And fair sets he,
But he has lost the blithe blink he had
In my ain countrie.
Oh, gladness comes to many,
But sorrow comes to me,
As I look o’er the wide ocean
To my ain countrie.
Old Highland Air.
It may appear that our last chapter, telling of an action in 1799, has fallen out of place, but there are sufficient reasons why it should come where it does. The trouble with Tippoo Sahib commenced very much sooner, only reaching its climax at Seringapatam, while being at best but an echo of the battle thunder in Europe.
We are now entering upon the first actions in what was to prove a long and terrible war in Europe. For long England had fought France in America and India. From now until 1815 the conflict was to rage ever fiercer nearer home, to break out in Flanders, to spread to Egypt, to drench the Peninsula in blood, and finally to return to the tragic plains of Belgium.