and letters of thanks and tokens of gratitude from the royal hands were heirlooms of the houses. It was a keen pleasure to the grandfather in his old age to hear the songs and the music which had illumined the unhappy cause, and it is no wonder that the earliest inspiration of the young poetess was from such themes, and her keenest reward to see the blood warming more freely the old man's worn cheeks as she sang the new and stirring words to the old airs, and found the token of her success in his appreciation. The greater portion of her Jacobite songs were composed under this inspiration, and so long as she wrote at all they were her favorite themes. They are among the finest in what may be termed the modern Jacobite songs, unsurpassed by anything of the kind by Burns, Hogg, or Cunningham, and only so by that consummate flower of all Scotch Jacobite poetry by William Glen:-- A wee bird cam' to our ha' door, while in the pure singing quality, the lilt and the verse, there is nothing to exceed the power of-- The news from Moidart cam' yestreen. The story of The Hundred Pipers an' A' is historically correct in that there were so many musicians of the class attached to the little army of the Prince, and that the Highland lads did dance themselves dry to the pibroch's sound after fording the Esk, but it was not on the advance to Carlisle, but on the retreat from England, and the scene had doubtless been often described by the old laird of Strowan. THE HUNDRED PIPERS. Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a', Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a'; We 'll up an' gie them a blaw, a blaw, Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a', Oh, it's owre the Border awa', awa'; It's owre the Border awa', awa'; We 'll on and we 'll march to Carlisle ha; Wi' its yetts, its castle an' a', an' a', Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', etc. Our young sodger lads looked braw, looked braw, With their tartans, kilts an' a', an' a', With their bonnets and feathers and glittering gear, An' pibrochs sounding sweet an' clear. Will they a' return to their ain dear glen? Will they a' return, our Hieland men? Second-sighted Sandy looked fu wae, An' mothers grat, when they marched away, Wi' a hundred pipers, etc. O, wha' is foremost o' a', o' a'; O, wha' does follow the blaw, the blaw, Bonnie Charlie, the King o' us a', hurra! Wi' his hundred pipers an' a', an' a'; His bonnet an' feather he's wavin' high, His prancin' steed maist seems to fly, The nor' wind plays wi' his curlin' hair, While the pipers blew up an' unco flare, Wi' a hundred pipers, etc. The Esk was swollen sae red and sae deep, But shouther to shouther the brave lads keep, Two thousand swam o'er to fell English ground, An' danced themselves dry to the pibroch's sound.