if Colonel Baillie had not been betrayed by his hircarrah, he would have gone to the little fort of Tuckollim, then possessed by our people, and not above a mile from his right; and most evident it is, that Baillie would have done this in the night without any loss.

"Between four and five in the morning Colonel Baillie put the detachment again in motion. His order of march now was, Rumley's Sepoy Grenadiers, First Battalion, Powel's Battalion, all the Europeans, Nixon's Battalion, Grant's Foot, and Gowdie's Grenadier Sepoys,-the doolies and baggage covered by companies from the different corps marched upon his right flank.

"At daylight, being in the avenue running west on the great road to Arcot (Conjeveram being nearly south), the head of the detachment turned to the left into the plain between it and the small village of Polelore. This was the field on which the enemy had planned their inevitable destruction, and as soon as the front appeared turning out of the avenue, the enemy began to play most furiously upon it, from the tops on the left, and divers stations all along in front, from so many guns, that our people say, they could not guess at their number. Many fell before they had proceeded 300 yards over the plain. The ground was somewhat hollow here. Baillie halted and immediately sent out Captain Rumley with six companies of Sepoy Grenadiers to take five guns stationed behind a water-course. About 400 yards yards on the left of the detachment, he likewise sent the company of Marksmen as a reinforcement after the Grenadiers. Rumley took these guns, but by some fatality, they were neither used against the enemy nor spiked. The enemy immediately turned several pieces of cannon upon this party, and large bodies of horse advanced furiously. The Colonel made the First Battalion move out a little, but the Grenadiers flew back broken and confused. About the time that Baillie had arranged the Grenadiers, a cannon ball grazed one of his legs, and not long thereafter two of his tumbrels were blown up by the enemy's shot, the detachment, notwithstanding, maintained its steadiness, and repeatedly beat back the horse that attempted to cut in among them. The enemy's cannon were so heavy and numerous that even had we ammunition our small field-pieces could do very little against them. Some people think it unaccountable that the detachment stood the unremitting destruction by the enemy's artillery, for at least an hour and a-half, without making any attempt to extricate themselves. But what could be done? All ranks of the shattered party were now most sensible of their very critical situation. The commanding officer saw that the black troops particularly were quite disheartened. The enemy's guns were judiciously placed in divers stations behind trenches, and great bodies of their best horse drawn up on both flanks in readiness to charge. Hyder overlooked the whole scene; this was his first essay in the war. From what had already happened, as well as what finally, in a moment decided the affair, it is evident, that any movement they could possibly attempt, would but accelerate their ruin. In short, it appears plain that no measure could be devised or attempted to overcome such superior force. The least disorder when on the move, would probably determine the affair in a moment; besides, they were fixed by the assured arrival-by the certain assistance-of their

friends. Had not they every reason to hope that their General, with the army was by this time at hand, to relieve them? What would be said of Colonel Baillie had he, in a desperate attempt, lost his detachment at 7 or 8 o'clock,—in case General Munro with the army had arrived at Polelore at 10 o'clock. But to return to these brave men, Colonel Fletcher near the rear of the detachment, having something in view which is not, known, called aloud, 'Come this way, Grenadiers."*

"Instantly the Sepoys, and, in short, the whole detachment broke and flew back in the utmost disorder and confusion. The horse cut in among them as quick as thought, but Colonel Baillie rallied a body of the intrepid Europeans upon a small spot of ground that rose a little above the plain, at the distance of 300 yards from the ground on which they broke. This handful faced every way, and drove off the horse. Colonel Fletcher and many others were cut down upon this occasion, and but a few of even the European officers now appeared. There was not one black man to face the enemy. Such as fled beyond the spot on which the Europeans rallied were all put to the sword, as appeared by their bones, which covered the plain for about three-quarters of a mile, when we went over it in August last.

"All hopes of succour and relief being now exhausted, Colonel Baillie made a signal for surrendering, and a party of horse advanced, upon whom some of the Europeans fired, having no other idea than to sell their lives. as dear as possible.

"As the men's ammunition was now mostly expended, the horse rushed frequently on their bayonets. In one of these attempts, two horsemen seized upon Colonel Baillie, but his life was saved by his Brigade-Major, Mr Fraser, declaring to them who he was, and beseeching them not to kill him. This was instantly reported to Hyder, and he immediately ordered the slaughter to cease.

"By all accounts, it was half-an-hour past 9 o'clock before this melancholy and most unfortunate affair was finally concluded, before the slaughter ceased and the few remaining brave men threw away their useless arms. Much about the same time the advanced guard of our army was within three miles of Polelore—that is, about four miles from their distressed friends; but alas! here they turned their backs upon this most hardy and resolute band, who, to the last moment, looked for their assist

ance.

"The ground on which the Europeans made the last desperate stand rises a little above the plain. Their bones remained upon it, with a great quantity of their braided hair; and all round and close by this spot, lay the bones of many horses, which they had killed."

(To be Continued.)

The ground on which Colonel Baillie halted the detachment was so.newhat a hollow, and he made the men to couch or sit down to avoid, as much as possible, the destruction by the enemy's heavy artillery. In this situation they were very much galled by musketry from the avenue-distant about 180 yards; and it is supposed that when Colonel Fletcher called out, Grenadiers, come this way," his view was to drive the enemy's infantry from the avenue,

66

THE CLEARING OF THE GLENS.

BY PRINCIPAL SHAIRP, ST ANDREWS UNIVERSITY.

THE following poem attempts to reproduce facts heard, and impressions received, during the wanderings of several successive summers among the scenes which are here described. Whatever view political economists may take of these events, it can hardly be denied that the form of human society, and the phase of human suffering, here attempted to be described, deserve at least some record. If the lesser incidents of the poem are not all literally exact, of the main outlines and leading events of the simple story it may well be said, "It's an ower true tale." The story is supposed to be told by a grandson of the Ewan Cameron, and a nephew of the Angus Cameron of the poem-one who, as a boy, had seen and shared in the removal of the people from his native glen.

Eighty years have come and gone
Since on the dark December night,
East and west Glen Dessaray shone
With fires illumining holm and height—
A sudden and a marvellous sight!
Never since dread Culloden days
The Bens had seen such beacons blaze;
But those were lurid, boding bale
And vengeance on the prostrate Gael,
These on the tranquil night benign,
As with a festal gladness, shine.
One from the knoll that shuts the glen
Flings down the loch a beard of fire;
Up on the braesides, homes of men
Answer each other, high and higher,
Across the valley with a voice
Of light that shouts, rejoice, rejoice.
Nor less within the red torch-pine
And peat-fires piled on hearth combine
To brighten rafters glossy-clear
With lustre strange for many a year.
And blithe sounds since the Forty-five
Unheard within these homes revive,
Now with the pibroch, now with song,
Driving the night in joy along.
What means it all? how can it be
Such sights and sounds of revelry

From a secluded silent race
Break on the solitary place?

That music sounds, these beacons burn

In honour of the Chief's return.

II.

Long had our people sat in gloom
Within their own Glen Dessaray,
O'er-shadowed by the cloud of doom
That gathered on that doleful day,
When ruin from Culloden moor
The hills of Albyn darkened o'er,
From east to west, from shore to shore.
No loyal home in glen or strath
But felt the red-coats' vengeful wrath;
Yet most on these our glens it fell,
They that had loved the Prince so well;
To Moidart when he friendless came,
Had hailed him first with welcome brave,
When bloodhound bayed, and beacon flame
For him was blazing, shelter gave.

III.

No home in all this glen but mourned
Some loved one laid in battle low;
Who from the headlong rout returned
Were kept for heavier woe.

From their own hills with helpless gaze
To watch their flocks by spoilers driven,
Their roofs with ruthless fires ablaze,
Reddening the dark night heaven.
Some on the mountains hunted down

With their blood stained the heather brown,
And many more were driven forth

Lorn exiles from their native earth;
While he, the gentle and the brave,
Lochiel, who led them, doomed to bide
A life-long exile, found a grave
Far from his own Loch Arkaig side.
And when at last war guns were hushed,
And back to wasted farms they fared,
With bitter memories, spirits crushed,
The remnant, sword and famine spared,
Saw the old order banished, saw
The old clan-ties asunder torn,
For their chief's care a factor's scorn,
And iron rule of Saxon law,

One rent to him, constrained to bring
'The German lairdie,' called a king;

They o'er the sea in secret sent
To their own Chief another rent
In his far place of banishment.
IV.

When forty years had come and gone,
At length on lone Glen Dessaray shone
A day like sudden spring new-born
From the womb of winter dark and lorn,
The day for which all hearts had yearned,
With tidings of their Chief returned.
Yea, spring-like on that wintry time,
The tidings came from southron clime,
That he their leal long-exiled lord

Ere long would meet their hearts' desires,
Their chieftain to his own restored
Another home would re-instate

Beside the place long desolate

The ruined home where dwelt his sires :
Not he who led the fatal war,
No! nor his son-they sleep afar,
But sprung from the old heroic tree
An offshoot in the third degree.

V.

It wakened mountain, loch, and glen,
That cry--Lochiel comes back again ;'
Loch Leven and Loch Linnhe's shore
Shout to the head of Nevis Ben,
The crags and corries of Màmore
Rang to that word, "He comes again."
High up along Lochaber Braes
Fleeter than fiery cross it sped,
The Great Glen heard with glad amaze
And rolled it on to Loch Askaig-head.
From loch to hill the tidings spread,
It smote with joy each dwelling place
Of Camerons-clachan, farm, and shiel,
And the long glens that interlace
The mountains piled benorth Lochiel.
Glen Malie, Glen Camagorie,

Resounded to the joyful cry,

Westward with the sunset fleeing,

It roused the homes of green Glen Pean;
Glen Kinzie tossed it on--unburn'd
It swept o'er rugged Màm-Clach-Ard,
Start at these sounds the rugged bounds
Of Arisaig, Moidart, Morar, and Knoydart,
Down to the ocean's misty bourn
By dark Loch Nevish and Lochourn,