Travel Diaries and Journals

mercy from the maddened & infuriated watcher hands they had fallen in England

[clippings from Punch pasted over pencil text] PUNCH,

[August 29, 1863.

Colin Campell, Lord Clyde.

Died, Friday, August 14, Buried, Saturday, August 22, 1863.

Another great, grey-headed, chieftain gone To join his brethren on the silent shore! Another link with a proud past undone! Another stress of life-long warfare o'er!

Few months have passed since that grey head we saw Bending above the vault where OUTRAM slept; Lingering as if reluctant to withdraw From that grave-side, where sun-bronzed soldiers wept.

The thought filled many minds, is he the next To take his place within the Abbey walls? A gnarled trunk, by many tempests vext, That bears its honours high, even as it falls.

He is the next! the name that was a fear To England's swarthy foes, all India through, Is now a memory! No more fields will hear His voice of stern command, that rand so true.

The tartaned ranks he led and loved no more Will spring like hounds unleashed, at his behest; No more that eye will watch his soldiers o'er, As mother o'ers their babes, awake, at rest.

A life of roughest duty, from the day When with the boy's down soft upon his chin, He marched to fight, as others run to play, Like a young squire his knightly spurs to win.

And well won them ; in the fever-swamp, In foughten field, by trench and leaguered wall,

[pencil text] a Swan spreading her plumage as she goes. at last She leaves the river the passengers Crowd the decks & take a last look of their beloved. land gradually the outline of the white cliffs of old England