If ye're fond of a guide Scotch burr, gang doon tae the Fine Arts and see the new Harry Lauder picture. It's full of highland accents and angular-Scottish faces that smack of the stories of Sir Walter Scott, set against the background of the lochs and the mountains. Harry Lauder is now a very old man but he can still put across a song and play the comic. The ballads he sings are dear to all the hieland lads and lassies who have come over to this country, and most of Boston's Scotch are down at the theatre tapping their feet and singing with him. All this makes for a very informal evening.

The story is a simple vehicle for the songs which are the reason for the picture. Harry Lauder is a traveling minstrel with a small band of friends. Misfortunes befall the little troupe as they play their way through the country. But these are incidental to the real part of the movie which comes when Harry Lauder dons his kilts and grabs his crooked came to give a song. The chances are that you won't be able to catch all he sings, but you'll get the point through his sly winks and infectious laughs. The songs are quaint, the comedy refreshing, and everything is very different from the ordinary picture. If you are tired of bed-room comedies and blood and thunder histories, you'll find that the "Song of the Road" is a gratifying change.