“Just look at the size of that hole, sir,” said he. “It is far too large, sir, and while I was _birling_ with my little finger it went into the hole, sir, and when I was getting it out it caused that nasty screeching, sir.” “Oh,” replied the officer, “is that the cause of it? Then you require a new chanter.” “Yes, very badly, sir,” replied the piper. The officer, being a man of means, said, “Very well, I will give you a present of one.” This is obviously a case where the piper gulled the young officer into presenting him with a new chanter, whereas he should have been severely reprimanded for his unfitness to perform his duty. A novel accident once happened to the pipers of the Cameronians while playing in the Botanic Gardens in Glasgow. At that time they wore a Tam o’ Shanter or blue bonnet, slightly cocked to one side. The day was stormy, and the wind came in gusts. Eight of the pipers were marching jauntily along in line when a gust of wind suddenly came and blew off the eight Tam o’ Shanters, as if by word of command, starting with the pipe-major, who was on the right. The scramble for bonnets which followed can be more easily imagined than described. Piper Donald Menzies, of the Breadalbane Fencibles, was one of the resourceful kind. The men were in the habit of receiving money in place of a certain quantity of rations, and on one occasion instead of buying food in the usual way many of them bought whisky. This came to the colonel’s ears, and he at once ordered the adjutant to go round at a certain hour and report to him what the men were cooking for dinner. The order got wind and the Fencibles were on the alert. When the adjutant came to where Piper Menzies was doing his cooking he asked “What have you got here, Donald?” “Tripe, sir,” said Donald. “Tripe,” said the adjutant, “now just let me see,” and he lifted the lid off the pot. “Well, Donald,” he said, walking away and smiling, “I never saw tripe before with buttons and holes in it.” Donald had cut up a pair of white moleskin trousers and put pieces of them into the pot to make believe he was to have a dinner. Shortly after the occupation of Cairo by the British troops, the late Nubar Pasha took a prodigious fancy to the music of the Black Watch, and had the idea of having a servant taught the use of the bagpipes. Nubar despatched a French friend, who spoke English, to interview a piper on the subject. Donald replied—“Weel, he micht learn or he micht no’. But, let me tell you, it needs wind an’ mickle strength to fill the bag o’ the pipes an’ keep blawin’. Sae if yin o’ thae Egyptian chaps took the job on he’d need to be bandaged a’ ow’re like yin o’ thae old mummies, or maybe he’d burst himsel’!” This conversation was reported to Nubar, who took the remarks seriously. So he gave up the idea of having a piper attached to his household, as the use of the bagpipe was attended with the prospect of such danger to the performer.