men scarce trusted themselves to give vent to the emotion that held them, from every corner of the vast amphitheatre came the ringing cheer on cheer that only a British crowd can give. Truly, the music spoke true. They were the conquering heroes. The well-known air could be played more worthily for none than for these. And then, as they were half-way round, opposite the dais where the Viceroy would sit, the music changed. They were nearing their seats. The few brief moments that they had held us all enthralled were passing. If any eye was still dry, the old familiar air, with its many memories, that now struck up, must have blurred its sight at last. 'For Auld Lang Syne.' One saw them moving onward through a mist. One was back with them before the gates of Delhi out there beyond along the ridge. One was with them through those terrible months in the Residency at Lucknow. All the glory and pageantry of an Emperor's coronation faded out of sight. One was back with them bearing the brunt and the heat and burden of the day, fighting a hand-to-hand fight of life and death for England. With a rush of feeling one realised that it was to them, to that small band of old and crippled men, and to the many whom they represented who had passed away, that we owed the triumph of to-day. They had come through much tribulation, but they had come to bring us this to-day. Without them, if they had not sacrificed themselves for Empire, there could have been no coronation of the King in his Imperial City.
