ON A SCOTTISH BATTLEFIELD
Patriotism is more than name-deep. In the early summer a tourist party at a Stirling hotel included an obvious German who had a few months previously gone the whole hog in the matter of naturalization.
He had called himself—say—Hector McKiltie. The party strolled out to the field of Bannockburn. Standing beneath the flagstaff, “McKiltie’s” eyes beamed through his spectacles for a minute. And then came the patriotic outburst:
“Mein gracious,” he exclaimed, “so dis vas vere ve beat der Inglish!”