“The Powers” were not always so unselfishly inclined as the stories already given make them appear. They often drove a Faust-like bargain with the piper. They did with Peter Waters, a Caithness lad, who, when driving home his cattle one day over the common in the parish of Olrig, stopped to quench his thirst at a spring which flowed from the side of a well-known fairies’ hillock called Sysa. Peter was tired, the spot was quiet, and the air invited him to slumber. So he slept till near sunset, when he was awakened by a gentle shake of the shoulder. Starting up, he saw a most beautiful lady, dressed in green, with golden ringlets, blue eyes, and the sweetest countenance in the world, standing beside him. Peter was shy, and his first impulse was to run away, but the lady looked at him and he couldn’t.
“Don’t be afraid of me, Peter,” she said, with one of her most captivating smiles, and with a voice soft and clear as a silver bell. “I feel a great interest in you, and I am come to make a man of you.”
“I am much obliged to you, indeed,” stammered Peter. “The greatest nobleman in the land might be proud of your fair hand, but I have no desire to enter into the silken cord; and, besides, I would require to be better acquainted with you before I took such a step. People commonly court a little before they marry.”
The lady laughed.
“You mistake me altogether,” said she. “Though you appear a very nice young man, I make no offer of my hand. What I mean is that I will put you in the way of rising in the world and making your fortune. Here are two things—a Book and a pipe. Make your choice of the one or the other. If you take the Book you will become the most popular preacher in the north, and if you take the pipe you will be the best piper in Scotland. I shall give you five minutes to consider,” and she took from her bosom a golden time-piece about the size of a sovereign.
The book was a splendidly bound Bible, richly embossed with gold, and with a golden clasp; the pipe a beautiful instrument, with a green silk bag of gold and silver tissue, and superbly finished with a number of silver keys. Peter gazed in admiration on the articles, and was greatly puzzled. It would be a grand thing, he thought, to be a popular preacher, to have a manse and glebe, and be fit company for the laird and his lady. But he was an enthusiast for music, and he should like above all things to be able to play the bagpipe. So he said—
“Since you are so kind, I think I will choose the pipe; but as I have never fingered a chanter in my life, I fear it will be a long time before I learn to play such a difficult instrument.”
“No fear of that,” said the lady. “Blow up, and you’ll find that the pipe of its own accord will discourse the most eloquent music.”
Peter did as he was desired, and lo! he played “Maggie Lauder” in splendid style—so splendidly that the cattle near by began capering about in the most extraordinary manner.
“This is perfectly wonderful,” he said. “There must surely be some glamour about this instrument.”