GIad my daughter married the cattleman, I would have kept her at least seven years from begging.’’ This saving got wind, and led to the discontinuance of the practice. The ‘‘ Baidse," as it was called, was collected no more. In due time, a son was born to Lady Lovat, and another great feast was held at the baptism (18th May, 1719). Lovat played one of his pranks on the occasion. The chief guests were seated at a round table, and in the course of the repast, a huge pie was produced. Macalpine was asked to cut it up. When he had opened it, out flew a pigeon, and the laaird naturally put his hand up to guard himself. Lovat cried out, Macalpine has scrogged his bonnet." Macalpine answered fiercely, " If so, a traitor shall ‘scrog’ opposite him," and he stood up and drew his sword. But nothing came of it. Lovat was too prudent a man to quarrel, and apologised. Macalpine and Lovat had another encounter at Castle Grant. They were playing cards together. Macalpine affected to be puzzled. Lovat called out, "Play, play." Macalpine, after a pause, said significantly, " Lovat, my cards would suit you better, a knave between two kings." Another time at Castle Grant, the Laird made a curious comment on the dancers. He said, "It was the drollest reel he had ever seen. First there was the man of the law, and then the man of the Lord, and next the two greatest drunkards in the counntry ‘‘ Macalpine did not like lawyers. It is said that part of his dinner grace was-—-"From lawyers and doctors, good Lord deliver us." He was very zealous in keeping up the old customs and ways. The Laird and the parson in those day lived on good terms. Rothiemurchus being joined to Duthil, it was the duty of the minister of Duthil to hold service there every third Sunday. On one occasion the parson had stayed over night, and the next day he and the Laird went out for a stroll. They were walking arm in arm, when the parson stumbled. The Laird exclaimed, in Gaelic, "God and Mary be with you." The parson was shocked, and said, "God with me and Mary with you; what better was she than my own mother ?" Macalpine quietly replied, " We shall say nothing as to the mothers, but great is the difference belween the Sons." Macalpine was a great hunter, and there are frequent references to his skill and exploits in the Gaelic songs of the period. He was very successful in the management of his extensive forests. Mr Lorimer, tutor to the Laird of Grant, says in his notes, " Rothie is his own overseer and forester. Much in that." This was written shortly after Macalpine’s death, but it marks the wise and effective system which he had established.

In " The Memoirs of a Highland Lady," Mrs Smith has the following reference to her great-grandfather :—"Macalpine ruled not only his own small patrimony, but mostly all the country round. His wisdom was great, his energy of body and mind untiring. He must have acted as a kind of despotic sovereign, for he went about with a body of four-and-twenty picked men, gaily dressed, of whom the principal and the favourite was his foster brother, Ian Bain, or John the Pair, also a Grant of the family of Achnahatnich. Any offence committed anywhere, this band took cognisance of. Macalpine himself was judge and jury, and the sentence quickly pronounced was as quickly executed, even when the verdict doomed to death. A corpse with a dagger in it was not unfrequently met with among the heather, and sometimes a stout fir branch bore the remains of a meaner victim. I never heard the justice of a sentence questioned. Macalpine was a great man in every sense of the word, tall and strong made, and very handsome, and a beau; his trews (he never wore the kilt) were laced down the sides with gold; the brogues on his beautifully-formed feet were lined and trimmed with feathers; his hands, as soft and white as a lady’s, and models as to shape, could draw blood from the finger nails of any other hand they grasped, and they were so flexible they could be bent back to form a cup which would hold a tablespoonful of water. He was an epicure, as indeed are all Highlanders in their own way. They are contented with simple fare, and they ask no great variety, but what they have must be of its kind the best, and cooked precisely to their fancy. The well of which Macalpine invariably drank was the Lady’s Well at Tullochgrue, the water of which was certainly delicious. It was brought to him twice a day in a covered wooden vessel, a cogue or lippie."

The Gaels have some curious sayings as to choosing a wife. Cormac’s advice to his son was as follows—"Na tagh Binneagag, no Grincagag, no Gaogag, no ruadh bheag, no ruadh mhòr, no ruadh mhàsach; ach Ciarag bheag air dhath na luch, na sir, ‘s na seachain i." The meaning of some of the terms is obscure, but the preference as to complexion is given to olive over red. Macalpine had a way of his own. The story as to how he chose his second wife is as suggestive as amusing. Knowing that Grant of Tullochgorm had some strapping daughters, he made a call on the old gentleman and told him what he had in view. The girls were brought in for inspection in the order of their ages. When the eldest appeared, Macalpine said, "Now, supposing you had a tocher of gold as big as Craigowrie (a hill on the opposite side of the Spey), what would you do with it?" She answered that she would get lots of dresses and jewels, and have a fine house in Edinburgh. This did not please the Laird. The second was brought in, and the third, with like unsatisfactory results. The Laird then said, "Have you not another daughter? " ‘Yes," was the reply "hut she is out with the cows." "fetch her," said Macalpine. She was brought in, and the same question put to her as to the others. She did not answer quickly, but paused a moment, with downcast eyes, as if in deep thought. Then looking up, she said sweetly, "That is too bard a question for me. I would take the advice of my husband as to what to do." Macalpine was jubilant. "That’s the lass for me," he said.

But though Macalpine got a young and pretty wife, it is said the marriage was not to the liking of his family. Lady Jean, the next Laird’s wife, was systematically unkind to the widow, and slighted her four young ones. This, with other unkind usage, bore hardly on Lady Rachel. Mrs Smith tells that "once after the service of the kirk was over she stepped up, with her fan in her hand, to the corner of the kirkyard where all our graves are made, and taking off her high-heeled slipper, she tapped with it on the stone laid over her husband’s grave, crying out, ‘Macalpine! Macalpine! rise up for ae half-hour and see me richted!" Macalpine died at the great age of 92, in 1743, and was thus saved the perils of Prince Charlie’s year and the dark days of Culloden.