“It’s about three years now since I’ve been out playing the pipe. Jim and Johnny go together, and I go with Mary. Between the two we take about 5s. a-day, excepting on Saturdays. I get home by ten, and have supper and then go to bed; but Jim he sometimes doesn’t come till very late, about one in the morning. At night we generally go down to the Haymarket, and play before the public-houses. The ladies and gentlemen both give us money. We pick up more at night-time than in the day. Some of the girls then make the gentlemen give us money. They’ll say, ‘Give the little fellow a penny.’ The highest I ever had given me at one time was a Scotch lady at a hotel in Jermyn-street, and she gave me a sovereign. I’ve often had half-a-crown give me in the Haymarket. It’s always from Scotch gentlemen. English have given me a shilling, but never more; and nearly all we take is from Scotch people. Jim says the same thing, and I always found it so.
“I’ve had a whole mob round me listening. Some of them will ask for this tune, and some for that. I play all Scotch tunes. ‘The Campbells are coming’ is the chief air they like. Some ask for the ‘Loch Harbour no more.’ That’s a sentimental air. ‘The Highland Fling,’ that is very popular; ‘Money Musk,’ and the ‘Miss Drummond of Perth’ is another they like very much. Another great favourite is ‘Maggie Lauder.’ That’s a song. When I play in a gentleman’s room I don’t put the drone on, but only play on the chanter, or what you would call the flute part of it. I cut off the drone, by putting the finger in the tall pipe that stands up against the shoulder, which we call the drone pipe. The wind goes up there; and if you stop it up, it don’t sound. A bagpipes has got five pipes—the chanter, the drone pipe, the two tenor pipes, and the blow-stick, through which you send the wind into the bag, which is of sheep-skin, covered with green baize. Every set of pipes is all alike. That’s the true Highland pipe. When I’m playing in the streets I put the drone on, and I can be heard miles off. I’ve very often had a horse shy at me. He won’t pass me sometimes, or if they do, they shy at me.
“I get the reeds which go inside my pipes, and which make the noise, from the Duke of Argyle’s piper. He’s a good friend to me, and very fond of me. They’re made of thin pieces of split cane, and it’s the wind going through them that makes them jar and give the music. Before I play, I have to wet them. They last me six or seven months, if I take care of them. The Duke of Argyle’s piper never grumbles when I go for new ones. When I go to him he makes me play to him, to see how I’ve got on with my music. He’s a splendid player, and plays from books. I play by ear. His pipes are of ebony, and with a silver chanter or flute-pipe. He plays every day to the Duke while he’s at dinner. My pipes are made out of cocoa-nut wood.
“I know the Duke very well. He’s very kind to his clan. He’s Campbell clan, and so am I. He never spoke to me; but he told the servants to give me dinner every time I came that way. The servants told me the Duke had promised me my dinner every time I came. When I touch my bonnet, he always nods to me. He never gave me only a shilling once, but always my dinner. That’s better for me.
“I wear the regular Highland costume, but I don’t wear the Campbell plaid, only the Stuart, because it’s cheaper. My kilt ain’t a regular one, because it’s too dear for me. In a soldier’s kilt it’s reckoned there’s thirty-two yards; mine has only got two and a half. My philibeg ought by rights to be of badgers’ skin, with a badger’s head on the top, and with tassels set in brass caps; but my philibeg is only sheep-skin. The centre is made up to look like the real one. Father makes all our clothes. He makes the jackets, and the belts even, down to the German silver buckles, with the slide and the tip. He cuts them out of sheet metal. He casts our buttons, too, in pewter. They are square ones, you see, with a Highlander on them. He makes our shoes, too, with the little buckle in front. Mother knits the stockings. They are mixed—red and blue mixed. I wear out about three a-year. She makes about twelve pairs a-year for us all. We buy our tartan and our bonnets, but make the pewter thistles at the side and the brooch which fastens the scarf on one shoulder. A suit of clothes lasts about twelve months, so that father has to make four suits a-year for us all; that is for Jim, myself, Johnny, and Mary. The shoes last, with repairing, twelve months. There’s twenty buttons on each coat. Father has always got something to do, repairing our clothes. He’s not able to go out for his leg, or else he’d go out himself; and he’d do well playing, for he’s a first-rate piper, but not so good as the Duke’s.
“We go about with our bare legs, and no drawers on. I never feel cold of my legs; only of my fingers, with playing. I never go cold in the legs. None of the Highlanders ever wear drawers; and none but the rich in Scotland wear stockings and shoes, so that their legs are altogether bare.
“When I’m marching through the streets, and playing on the pipes, I always carry my head high up in the air, and throw my legs out well. The boys will follow for miles—some of them. The children very often lose theirselves from following me such a way. Even when I haven’t my pipes with me the boys will follow me in a mob. I’ve never been ill-treated by boys, but a drunken man, often on a Saturday night, gives me a push or a knock. You see, they’ll begin dancing around me, and then a mob will collect, and that sets the police unto me; so I always play a slow tune when drunken men come up, and then they can’t dance. They’ll ask for a quick tune, and as I won’t play one, they’ll hit me or push me about. The police never interfere unless a mob collects, and then they are obliged, by their regulations, to interfere.
“I never carried a dirk, or a sword, or any thing of that. My brother used to have one in his stocking; but one day he was called up into a public house, where there was a lot of French butlers and footmen, and they would have him to play; and when he had for some time they begun to pull him about, and they broke his pipes and snapped the chanter in two; so Jim pulled out his dirk, and they got frightened. They tried to take it from him, but they couldn’t. He’s a bold fellow, and would do anything when he’s in a passion. He’d have stuck one of the French fellows if he could. When father heard of it he took the dirk away, for fear Jim should get into mischief.
“When I’ve been playing the pipes for long I get very thirsty. It’s continually blowing into the bag. I very seldom go and get any beer; only at dinner half-a-pint. I go to a pump and have a drink of water. At first it made me feel sick, blowing so much; but I very soon got used to it. It always made me feel very hungry, blowing all day long; I could eat every two or three hours. It makes your eyes very weak, from the strain on them. When I first went out with my brother, playing, I used to have to leave off every now and then and have a rest, for it made my head ache. The noise doesn’t affect the hearing, nor has it Jim: but my father’s quite deaf of the left ear, where the drones goes. I never have the drones on, only very seldom. When I have them on I can’t hear anything for a few seconds after I leave off playing.
“Sometimes, of wet nights, I go into public-houses and play. Some publicans won’t let you, for the instrument is almost too loud for a room. If there’s a Scotchman in the tap-room he’ll give me something. I do well when there’s good company. I only go there when it rains, for my usual stand of an evening is in the Haymarket.