In 1107, Alexander I, son of Margaret of England, had a residence at Invergowrie, which, however, he did not long possess, for assassination was so much of a pastime with many and a settled custom with a few in those days, that, after having escaped the dirk only by a narrow margin, he left Invergowrie, built a church at Scone, and then turned over the property he left behind him for its support. I recall that it was at the last of our visits and entertainment at Invergowrie, which was in 1900, after the ladies had left the dinner table and the gentlemen adjourned to the billiard-room for a smoke, the conversation turned on the next European war, and the possible relations of Great Britain and the United States in the alignment of friends, foes, allies, and neutrals. One prominent Dundeean confessed himself not so much exasperated, as hurt, by President Cleveland’s sharp method of reasserting the Monroe Doctrine, in regard to the boundary of Venezuela. From our town of Ithaca, the two scholars, the ex-president of Cornell University and Professor George Burr, had been summoned to consult archives, rectify boundaries, and help keep the peace. After the American in Scotland had emptied his cruse of oil upon the waters, by explaining some of the ins and outs of American politics, the conversation drifted to regions across the North Sea--the growth of the Kaiser’s navy, the salient features of German politics, and the reports, then very direct from the Fatherland, that the “Kultur” of the twentieth century required that “England [Great Britain] needed to be taught a lesson.” The hope was warmly expressed that, in the coming clash,--then looked for to come before many years,--the sympathy, and even aid, if necessary, of “the States” would be forthcoming. With American friendliness and the possession of the coaling-stations of the world, it was believed that the United Kingdom could withstand the coming shock and recover triumphantly. More than once, at these social conferences with Scotsmen, as well as in the press, I noted the indignation, even anger, expressed, that in all national affairs it was “England” and “the English” that took and received the credit for what belonged to the four nations making up the United Kingdom. The claim was for a more liberal use of “Britain” and “British” in place of “England” and “English.” Both Scotch and Irish, to say nothing of the Welsh, resent the assumption that “England” is the British Empire. In a word, the great need of the language used in the British archipelago is a common name for the federated four countries and for all the subjects of the Crown. Here is an instance of the priceless value of right words. The absence of an acceptable comprehensive term is a real impediment to patriotism and an obstacle to perfect union. The fault is in language, not in the human spirit. The situation reinforces the argument that “words are things.”