black and heavy night; we had marched on
without speaking—the two companies in close
proximity; when, as we neared the place
where the sentries were to be posted, we
heard the distant tramp of the enemy's relief
guard going their rounds, and the shrill notes
of a bagpipe rang through the air. I still
distinctly hear the subdued growl of
indignation which arose from the Scotchmen when
this sound smote upon their ears, and the
deep Gaelic oath of vengeance which they
uttered, as the well-known notes of the old
Jacobite air, ' Wha wadna fecht for Charlie?'
came surging over the plain.

"For three days and nights this continued;
the piper went round with the relief every
time the guard was changed, playing as loudly
as possible all his old national tunes, and
goading his ancient comrades to madness.

"On the morning of the fourth day after
Hepburn's desertion, it was determined to
attack the Carlist lines: principally with a
view of driving the enemy from a row of
two-storied stone huts, which they had fortified,
and from whence they could keep up a most
harassing fire on our sentries. The action
commenced at seven o'clock; and, after three
hours' hard fighting, a tremendous charge of
our gallant fellows broke the Carlist lines,
and sent them in full retreat to their row of
fortifications. Here they halted, re-formed,
and again advanced. Often, in my dreams,
rings in my ears the demoniac yell with
which the decimated Carlist band rushed
upon their victorious pursuers, cheered on by
a tall and handsome officer, in a fantastic
uniform, in whom, even amidst the smoke and
carnage, I recognised Evan Hepburn. I
looked, but could not see Levingham by his
side; I cast a hurried glance along my own
ranks, and discovered Prendergast within a
few feet of me. By the expression of his
face I saw that he, too, saw and knew his old
enemy; in an instant his musket was at his
shoulder, and before the opposing lines
clashed together, and with the cheer yet
ringing on his lips, Captain Hepburn fell to
the ground a corpse, shot dead by
Prendergast's hand.

"The action was over, the last desperate
attempt of the Carlists had been repulsed,
their fortifications carried, and they
themselves utterly routed. I was wandering
about on the plain, endeavouring to muster
the remnants of my company, when I came
upon a little knot of soldiers, bending over
what I imagined, at first, to be the dead body
of some favourite comrade. Pushing through
the crowd, I discovered, the body of Prendergast's
wife. She had left the lines with a flask
of wine and some bread for her husband,
and was making her way towards the place
where the conflict was raging, when a
portion of a shell struck her in the chest, and
put an end to the earthly trials of this devoted
girl. Sick at heart, and with tears in my
eyes, I was turning from the group, when my
arm was pressed by the kind grasp of the
old Colonel.

"'That is the saddest sight I ever saw,'
said he; 'worse, far worse, than a scene I
have just come from. You recollect that
scoundrelly Scotch piper who deserted with
Hepburn? He had built himself into one of
those stone huts, but the men of his old
regiment found him out, burst into the place, and
discovering him in the second story, four of
them seized him, two by his hands, and two
by his feet; and, then, chaunting meanwhile
a dismal Highland croon, they swung him
between them, and dashed out his brains
against the wall.'

"Twenty years have passed since that day,
and not many now remain to whom these
circumstances are known; but in the lunatic
ward of the Kerry County Hospital there is
still a tall, grey-haired, soldierly-looking
man, who is pointed out as "the poor
sergeant whose lady-wife followed him through
his campaigns, and died on the field of
battle."

The click of the telegraph-bell, just before
the climax of the story, foretold the advent
of the train, and in a minute after the Irishman
had ended it, the long, tortuous line
of carriages stopped at the station. Our
Legion friend had already got into the midst
of a military argument with the sergeant,
and to complete it, followed him and his
recruits into a second-class carriage: while I
flung myself into the corner of a coupe, and
falling asleep immediately, dreamed that
private Prendergast, when examined with the
microscope, turned out to be my Uncle
Burbidge, who had been discharged from his
situation as teacher in a training-school, from
his strange persistence in dressing as a
Highland piper.

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