Farewell,
sir--farewell!"
The good man could scarce retire from the fatal spot. An officer
afforded him the support of his arm. At his last look towards
Hamish, he beheld him alive and kneeling on the coffin; the few
that were around him had all withdrawn. The fatal word was
given, the rock rung sharp to the sound of the discharge, and
Hamish, falling forward with a groan, died, it may be supposed,
without almost a sense of the passing agony.
Ten or twelve of his own company then came forward, and laid with
solemn reverence the remains of their comrade in the coffin,
while the Dead March was again struck up, and the several
companies, marching in single files, passed the coffin one by
one, in order that all might receive from the awful spectacle the
warning which it was peculiarly intended to afford. The regiment
was then marched off the ground, and reascended the ancient
cliff, their music, as usual on such occasions, striking lively
strains, as if sorrow, or even deep thought, should as short a
while as possible be the tenant of the soldier's bosom.
At the same time the small party, which we before mentioned, bore
the bier of the ill-fated Hamish to his humble grave, in a corner
of the churchyard of Dunbarton, usually assigned to criminals.
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