I have Simon Fraser extremely
heavy on my stomach still."
"Ah!" she cried, "you will not be evening these two; and you should
bear in mind that Prestongrange and James More, my father, are of
the one blood."
"I never heard tell of that," said I.
"It is rather singular how little you are acquainted with," said
she. "One part may call themselves Grant, and one Macgregor, but
they are still of the same clan. They are all the sons of Alpin,
from whom, I think, our country has its name."
"What country is that?" I asked.
"My country and yours," said she
"This is my day for discovering I think," said I, "for I always
thought the name of it was Scotland."
"Scotland is the name of what you call Ireland," she replied. "But
the old ancient true name of this place that we have our foot-soles
on, and that our bones are made of, will be Alban. It was Alban
they called it when our forefathers will be fighting for it against
Rome and Alexander; and it is called so still in your own tongue
that you forget."
"Troth," said I, "and that I never learned!" For I lacked heart to
take her up about the Macedonian.
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