Summary

J. Kincaid,  Random Shots from a Rifleman

“ His whole appearance, even in sleep, shewed exactly as it had been in the execution of that duty; his splendid figure was so disposed that it seemed as if he was taking the first step on the breach—his eyebrows were elevated—his nostrils still distended—and, altogether, he looked as if he would clutch the castle in his remaining hand. No one could have seen him at that moment without saying, "there lies a hero!"
Of the doomed, who still survived, was poor Donald Mac Pherson, a gigantic highlander of about six feet and a half, as good a soul as ever lived; in peace a lamb—in war a lion.
”
Source: Gutenberg

J. Kincaid,  Random Shots from a Rifleman

“ I therefore chose that which had long been the object of my secret adoration, as well for its dress as the nature of its services and its achievements, the old ninety-fifth, now the Rifle Brigade.—"Hurrah for the first in the field and the last out of it, the bloody fighting ninety-fifth," was the cry of my followers while beating up for more recruits—and as glory was their object, a fighting and a bloody corps the gallant fellows found it, for out of the many who followed Captain Strode and me to it, there were but two serjeants and myself, after the sixth campaign, alive to tell the tale. ”
Source: Gutenberg

J. Kincaid,  Random Shots from a Rifleman

“ We were there, as our gallant historian (Napier) tells us, in as judicious but, at the same time, in as desperate a position as any that Lord Wellington had held during the war; yet, I am free to say, however, that none of us knew any thing at all about the matter, and cared still less. We there held, as we ever did, the most unbounded confidence in our chief, and a confidence in ourselves, fed by continued success, which was not to be shaken; so that we were at all times ready for any thing, and reckless of every thing. ”
Source: Gutenberg

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