their breath. "It's a long way to Inveraray" is the Scotch variant of
the new army song, but the Scots have not altogether abandoned their own
marching airs, and it is a stirring thing to hear the chorus of "The
Nut-Brown Maiden," for instance, sung in the Gaelic tongue as these
kilted soldiers swing forward on the long white roads of France.

A charming little letter published in _The Times_ tells how the
Highlanders and their pipers turned Melun into a "little Scotland" for
a week, and the enthusiastic writer contributes some verses for a
suggested new reel, of which the following have a sly allusion to the
Kaiser's order for the extermination of General French's "contemptible
little army":

"What! Wad ye stop the pipers?
Nay, 'tis ower soon!
Dance, since ye're dancing, William,
Dance, ye puir loon!
Dance till ye're dizzy, William,
Dance till ye swoon!
Dance till ye're deid, my laddie!
We play the tune!"

This is all quite in the spirit of the Highland soldiers. A Frenchman,
writing to a friend in London goes into ecstasies over the behavior of
the Scots in France, and says that at one railway station he saw two
wounded Highlanders "dancing a Scotch reel which made the crowd fairly
shriek with admiration." Nothing can subdue these Highlanders' spirits.
They go into action, as has already been said, just as if it were a
picnic, and here is a picture of life in the trenches at the time of the
fierce battle of Mons. It is related by a corporal of the Black Watch.