could break him of this propensity; he would take any punishment quite placidly, and then straightway repeat the offence at the first opportunity.  And he developed also a curious habit of tracking his master when he dined out.  No matter how “Sandy” was fastened up in barracks, before the meal was half over in the bungalow where his master happened to be dining, in would march the dog, quite calm and apparently at home, and would make willing friends with everyone at table, except with his master, whom he would steadily ignore throughout the evening.  Though “Sandy” was very far from being a lady’s dog, and though at ordinary times he would take small notice of ladies, yet now he would most gently and affectionately submit to be caressed and fondled by all the ladies at table, and would apparently in reality be the “sweet,” good-natured “pet” they styled him; yet too well his master knew from bitter experience that already that evening had Death, in the shape of “Sandy,” stalked heavy-footed amongst the domestic pets and poultry of that bungalow.  And morning always revealed a formidable list of dead.  “Sandy’s” bite was sure; he left no wounded on the field of his labours.

A PRIVATE OF THE KING’S OWN SCOTTISH BORDERERS

As the evening closed in, the heavy south-westerly gale that had raged throughout the long-drawn summer’s day gradually dropped, and blew now only in fitful gusts.  Instead of the sullen, unending roar of artillery, which till past mid-day had stunned the ear, there was now to be heard only the muttering of distant thunder; the flash of guns was replaced by the glare of lightning flickering against the dark background of heavy cloud that hung low on the horizon; and, except for an irregular splutter of musketry, or an occasional dropping shot from direction of the town, the ominous, sustained rattle of small-arms had now entirely ceased.

The night of the 31st July 1759 had seen the French army march out beyond the ramparts of Minden, to take up position against the Allied Forces under Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick.  So fiercely blew the gale then that it drowned the sound of the town clocks striking midnight; so furiously raged the storm with the coming of day that, to windward, even the roar of cannon could not be heard, and it was only the dense clouds of smoke that told they were engaged.

As day broke on the 1st of August the French, under a heavy artillery fire, had attacked with fury, but now, repulsed and broken at every point, they were driven back to their old position behind the town ramparts, where for a few hours longer they staved off surrender.

On the Allied right, where fighting had been hottest and most stubborn, the chief brunt of the action fell on six regiments of British infantry, supported by three battalions of Hanoverians.  Never have troops of any nation reaped greater glory, nor earned more lasting fame, than that day fell to the lot of those battalions.