name has become more nearly linked to Scotland because of the
story that I am going to tell you now. It belongs really to a
time much later than that of which we have been speaking, but
because it has to do with this old Gaelic poet Ossian, I think
you will like to hear it now.

In a lonely Highland village more than a hundred and fifty years
ago there lived a little boy called James Macpherson. His father
and mother were poor farmer people, and James ran about
barefooted and wild among the hills and glens. When he was about
seven years old the quiet of his Highland home was broken by the
sounds of war, for the Highland folk had risen in rebellion
against King George II., and were fighting for Prince Charlie,
hoping to have a Stewart king once more. This was the rebellion
called the '45, for it was fought in 1745.

Now little James watched the red coats of the southern soldiers
as, with bayonets gleaming in the sun, they wound through the
glens. He heard the Highland battle-cry and the clash of steel
on steel, for fighting came near his home, and his own people
joined the standard of the Pretender. Little James never forgot
these things, and long afterwards, when he grew to be a man and
wrote poetry, it was full of the sounds of battle, full, too, of
love for mountain and glen and their rolling mists.

The Macphersons were poor, but they saw that their son was
clever, and they determined that he should be well taught. So
when he left school they sent him to college, first to Aberdeen
and then to Edinburgh.