmly stepped outside the bayonets and played _Cogadh na Sith_ with inspiring effect, almost right in front of the enemy. The incident is best told in a poem by Alice C. Mac Donnell, of Keppoch, contributed to the _Celtic Monthly_ of June, 1895:—