The real excitement of the week has been the landing from the British
warships of a troop of Highlanders. These soldiers, by their extraordinary
dress, caused a panic among the Turks, who, not knowing whether they were
friends or foes, mortals or bogies, proceeded to attack them.

The Turkish officers with great difficulty succeeded in quieting their men
and persuading them that the Highlanders were men and friends, but the
fame and the terror of them spread all over the island.

The insurgents heard that a new race of men had been landed by the allies,
and in their ignorance and superstition they fancied that some new and
terrible kind of creature had been sent against them.

There was a small panic among the Cretans for a few days, and it was not
until they had sent scouts to discover what kind of beings these were, and
the report had come back that these terrible Highlanders were but men
after all, that they had the courage to continue the fighting.

This is not the first time that the appearance of these men has struck
terror into the heart of an enemy, and in truth they are a very imposing
body of men, all of them over six feet in height. They walk with the
light, springing step that is peculiar to all Highlanders, and they hardly
seem to touch the ground as they march over it. They march to the music of
the bagpipes, which adds not a little to the awe which, they inspire. The
bagpipe is of all instruments the most uncanny and weird. When you see a
Highland regiment marching to the music of bagpipes, it seems to be the
only true music to which soldiers should march. Its wails and shrieks
sound like the groans of the dying, and the drone of the bass notes has a
fierce sound as it throbs and marks the tramp of the soldiers' feet, that