“‘And then,’ said my gossip, ‘the pipes passed to the hand of another man,’ and my servant—seeing me about to move away—touched my arm and bade me wait, as this new player was another adept with the pipes. ‘He’s grand at it,’ said he; ‘well done, Stewart.’ He’s saying, sir, that the reason none will heed those who blame our grand leader that’s gone is that there’s men of rank among us—and of proud blood—that’ll stand up to any man at home and swear that when our fallen chief came back with his orders for the battle he complained of them sorely, but he said, ‘No better could he get,’ and when he lay down in his blanket his head was full of the trouble that was coming on him—he not being able to learn what he needed to know against the morrow. “There was more of this recital of what the pipes had spoken to the regiment, but it would only be irritating a sore to repeat it. The pipers spoke even more plainly as the bold outpourings of one incited bolder from another. At last there were suggestions, by pipes grown mutinous, of sentiments which, happily, have seldom been spread within the British Army. But what I have told suffices to illustrate my sole point, which is that the gift of eloquent speech in chords and trills is born with the master-pipers. “I never saw my officer-friend again for more than a nod or a word in passing. But on one day the pipes next door rang jubilantly, and man after man applied himself to them with ginger in his touch. Each blew triumphant, thrilling, heart-stirring chords, and every piper swaggered at his work with such a will as to send his aproned kilt to and fro with what seemed a double swing to each beat of the time. “I said to myself, ‘They have learned that Hector Mac Donald is coming to be their new brigadier, and the pipes are assuring them that every Highlander may be himself again, certain of victory and new glory under a leader second only to the one they have lost.’ I still believe my conjecture was right. “And I know from living next door, as it were, that the cloud of gloom that had hung over the brigade was dispelled almost with the suddenness of its horrid appearance. “After that the kilties began to make in this war a continuation of their glorious record in so many lesser wars in the time that was.” All of which is very fine writing, but one cannot get rid of the idea that Mr. Ralph was the victim of an elaborate joke. The speaking theory was new to him and he accepted it in all its amplitude. There is no report of what his officer-friend said when he read Mr. Ralph’s article— if he ever did read it.