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Conspicuous among the portraits of soldiers, heroes and navigators which adorn the walls of the different rooms of the Château, is one, a full size painting of an old Highland Chief, a veritable Rhoderick Dhu, in Scotch bonnet and dirk, who, with the call of his clan, and the pipes playing the airs of his native glen, led the charge of Bunker Hill.
The launchers, like brave old Taylor, would not stay beaten, and demanded another trial; they offered to oppose any thing, from the Captain's gig, down to the dingui they even wanted to challenge the boats of the whole squadron, and old A., the coxswain, in the true spirit of Rhoderick Dhu, exclaimed, "Come one, come all," but the regatta was put a stop to, by orders to get out of the Typa, and the men commenced "mud-larking," as they termed it.
This proclamation was flashed over the wires throughout the Northern States, like the fiery cross of Rhoderick Dhu, which summoned his clansmen to their rendezvous, and it was everywhere received with the beating of drums and the ringing notes of the bugle, calling the defenders of the capital to their colors. Every city and hamlet had its flag-raising, while its enthusiasm was unbounded.
As the tall ship whose lofty prore Shall never stem the billows more Deserted by her gallant band, Amid the breakers lies astrand Soon his couch lay Rhoderick Dhu, And oft his fevered limbs he threw In toss abrupt, as when her sides Lie rocking in the advancing tides, That shake her frame with ceaseless beat, Yet can not heave her from her seat; O, how unlike her course on sea!
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