"I wish you would repeat one of them," said the old clerk.
"Here is one," said I, "which particularly struck me:-
"It is the custom of the eagle, when his young are sufficiently
old, to raise them up above his nest in the direction of the sun;
and the bird which has strength enough of eye to look right in the
direction of the sun, he keeps and nourishes, but the one which has
not, he casts down into the gulf to its destruction. So does the
Lord deal with His children in the Catholic Church Militant: those
whom He sees worthy to serve Him in godliness and spiritual
goodness He keeps with Him and nourishes, but those who are not
worthy from being addicted to earthly things, He casts out into
utter darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth."
The old gentleman, after a moment's reflection, said it was a
clever fable, but an unpleasant one. It was hard for poor birds to
be flung into a gulf, for not having power of eye sufficient to
look full in the face of the sun, and likewise hard that poor human
creatures should be lost for ever, for not doing that which they
had no power to do.
"Perhaps," said I, "the eagle does not deal with his chicks, or the
Lord with His creatures as the fable represents."
"Let us hope at any rate," said the old gentleman, "that the Lord
does not."
"Have you ever seen this book?" said he, and put Smith's "Sean
Dana" into my hand.
"Oh, yes," said I, "and have gone through it. It contains poems in
the Gaelic language by Oisin and others, collected in the
Highlands. I went through it a long time ago with great attention.
Some of the poems are wonderfully beautiful."
"They are so," said the old clerk. "I too have gone through the
book; it was presented to me a great many years ago by a lady to
whom I gave some lessons in the Welsh language. I went through it
with the assistance of a Gaelic grammar and dictionary, which she
also presented to me, and I was struck with the high tone of the
poetry."
"This collection is valuable indeed," said I; "it contains poems,
which not only possess the highest merit, but serve to confirm the
authenticity of the poems of Ossian, published by Macpherson, so
often called in question. All the pieces here attributed to Ossian
are written in the same metre, tone, and spirit, as those
attributed to him in the other collection, so if Macpherson's
Ossianic poems, which he said were collected by him in the
Highlands, are forgeries, Smith's Ossianic poems, which, according
to his account, were also collected in the Highlands, must be also
forged, and have been imitated from those published by the other.
