It is also a fact, although I understand English as well as Gaelic, that it has not the same effect upon me in singing it. Although the English were sung with the greatest art, and in the best possible style, it would neither warm our hearts nor melt our souls like singing in Gaelic. I feel that the great "mistress of art" has a tendency to puff me up, whereas I have no such feelings in my Gaelic. Perhaps one-third of the songs of the Gael are love songs, and the delicacy of feeling which is manifest in most of them is extraordinary. They will not offend the most refined ear; so that we have reason to be proud of our race in that respect. Our songs may be divided into two classes--the cheerful and plaintive. In the former we have M'Lachlan's "_Air fatll-ir-inn, ill-ir-inn, uill-er-inn o_." M'Intyre's song to his spouse, "_Mhairi bhan og_," and "_Ho mo Mhairi Laghach_"--translated by Professor Blackie in the first number of the _Celtic_. These are instances of lyric poetry as beautiful as ever saw the light, and melodies as sweet as can be listened to. In the other may be placed "_Fhir a bhata 's na ho ro eile_," which was lately sung in Inveraray Castle in the presence of Her Majesty. Another is:-- A Mhalaidh bhoidheach, A Mhalaidh ghaolach, A Mhalaidh bhoidheach, Gur mor mo ghaol duit, A Mhalaidh bhoidheach, 'S tu leon 's a chlaoidh mi, 'S a dh'fhag mi bronach Gun doigh air d'fhaotainn. What a delicious piece! how full of sweet melody! Can the English language produce its equal? Poor fellow, he was sincere. The deer would be seen on wings in the air, fish on tops of mountains high, and _black_ snow resting on the tree branches, before his love to her would undergo any change. Perhaps one-fourth of our songs are Elegies to the departed; and the melodies to which these are sung are as plaintive and melting as can be listened to. I place at the head of this class the "Massacre of Glencoe," and Maclachlan's Elegy, to the same air, in memory of Professor Beattie of Aberdeen. I said in my "Address to Highlanders" that the Fort-William people might, on the top of Ben Nevis, defy the English and broad Scotch to produce its equal:-- Ghaoil, a ghaoil, de na fearaibh, 'S fuar an nochd air an darach do chrè, 'S fuar an nochd air a bhord thu, Fhiuran uasail bu stold ann a'd bheus, 'N cridhe firinneach soilleir, D'am bu spideal duais foille na sannt, Nochd gun phlosg air an deile Sin mo dhosguinn nach breugach mo rann. It is utterly impossible to give a proper expression of that piece in any other language. Lachlan M'Lean, already referred to, composed an elegy, to a daughter of the Laird of Coll, who died in London and was buried there, to the same air:--