“I have not read in my Bible,” said Campbell, “of the name of M’Lean going into Noah’s Ark.”
“Noah’s Ark!” snorted the M’Lean; “who ever heard of a M’Lean that had not a boat of his own?”
There was a fine exhibition of clan pride afforded during the years the late Earl of Airlie acted as Lord High Commissioner to the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland. Amongst his attendants at Holyrood were two pipers, who, at every dinner given to the clergy and other guests at the Palace, marched several times round the large dining-hall playing the wild and inspiriting music of the Highlands. One evening the Moderator of the Assembly, at some one’s request, asked his Grace whether he had any objections to instruct the pipers to play “The Bonnie House o’ Airlie.”
“None whatever,” replied the Earl, “but I doubt whether we shall get it, for the one piper is an Ogilvie and the other is a Campbell; but we shall see.”
Calling the butler, he gave orders that when the pipers next came in they should play “The Bonnie House o’ Airlie.”
The butler went at once with the message. By and by the pipes were heard approaching, and in a little, one piper, the Ogilvie, marched in, playing the desired tune with great dignity and vigour.
“I expected this,” said the Earl in a jocular way to the Moderator.
Summoning the butler again, he asked whether his message had been delivered.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then why has Campbell not come in with Ogilvie?”