The breast, cuffs, collars, and skirts were covered with lace, the cause of much dry pipe-claying. Some corps had it with square bars, others in “frogs.” The 42d had the latter. Its abolition about 1830 was regretted by many, because it was an old-established custom, and also that it added much to the appearance of the sergeants’ uniform; but when it came to be worn at a cost of from six to seven pounds for lace and fringe, it was, without doubt, a hardship, and Sir Charles Gordon did well in abolishing it.[362]
All the staff-sergeants wore the turned-back blue lappels, barred with square lace, and hooked in the middle, which was particularly handsome, and much admired. They ceased to wear the silver at the same time as the others, more to their regret, as a coat served many of them for years. The sergeant-major and quarter-sergeant only continued it, being furnished to them, with handsome bullion wings, along with their clothing.
The only changes of late years have been the Highland jacket and dark hose, both for the better, and the bonnet much reduced in size, also a decided improvement, all introduced after the Crimean war. The kilt is also more ample, and better made, adding to the better figure and appearance of the men, who are in all better dressed at present (1873) than at any previous period. May they always continue to be the pattern, as they ought to be, to all the Highland regiments, and that not only in dress, but also in all the qualities of good soldiers.
Out of the many pets of the regiment, we present our readers with the lives of these three, as being on the whole most worthy of record,—the dog “Pincher,” “Donald” the Deer, and the “Grenadiers’ Cat.”
“Pincher” was a small smooth-skinned terrier that attached himself to the regiment on the march in Ireland, at some stage near to Naas, its destination on coming home after the Peninsular war in 1814. Pincher was truly a regimental dog. If he had any partiality, it was slightly towards the light company. He marched to Kilkenny with the regiment, back from Naas, remained with it during the winter, and embarked for Flanders in the spring; went into action with it at Quatre Bras, and was wounded somewhat severely in the neck and shoulder, but, like a good soldier, would not quit the field. He was again in action at Waterloo, accompanied his regiment to Paris, and, amidst armies of all nations, Pincher never lost himself, came home, kept to his post, and went over to his native country in 1817. Late in that year, or early in 1818, he went with some men going on furlough to Scotland, who were landed at Irvine. Poor Pincher ran after some rabbits in an open warren, and was shot by a keeper, to the general grief of the regiment, when the intelligence reached it, which was not until one of the men returned from Scotland to join. In the meantime, Pincher had hardly been missed. There was some wonder at Armagh, and remarks made that Pincher was long on his rounds, but no anxiety regarding him, because it was well known, that from the time of his joining the regiment in 1814, it mattered not how many detachments were out from headquarters, in turn he visited them all; and it was often a matter of wonder how he arrived, and by what instinct he found them out. Poor Pincher was a good and faithful soldier’s dog, and, like many a good soldier, died an inglorious death. His memory was respected while his generation existed in the regiment.
“Donald” the Deer was with the depot which awaited the regiment when it went into Edinburgh Castle in September 1836 after landing at Granton from Corfu. He was a youth at the time, and not so formidable as to cause his antlers to be cut, which had to be done afterwards. He marched the three days to Glasgow in June 1837. He was somewhat mischievous that year, sometimes stopping the way when he chose to make his lair, or with the meddlers and intruders on the Green when the regiment was out at exercise. But it was in Dublin, in the summer of 1838, that Donald came out. Without any training, he took his place at the head of the regiment alongside of the sergeant-major. Whether marching to and from the Phœnix Park for exercise, marching out in winter, or at guard mounting on the day the 42d furnished the band and staff, Donald was never absent. He accompanied the regiment to all garrison field-days, went to feed until the time came for going home, was often a mile from them, but always at his post when the time came. With one exception, about the third field-day, the 79th were there for the first time, and Donald trotted up to them when marching off. He somehow discovered his mistake, and became uneasy and bumptious, and on reaching Island Bridge, when the 79th had to turn off to Richmond Barracks, declined to accompany his new friends any farther. Colonel Ferguson desired half a dozen men to hand over their muskets to their comrades, and to drive Donald towards the Royal Barracks. He went willingly, and happened to rejoin his own corps at the Park gate, evidently delighted. He never committed a similar mistake. When the regiment had the duty, he invariably went with the guard to the Castle; and whether going or coming, the crowd was always dense, although a daily occurrence, but Donald made his way, and kept it clear too, and the roughs knew better than to attempt to annoy him. Indeed, he has been known to single out an individual who did so, and give chase after him through the crowd. There was never any concern about him, as he could well defend himself. The Greys were in the Royal Barracks with the 42d, and permitted Donald to make his bed, even by tossing down their litter, fed him with oats daily, &c. But early in 1839 the Greys left, and the Bays succeeded them. It was very soon evident that Donald and the new comers did not understand each other. The Bays would not allow him to make his bed, nor did they give oats, and Donald declared war against all Bays, when and wherever they came near him, till at last a Bay man could hardly venture to cross the Royal square, without looking out that Donald was out of the way. It gave rise to a clever sketch made on the wall of the officers’ room at the Bank guard of the “Stag at Bay,” where Donald was represented as having one of them up against a wall. In May 1839, he made nine days’ march to Limerick, although very footsore and out of temper, and woe to the ostlers in the hotel-yard who interfered with him after a day’s march. Donald had another failing, which his countrymen are accused of, which was a great liking for whisky or sherry. He suffered after a debauch, and it was forbidden to indulge Donald in his liking in that way. At Limerick, as soon as the officers’ dinner pipe went, he made his way to the mess-room windows, which were on the ground floor, to look for sherry, until a high fine had to be made on any one who gave it to him. Donald afterwards marched to Templemore, and finally to Cork. He had by this time become so formidable in his temper, particularly to strangers, that it was clear he could not be taken on board a ship to Corfu, even if the captain of the troopship would permit it; and, to the regret of all, it was decided that Donald must be transferred to strangers. Colonel Johnstone arranged with Lord Bandon, who promised that Donald should have the run of his fine park at Bandon Castle while he lived, and it was Donald’s own fault that it was not so. It was really an effecting sight to see poor Donald thrown over and tied with ropes by those he loved so well, and put into a cart to be carried off. His cries were pitiful, and he actually shed tears, and so did some of his friends, for Donald was a universal favourite. Thus the regiment parted with dear old Donald, and nothing more was heard of him for many years.
In 1862, nearly 22 years afterwards, Lieutenant-Colonel Wheatley being appointed to the Cork district, soon after arriving at Cork, took steps to ascertain the subsequent history of Donald. The reply was, “That from the day he was set at liberty in the park, he declined having any intercourse with either man or beast. That summer and winter he kept in out-of-the-way places to which no one could approach; and that there had been so many complaints against him, that about the end of two years his lordship reluctantly sanctioned his being shot.” Poor Donald! the regiment and its ways was the only home he ever knew, and his happiness left him when separated from it. So has it been with many others besides Donald.
The “Grenadier’s Cat” was picked up by the company in one of the encampments in Bulgaria, probably in Gevrecklar, and was embarked at Varna for the Crimea. Having seen it at the bivouac at Lake Touzla, Lieutenant-Colonel Wheatley was induced, after the action at Alma had commenced, to ask what had become of poor puss, when one of No. 1 company called, “It is here, sir,” and opening his haversack, the animal looked out quite contented. It was shut up again, and on making inquiry next morning, it was found that “Bell” had escaped both death and wounds, and was amongst them in the bivouac, well taken care of in so far as having an ample share of the rations. It appears that the man who carried the cat and took care of it, was exempted by the company from fatigue duties, or his turn of carrying the cooking-kettles, &c. Like all the pets, it did not come to a peaceful end. It finally became an inmate of the regimental hospital, being the only quiet place to be found for it, got worried, and died at Balaclava. Such was the end of Bulgarian “Bell,” the only instance, probably, of a cat going into action.
On 2d April 1872 took place one of the most interesting events in connection with the history of the Black Watch, viz., the unveiling in Dunkeld Cathedral of a magnificent monument (a [plate of which we give]) to the memory of the officers, non-commissioned officers, and men of the regiment, who fell in war from the creation of the regiment to the close of the Indian mutiny. The monument, which had been in preparation for several years, was subscribed for by the officers of the regiment, and was executed by Mr John Steell, R.S.A., the celebrated Scottish sculptor. It is placed in the vestibule of the cathedral, at the east end of the choir, and is the largest and one of the finest mural monuments ever erected in Scotland.