THE WEE SCOTCH PIPER
It was a cloudless day in the big Scotch city. The people seemed to
feel that something unusual was about to happen. Everyone wore his
best, and the city fairly shone with the reds and blues and greens of
tartan kilts and bonnets.
Soldiers paraded the streets. Children hurried along by their parents'
sides, anxious to arrive at the big grand stand in time. Numerous
bystanders flanked the wide street.
All the people were breathless with excitement. Even the usual
crowding traffic suspended its pushing and shrill tooting. For this
was a great day in Scotland. Many celebrations occur at intervals in
this land of excursions and picnics. But to-day was as the children
would say, "extra special."
The huge grand stand was overcrowded with eager Scotchmen, with their
wives and bairns. They all strained their eyes for a glimpse of the
great "kiltie band," which was to march down the street.
Among those who watched, and perhaps the most eager of all, were a
family of country folk. In bobbing black bonnet sat a calm-faced old
lady. Beside her was a rugged old man. Both were in their best array.
Both were longing for the sight they had come miles from their little
farm to see.
[Illustration: THE WEE SCOTCH PIPER]
The couple were none other than Alan Craig and his wife. The sight that
their old eyes would soon see, as the happy tears dimmed their view,
would be their son, their Ian. He was now a tall, manly piper in kilted
uniform, marching and piping with the flower of Scotland's army.
By their side sat another. His kindly face shone with pride, and in his
heart was a singing joy.
For Sandy MacGregor had taught this lad to play. It was the same old
pipes of Sandy MacGregor that he still used. He would soon show those
pipes to a cheering crowd as his fingers flew over the chanter. While
he played, his arm would shelter the tartan bellows once sheltered by
Sandy's own arm as the old piper had wandered over hill and through
dale.
Sandy MacGregor had lived many years for this moment. As he craned his
neck for a sight of the coming parade, he spoke to the little girl
beside him.
"See, Betty, 'tis they coming now."
Betty, Ian's baby sister, was now a girl of the age Ian had been when
first Sandy had met him.
Together, Betty and Sandy had dreamed and planned the day when
together they would view their piper laddie on parade.
For Sandy had dwelt in the village of Aberfoyle these many years. While
he had piped for his living, he had taught another piper, who was now
to cover his old teacher with glory.
In the large audience there was still another, whose blue eyes danced
with joy. Her hands were clasped together with excitement as she
awaited the approach of her boyhood friend. It was little Elsie
Campbell, now grown to womanhood. Elsie was among those who thrilled to
see the "wee Scotch piper," as he marched along that day.
Who knows with what feelings of pride the lad looked up as he passed
that grand stand? Who knows his feelings of love, on seeing those dear
faces smiling and nodding at him?
And as he marched and played, he seemed to see before him a little
schoolboy marching and playing. That boy was himself, trudging the
streets of a wee village, followed by a bleating lamb!
[Illustration]
End of Project Gutenberg's The Wee Scotch Piper, by Madeline Brandeis