carried out of further danger by Private Lawson. The first division reach the sheltering rocks, panting for breath; they shout, the officers waving their swords to those behind; while Piper Findlater, though wounded and unable to move, still inspires them with his warlike strains. They start again, ‘the men cheering like mad,’ up the precipitous path leading to the crest where they look for a warm reception. But the top is reached—it forms a succession of ridges along which the Highlanders rush unopposed, and great is the cheering as they realise that the enemy is in full flight.” To put it bluntly, the Afridis had not waited to dispute the position with men who could not be stopped by bullets, and this charge in the face of such a deadly and concentrated fire will be long considered as courageous and splendid a story as anything in the history of the Highland regiments. What followed can be told in very few lines. The war against the Afridis was by no means over, but the eventual issue was already in sight. The advance through the almost impenetrable ravines and over the rugged hills progressed painfully, but with determination. Peace came on April 4, 1898. It had been a memorable campaign, and one that the troops engaged in were naturally proud to commemorate. As Sir William Lockhart said in taking leave of them, “The boast of the tribes was that no foreign army—Moghul, Afghan, Persian, or British—had ever penetrated, or could penetrate their country; but after carrying three strong positions and being for weeks subsequently engaged in daily skirmishes, the troops succeeded in visiting every portion of Tirah, a fact which will be kept alive in the minds of future generations by ruined forts and towers in their remotest valleys.” The Gordons received two Victoria Crosses for gallantry in the action at Dargai, and established themselves, by their exploit, first favourites in the affections of the British people. CHAPTER XXIV FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE BOER WAR TO THE BATTLE OF MODDER RIVER (1899) “She stands alone: ally nor friend has she,” Saith Europe of our England—her who bore Drake, Blake, and Nelson—Warrior-Queen who wore Light’s conquering glaive that strikes the conquered free. Alone?—From Canada comes o’er the sea, And from that English coast with coral shore, The old-world cry Europe hath heard of yore From Dover cliffs: “Ready, aye ready we!” “Europe,” saith England, “hath forgot my boys!— Forgot how tall, in yonder golden zone ‘Neath Austral skies, my youngest born have grown (Bearers of bayonets now and swords for toys)— Forgot ‘mid boltless thunder—harmless noise— The sons with whom old England ‘stands alone’!” THEODORE WATTS-DUNTON.