lecture-hall, this time in company with my brothers.

'Oh,' said Donald, as we were returning home, 'that is the sort of work we
want.'

'Yes,' cried Dugald the younger; 'and that is the land to go to.'

'You are so young--sixteen and fifteen--I fear I cannot take you with me,'
I put in.

Donald stopped short in the street and looked straight in my face.

'So _you_ mean to go, then? And you think you can go without Dugald and
me? Young, are we? But won't we grow out of that? We are not town-bred
brats. Feel my arm; look at brother's lusty legs! And haven't we both got
hearts--the M'Crimman heart? Ho, ho, Murdoch! big as you are, you don't go
without Dugald and me!'

'That he sha'n't!' said Dugald, determinedly.

'Come on up to the top of the craig,' I said; 'I want a walk. It is only
half-past nine.'

But it was well-nigh eleven before we three brothers had finished
castle-building.

Remember, it was not castles in the air, either, we were piling up. We had
health, strength, and determination, with a good share of honest ambition;
and with these we believed we could gather wealth. The very thoughts of
doing so filled me with a joy that was inexpressible. Not that I valued
money for itself, but because wealth, if I could but gain it, would enable
me to in some measure restore the fortunes of our fallen house.

We first consulted father. It was not difficult to secure his acquiescence
to our scheme, and he even told mother that it was unnatural to expect
birds to remain always in the parent nest.

I have no space to detail all the outs and ins of our arguments; suffice
it to say they were successful, and preparations for our emigration were
soon commenced. One stipulation of dear mother's we were obliged to give
in to--namely, that Aunt Cecilia should go with us. Aunt was very wise,
though very romantic withal--a strange mixture of poetry and common-sense.
My father and mother, however, had very great faith in her. Moreover, she
had already travelled all by herself half-way over the world. She had
therefore the benefit of former experiences. But in every way we were fain
to admit that aunt was eminently calculated to be our friend and mentor.
She was and is clever. She could talk philosophy to us, even while darning
our stockings or seeing after our linen; she could talk half a dozen
languages, but she could talk common-sense to the cook as well; she was
fitted to mix in the very best society, but she could a