[E] The Rev. Mr Clerk's Memoir of Colonel Cameron of Fassifern, p. 109.
[F] Mr Cameron of Lochiel, and Mr Cameron of Earrachd (Alan's father), had been, or were, at differences about the ownership of part of the property, when it was alleged that the latter was hardly used in the matter, by the former and his trustees, of whom Cameron of Fassifern was the most active. This misunderstanding led to a coolness between the families.
[G] It was returned to the Lord-Lieutenant by this company under the designation of "Cameron Lochiel." The captain's attention was drawn to the misnomer, who disclaimed any knowledge of the error. It has transpired since to have been the act of an officer of the corps, now deceased, who must have committed this paltry piece of piracy, either from ignorance or subserviency.
THE SONGS AND MELODIES OF THE GAEL.
The Gael, their language, their songs, and their melodies, will live or die together. If the one sinks they shall all sink. If the one rises they shall all rise. If the one dies they shall die together, and shall all be buried in the same grave. Is it possible that a people, with such a language, such songs, and such delicious melodies, shall vanish and disappear from the earth, and their place become occupied by others? It cannot happen, and I candidly assert for myself that, were the whole of the Breadalbane Estate mine, I would willingly part with it for the sake of being able to master the songs and the melodies of my Highland countrymen. I have reason to be thankful for the circumstances in which I was placed in the days of my youth. I had eight brothers and a sister. My father had a fine ear for music, and an excellent voice, and frequently gratified our young ears, during the long winter evenings, by playing on the Jew's harp and singing the words connected with the different Highland airs. There was also a man in our immediate neighbourhood who was frequently in the house, who played on the violin, and who was one of the best players of our native airs I ever listened to. The consequence was that as I grew up I was very fond of singing, and to this moment of my life I do not think that it had any bad effect upon me; and certainly my fondness for Gaelic songs was the first thing that led me to read the Gaelic language. From fifteen to the age of twenty I herded my father's sheep among the Grampians. The following is a true description of my state then:—
| 'Nuair bha e 'na bhalach Gu sunndach, 's lan aighear, 'S mac-talla 'ga aithris A cantuinn nan oran, Toirt air na cruaidh chreagan, Le 'n teangannan sgeigeil, Gu fileant 'ga fhreagradh, Gu ceileireach ceolmhor. | A laddie so merry 'Mong green grass and heather, The voice of the echo Rehearsing his story: The mountains so rocky To mimic and mock him, Becoming all vocal Like songsters so joyful. |
About the age of twenty a change came over me, when I forsook the songs, but not their melodies, and had recourse to Buchanan's, M'Gregor's, and Grant's hymns as a source of gratification. I was, in a measure, prepared to enjoy them, as I found several of the melodies I used to sing, in the hymns. M'Gregor was my great favourite. He was every inch a man, a Gael, a scholar, a poet, a Christian, and a great divine. I regret that his hymns are not more extensively known. Forty-two years ago I composed several hymns—six or seven years afterwards a few more—but during the last ten years, I suppose, nearly fifty. I have done as much as I could to regenerate the songs of my country. My predecessors carefully avoided cheerful and lively airs, especially those with a chorus, but I find these generally, when the subject is applicable to them, the most powerful and the most appropriate for use in connection with the preaching of the gospel. Last summer I sang one of them in a Free Church, on a Sabbath evening, to the Gaelic part of the congregation. As I was descending from the pulpit, the Gaelic precentor, and a deacon, whispered in my ears, "Tha i sin fad air thoiseach air laoidhean Shanci." (That is far before Sankey's hymns.)
So far as I know, singing Gaelic songs has had no evil effect upon our countrymen. Indeed, singing is one of the prettiest, and one of the most harmless things connected with human nature, even in its degenerate state. A man who can sing a Gaelic song well is properly considered a favourite. It is felt that he spreads kindness, and infuses joy and happiness in the social circle—the language and the sweet melody of the piece will banish all melancholy and bitter feelings from the mind. A man influenced by a wicked malicious disposition is certainly not disposed to sing. The practice they have of fulling or shrinking cloth in the West Highlands has had a great tendency to keep up the native melodies. Five, six, or seven females are seated in a circle facing one another. The cloth having been steeped, is folded in a circle. Each holds it in both hands, while they raise it as high as the breast, and then bring it down with a thump on the board. In this way it goes gradually round from the one to the other. A person standing outside would only hear one thump. The chosen leader commences the song, all unite, and by raising and lowering their hands they beat time to the tune. This generally attracts a crowd of listeners. I have seldom listened to finer singing.