shrieking under the arches of the palace, was a most striking sight.
That was the first time I heard the bagpipes of the Highland regiments.
I have often heard them since, and they always remind me of that
wonderfully dramatic incident in the great Indian Mutiny, the relief of
Lucknow. In Lucknow, the capital of the kingdom of Oude, a handful of
British soldiers, with the women and children who had escaped the
massacre, had taken refuge in a huge and strongly built place called the
Residency. Isolated in the heart of India, besieged for months on end,
without any outside news, starving, decimated by sickness and the
enemy's fire, women and soldiers alike, with true British pluck, and
having lost all hope of succour, had no thought but to sell their lives
as dearly as possible. All at once the noise of the daily cannonade and
the rifle fire seem to be doubled, and unaccustomed shouts are heard,
like the national "hurrah." The cheering seems to get nearer, but the
Sepoys have so often cheered derisively! Suddenly another sound strikes
on the ear of the besieged. The bagpipes! The bagpipes! And soon they
make out the famous Highland march, The Campbells are coming!
Reinforcements they were, collected from all quarters, English and
Scotch, soldiers and sailors too, commanded by old Lord Clyde of
Balaclava fame. By main force they carried the works the mutineers,
tenfold their strength, had thrown up round Lucknow, bringing unhoped-
for succour from the mother country, nay, bringing actual salvation with
them. A wonderful moment!

I got back to Paris to hear the news of the failure of the first
expedition against Constantine, and the brilliant part my brother
Nemours had played in that terrible business. I never doubted that
signal revenge would soon be taken for the check, and I was in despair
that my being a sailor stood in the way of my asking to be allowed to
have a share in it.