Professor Aytoun in these cynically humorous lines, from the “Bon Gaultier Ballads,” would have us believe that the piper was more important in times of war than the actual fighting man. He was important, no doubt, but hardly in the proportion of thirty-five to twenty-four. The Duke of Cumberland, a man whom Highlanders, and more especially those with Jacobite leanings, do not hold in very high reverence, was making ready to meet Prince Charlie at Culloden, and when he saw the pipers of the clans who supported him preparing their musical instruments, he asked somewhat testily, “What are these men to do with such bundles of sticks. I can get far better implements of war than these.” “Your Royal Highness,” said an aide-de-camp, “cannot get them better weapons. They are the bagpipes, the Highlanders’ music in peace and war. Without these all other instruments are of no avail, and the Highland soldiers need not advance another step, for they will be of no service.” Then Cumberland, who was too good a tactician to underrate the value of anything, allowed the pipers to take their part in the fight. It is difficult to believe, although the story is given on good authority, that he was so ignorant, but we know that a general who did not understand the music of his different regiments would nowadays be considered very deficient indeed. Officers of our day not only understand about the music, they fully appreciate its value. This is particularly true of the officers of Highland regiments who, as a rule, do all they can to foster a love for the pipes, knowing quite well that “Its martial sounds can fainting troops inspire With strength unwonted and enthusiasm fire.” The use by the Celts of the bagpipes in battle fits in beautifully with all we know of the ancient people. Their demeanour in the actual fight was always remarkable. In old times they did not fight as they do now, with weapons deadly at long distances from the enemy, and to use which in a uniform style they are disciplined. Each warrior fought for his own hand, with his own claymore, subject, after the fight began, to no system of rules. Before the battle a strange nervous excitement, called by ancient writers, _crithgaisge_, or “quiverings of valour,” came over him. This was followed by an overpowering feeling of exhilaration and delight, called _mir-cath_, or “the joyous frenzy of battle.” It was not a thirst for blood, but an absorbing idea that both his own life and fame and his country’s good depended on his efforts, and a determination to do all that could be done by a resolute will and undaunted spirit. The _mir-cath_ has been seen in a modified form on several occasions in modern warfare, but only when the Highland soldier has a chance of charging with the bayonet. Then that shout which precedes an onset no foe can withstand is heard, and the Highlanders forget themselves and rush forward like an irresistible torrent.