The Aberdonians were canny people then as now, but it is wonderful how their spelling degenerated in the course of one sentence.
Perth had a piper as late as 1831. The piper of the Fair City was in the habit of playing through the streets at five o’clock in the morning and at seven at night. The death of the then town piper about the beginning of the century was much regretted, “the music having an effect in the morning inexpressibly soothing and delightful.” The custom of early and late piping was also retained for a long time in Keith.
Old Geordie Syme, the town piper of Dalkeith, was a famous piper in his day. The exact period when he flourished cannot now be ascertained, and little is known of him, even in tradition. The piper of Dalkeith was a retainer of the house of Buccleuch, and there was a small salary attached to the office, for which in Geordie’s time he had to attend the family on all particular occasions and make the round of the town twice daily—at five a.m. and eight p.m. Besides his salary, he had a suit of clothes allowed him regularly. This consisted of a long yellow coat lined with red, red plush breeches, white stockings, and buckles in his shoes. Geordie was much taken notice of by the gentry of his time. It is not known when he died. His successor in office was Jamie Reid, who lived long to enjoy the emoluments of the position and about whom there are some interesting local traditions. Jamie was succeeded by Robert Lorimer, and at his death his son was installed in his office, which he held as late as 1837, probably much later. The practice of playing through the town was discontinued about 1821, the custom being considered by the inhabitants a useless relic of bygone days. A long sarcastic poem, printed and circulated about that time, is believed to have helped greatly to finally abolish the practice.
Dundee got a burgh piper after the Reformation, and his mission was to call the people to their work in the mornings. “Dressed in the town’s livery and colours, he played through the burgh every day in the morning at four hours and every nicht at aucht hours, a service for which every householder was bound to pay him twelve pennies yearly.”
Pipers were, and perhaps are, a dignified race, but few of them were so boastful as the piper of Peebles, who, tradition says, tried to blow his pipes from Peebles to Lauder, a distance of eighteen miles, in a certain number of blasts. He failed in the attempt, but succeeded in blowing himself out of breath. The spot where he fell down dead is on the boundary of the parish of Heriot, in Midlothian, and is still called “The Piper’s Grave.” This cannot, however, have been the Peebles piper who was written of in 1793 by William Anderson of Kirriemuir in a long poem which appeared in Provincial Poets. After describing in the quaint way of eighteenth century writers, the country life of these days,
“Fan wives wi’ rocks an’ spindles span,
An’ brawest lasses us’d nae lawn—
Fan stiffen wasna sought, nor blue
To mutches—fan the sarks were few,
Some had but ane, some had twa,