s at the Kalee Nuddee bridge, and who
called out: "Three cheers for the Commander-in-Chief, boys," when Sir
Colin Campbell was threatening to send the regiment to the rear for
breach of orders. Clary was a County Limerick boy of the right sort,
such as filled the ranks of our Irish regiments of the old days. No
Fenian nor Home Ruler; but ever ready to uphold the honour of the
British Army by land or by sea, and to share the contents of his
haversack or his glass of grog with a comrade; one of those whom Scott
immortalises in _The Vision of Don Roderick_.

Hark! from yon stately ranks what laughter rings,
Mingling wild mirth with war's stern minstrelsy,
His jest while each blithe comrade round him flings,
And moves to death with military glee!
Boast, Erin, boast them! tameless, frank, and free,
In kindness warm, and fierce in danger known,
Rough Nature's children, humorous as she.

When Captain M'Donald, whose company we had joined, saw the two
Fifty-Third boys, he told them that they had better rejoin their own
regiment. Clary replied, "Sure, Captain, you don't mean it;" and seeing
Dr. Munro, our surgeon, busy giving directions to his assistants and
arranging bandages, etc., in a _dooly_, Clary went on:--"We have been
sent by Lieutenant Munro of our company to take care of his namesake
your doctor, who never thinks of himself, but is sure to be in the thick
of the fight, looking out for wounded men. You of the Ninety-Third don't
appreciate his worth. There's not another doctor in the army to equal
him or to replace him should he get knocked over in this scrimmage, and
we of the Fifty-Third have come to take care of him." "If that is the
case," said Captain M'Donald, "I'll allow you to remain; but you must
take care that no harm befalls our doctor, for he is a great friend of
mine." And with that Captain M'Donald stepped aside and plucked a rose
from a bush close by, (we were then formed up in what had been a
beautiful garden), and going up to Munro he gave him the flower saying,
"Good-bye, old friend, keep this for my sake." I have often recalled
this incident and wondered if poor Captain M'Donald had any presentiment
that he would be killed! Although he had been a captain for some years,
he was still almost a boy. He was a son of General Sir John M'Donald,
K.C.B., of Dalchosnie, Perthshire, and was wounded in his right arm
early in the day by a splinter from a shell, but he refused t