The Great Round World And What Is Going On In It, Vol. 1, No. 24, April 22, 1897. VariousЧитать онлайн книгу.
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 speaks of battle and conquests, and the advance of a victorious army.
These are not the only things which help to make foreigners believe the Highlanders some uncommon kind of creature. In addition, the costume they wear is so strange, that it is easy to understand how terrible they must appear to foreign eyes.
They are dressed in the old Scotch fashion, with short stockings, bare knees, and kilts (a short skirt which comes nearly to the knee). Over their shoulders hangs the "plaidie," which is a long shawl. They wear a tight coat, and in front of them hangs the sporran, a pocket made of white fur. The crowning glory of the Highland regiment is the bonnet. This is a hideous structure of brown beaver; it is over a foot in height, and from the side hang three mournful black plumes. This curious dress makes the men look about eight feet high, and as they are all strong, broad-shouldered fellows, they seem like giants.
At the battle of the Alma, in the Crimean war, the Forty-Second Highlanders turned the fate of the fight by their appearance.
They were ordered to attack a position held by the Russians, and when they sprang forward to the charge, their kilts and plaids floating around them, their bare knees glistening, and their huge bonnets and waving plumes making them look so tall, the Russians were terror-stricken. Seeing their white sporrans wave as they ran, the Russians mistook them for small horses, and could not believe that these terrible-looking creatures were but men running.
Crying out to each other that the Angels of Death on their snow-white horses were riding them down, the Russians dropped their arms, and fled in the greatest confusion.
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