The Arkansas Banner

Anecdote of Scotchmen and Scotch Music.

The following instance shows that Scotch music will make a Scotchman do anything when out of his own country:

A gentleman, who was a first-rate performer of Scotch music on the violin, spent a winter in Exeter, and of course soon became acquainted with the musical dilettanti of the place. Dining one day with a professor, the conversation turned upon Scotch music; and a strong argument arose as to its bearing competition with foreign music. The Scotchman, whom we shall, for the present, designate the Fiddler, insisting that, when properly performed, nothing could excel it; the professor, on the other hand, insisting that it was only fit for a barn-yard.

"I'll tell you what," says the Fiddler, "I'll lay you a wager of £5, that, if a party of Scotchmen can be got together, I'll make them shed tears one minute, sing the next, and dance the third."

"Done?" said the Professor; "and if your music is capable of that, I will not only pay you the £5 with pleasure, but will be convinced that it is the most enlivening, pathetic, and bewitching music in the world."

The difficulty arose as to getting an opportunity for a trial. But this was soon obviated by a third party informing them that a party of young Scotchmen dined annually at the Old London Hotel, on the anniversary of Burns' birthday. This was a capital opportunity for the Fiddler; for these young men, being principally raw-boned, overgrown lads who had recently left their own country to carry tea in the neighborhood, were the very ones upon whom he was sure to make a hit.

All being now arranged, and the utmost secrecy agreed upon, the eventful day was anxiously looked for. At length it came; and the Fiddler and Professor, by an introduction to one of the party, got an invitation to the dinner. There were twelve altogether sat down; and a right merry party they were. The Fiddler was not long in perceiving that he had got among a right musical set, and he waited patiently till they were fit for anything. At length he gave a wink to the Professor, who at once proposed that his friend should favor them with a Scotch tune on the violin.

"Capital! capital!" cried the whole party.

The violin was brought, and all were in breathless anxiety. The Fiddler chose, for his first tune, "Here's a health to them that's awa," and played it in the most solemn and pathetic manner.

"That's a waefu' tune," said a great big, raw-boned youth to his next neighbor.

"It is that, Sandy. There's mickle in that tune, man. It reminds me o' ane that's gane;" Jamie at the same time giving a deep sigh, and drawing his hand over his long, gaunt face, to hide the tears which were trickling down his cheeks.

The Fiddler with his keen eye soon perceived that before he got through with the second part of the tune, he would have them all in the same mood. He, therefore, threw his whole soul into the instrument, played the tune as he had never done before: and as the last four bars of the tune died away like a distant echo, there was not a dry cheek amongst the company. Now is the time, thought the Fiddler; and, without stopping a moment, struck up in a bold, vigorous style, "Willie Brew'd a Peck o' Maut."

"Chorus!" cried the Fiddler; and in an instant all struck up—

"For we are nae fou, we're nae that fou',
But just a drappie in our e'e,
The cock may craw, the day may daw,
But aye we'll taste the barley bree!"

The song ended, up struck the Fiddler in his best style, the reel of "Jenny's ba' the weaver."

"Hey, ye devils!" cried Sandy.

"Scotland forever!" cried Jamie; and in an instant, tables, chairs, and glasses were scattered in all directions, and the whole party dancing and jumping about like madmen.

Out ran the affrighted Professor, (for he did not know what would come next,) up came the landlady with her terrified train of inmates. But none dared enter the room, the hurrahs and thumps on the floor being so boisterous; and it was only upon the entry of a Scotch traveler, who had just arrived, and who cried to the Fiddler for any sake to stop, that order was restored.

It is needless to say that the Professor paid his bet cheerfully, and was fully convinced of the effect of Scotch music when properly played, and that the lady took care that the Fiddler never came into her house again on Burns' anniversary dinner.