Somerset, Coleraine, Ireland,
25th November, 1906.

My dear Williams,

We were on the Curragh ... and next us were the old Gordons. We were always pointing out to them that, for Scotchmen in the ranks, they could not hold a candle to us. One day some of them came to us, and told us they had a batch of recruits coming, real Highlanders, such as we had not, "none of 'em had seen the English," and the band and pipes had gone to Newbridge to "march 'em up." So down we all went to the outlet of the Newbridge road to see the arrival on the Curragh. Sure enough, soon we heard the pipes and saw the sporrans swinging, always a glorious sight! and on the boys came, straight from their mountains and glens. But, alas! as they passed us and came in full view of the Curragh, a young recruit in the ranks turned to his comrade and said, "Why, bust me, Billy, if this ain't Putney 'Eath without the pubs." Tableau! and triumphal march home of the old Greys.

At the same period as this, one night the old Gordons poured through windows and doors into our mess and fairly wrecked us. So we joined forces and went for the 9th Lancers together in the same fashion. When all was smashed, all lights out, and everybody was leaning up against walls in torn and tattered mess uniform trying to get breath, in came a frightened mess waiter with a candle stuck in a ginger-beer bottle. This revealed a tablecloth on the floor still heaving up and down, the last struggle of a glorious fight. This was slipped away, and underneath was found the Junior Sub. of the Gordons tightly gripping the Colonel of the 9th Lancers by the throat—the chief nearly black in the face. But a more good-natured man never lived. He made it a subject of chaff, and a bond between all three regiments was thereby forged which I know will never be broken....

J. A. Torrens.

At Dundalk in 1868 during a good run with the Regimental Drag Hounds, a grey horse, Barabbas, owned and ridden by Lieutenant Bashford, pounded the field over a very boggy brook. At dinner the same evening, while discussing the extraordinary cleverness of the horse (after clearing the brook a native having roared out "Begorra, he changed on a trout"!), Mr. Wilkinson, the resident magistrate of Castle Bellingham, made a bet of £25 that Barabbas could not jump the mess-room table. The bet was at once accepted, and Mr. Bashford getting permission of the Colonel, went straight off to the stable, put on the saddle and bridle, and brought the horse into the mess-room. Captain Hicks, the paymaster, jumped on his back, and in a second had cleared the table.

Scene—The Crimea, two or three days before the charge of Balaclava. The Scots Greys are mounted and drawn up in line behind a hill waiting for orders. Lieut.-Colonel Darby Griffiths is sitting on his horse in front of the centre of the line. To him comes a young and very excited staff officer at full gallop, who says: "Colonel, ten men who dare go anywhere and know no fear are wanted at once. They must be desperate fellows, as they have a desperate job to perform. Please let me have them as soon as possible." Old Darby Griffiths, scarcely turning in his saddle, and without a moment's hesitation: "Greys, from your right number off ten!"

H. S.

THE LOST DUCKS

Some years ago a famous and historic cavalry regiment was moving from England to Ireland, marching by detachments, mostly of a troop each, to embark at Liverpool. These were billeted at nights in some town, foot and horse billets often widely scattered, and sometimes far separated one from the other. In the mornings, at the time appointed for marching away, all assembled at the rendezvous, usually the market-place, or a main street near the hotel where the officers were quartered. There a dense crowd watched the parade, the inspection, and the march off. On a certain occasion, the captain of C Troop, just before turning out, was interviewed by an angry, excited inn-keeper, who declared that the troopers billeted on him had stolen two of his fine, fat, white ducks. The captain assured him he must be mistaken, but that every means would be taken, if it were so, to detect and punish the culprits, and promised compensation. Owing to the great crowd round the parade, nothing could be done until clear of the town. On these marches, when horses were liable to sore backs and rubs from careless saddling, packing kit, girthing, etc., it was usual, after a trot, to halt a mile or so away from the billets, dismount, and carefully examine each horse and its equipment. On this occasion, the captain ordered kits to be unpacked, cloaks to be unrolled sufficiently to prevent the possibility of ducks being concealed in them. He then rode round the ranks drawn up on both sides of the road, and made a careful inspection. It revealed not even a feather of the ducks. From the next town he wrote to the aggrieved complainant, proving him to have been mistaken, and saying that such a charge should not have been brought against his men, who were incapable of stealing.

It was some years before the truth became known to the captain. In those days, officers on the line of march sent their light baggage by train with their servants, and carried nothing on their horses except brushes and stable rubbers for smartening up before entering a town, but they were ordered to carry behind the saddle a long-shaped valise, supposed to hold the kit, but usually filled with hay or straw to prevent rubbing the horse's back.

On that day the missing ducks were packed away in the captain's valise, and during his inspection and the whole of the day's march, he carried behind him the theft he was seeking to discover.

A. C. E. Welby.

The following by very kind leave of the author, an old officer of the Greys:—

THE BONNIE SCOTS GREYS.

(Air—"Bonnie Dundee.")

Come Highland, come Lowland, lend ear to the praise
 Of the bravest of horsemen, your own gallant Greys;
 Ye Scots far away from your native land, come,
 Hear the fame of the Jocks, ever "Second to none."
Come, Scots, drink a health to your "Second to none";
 To your own bonnie Greys, to their victories won;
 Come, drink to the luck of your Jocks, one and all,
 Wherever their trumpet of duty may call.
O, see the grey horses come stepping along,
 So proud in their glory, so famous in song;
 Black bonnets of bearskin; O, where are the peers
 Of the men on grey horses, the Scots Grenadiers?
Come, Scots, drink a health, etc.
Their deeds are enshrined in the annals of war;
 They have rode down the French, times a hundred and a',
 And of standards and colours have ta'en such a store,
 Not a corps in the world that has ever won more.
Come, Scots, drink a health, etc.
Many hundreds of French they at Blenheim did chase,
 Penned them back in the village and made to cry grace;
 Then at Ramillies captured the Corps of the King
 And of standards a score with them homeward did bring.
Come, Scots, drink a health, etc.
See the white broider'd flag of the Household of France,
 Like its thunderbolt emblem, at Dettingen glance;
 "The giants have felt it," true motto that day,
 When the hands of the Scotsmen had borne it away.
Come, Scots, drink a health, etc.
Now fill a full glass to the old ninety-twa,
 So leal in their friendship, so gallant in war,
 With a "Scotland for ever," the Waterloo shout,
 When the Greys and the Gordons drove Frenchmen to rout.
Come, Scots, drink a health, etc.
"Ah, the beautiful Greys, I must crush them, I ween";
 But the Greys reached the hill where Napoleon had been,
 While the brave Sergeant Ewart an Eagle has ta'en,
 And the Union Brigade gathered laurels of fame.
Come, Scots, drink a health, etc.
Balaclava resounds with the shouts of the Greys;
 All the horsemen of Russia stand still with amaze;
 Each Grey hews a path through the dense-crowded horde,
 And the Russians spur homeward with willing accord.
Come, Scots, drink a health, etc.
Their deeds were their duty to Scotland, and a';
 Should the trumpet again sound the charge in a war,
 Not a Russian or Frenchman will e're dare to stay,
 When they hear the wild war shout of "Scotland for aye."
Come, Scots, drink a health to your "Second to none";
 To your own bonnie Greys, to their victories won;
 Come, drink to the luck of your Jocks, one and all,
 Wherever their trumpet of duty may call.

Alfred C. E. Welby.

On the eastern wall of the north transept of Norwich Cathedral is a memorial tablet as follows:—

To the memory of
Lieutenant-Colonel Sir Thomas Pate Hankin, Kt.,
who died at Norwich
October 26th, 1825,
in the 60th year of his age.
This tablet is placed here as a tribute of respect
by the
Officers of the Royal Scots Greys,
in which regiment he had passed the greater part of his life, and commanded it
at the time of his death.

Extract from letter by the Honourable Charles Hamilton to his brother, George Baillie, during the Westphalian campaign. The original letter belongs to Lord Binning, who allowed his cousin, Captain Lindsay, to have this extract carefully made for him by the Honourable Hen. Dalrymple, brother of the Earl of Stair.

Buna Camp, Aug. 28th, 1760.

The Army stays where it was at Warburg. The Duke changed his quarters to Bunay a few days ago, it is about eight miles from Warburg. We are to march this day. The French marched from ground some time ago towards Cassel. The Hereditary Prince attacked their rearguard, the Grays & Inniskillings attacked some Cavalry, they were the only British Cavalry with the Prince, & tore them like pork & made dogs of them. In the persuit they were saluted with a fire from some infantry that killed several & wounded a good many. Col. Preston had his horse killed upon a bridge both he and his horse fell over, he was a good deal bruised.

NOTES ON CREICHTOUN'S MEMOIRS

(Kindly supplied by J. B. Dalzell, Esq.)

Creichtoun says:—

1. He commanded at Ayrsmoss. (Bruce of Earlshall did.) "The Royalists killed about sixty and took fourteen prisoners." (Nine only were killed and five taken prisoners.)

2. The "rebels" at Drumclog were "eight or nine thousand strong." (There were only 250 in all.)

3. Sir Robert Hamilton, who commanded at Drumclog was "a profligate who had spent all his patrimony." (The evidence of the historian, Bishop Barnet, and of other reputable authorities, is all the other way.)

4. The number of the "rebels" at Bothwell Bridge was 14,000, and the bridge was "guarded with three thousand of the rebels." (Three thousand is nearer the mark, with only two or three hundred guarding the bridge.)

5. The "rebels had set up a very large gallows in the middle of their camp, and prepared a cartful of new ropes at the foot of it in order to hang the king's soldiers." (This gallows was simply the usual permanent gallows of the Sheriff Court of Lanarkshire Netherward.)

6. David Steele was dispatched by swords in his absence. (Steele surrendered under promise of quarter and a fair trial. But Creichtoun conveyed him to Steele's house, nearly a mile, and there in the presence of the man's wife and her little babe, Mary Steele, ordered the dragoons to shoot him. To their credit, the dragoons absolutely refused and rode off, but the Highlanders, who probably knew Gaelic only, and were therefore ignorant of Creichtoun's gross breach of faith, fired.)

These six instances are but a sample of the exaggeration and mendacious inventions only too common throughout Creichtoun's memoirs, and the reader would therefore do well to hesitate before accepting what is not corroborated by independent evidence.

NOTE ON GENERAL DALYELL

Immediately after the death of General Dalyell, his eldest son Thomas was created a baronet of Nova Scotia. Considerably over one hundred varieties in spelling this curious ancient Scottish surname have been collected. The General and his father, the Sheriff of Linlithgowshire, uniformly spelt their surname Dalyell, as their descendants are in the habit of doing at the present day.

J. B. DALZELL.