d
like wild-fire, in fact. Something had gone wrong in the engine-room, and
it would take a whole week to make good repairs.

I went below to report matters to aunt and my brothers, and make
preparations for disembarking again.

When we reached the deck we found the big Scot walking up and down with
rapid, sturdy strides; but he stopped in front of me, smiling. He had an
immense plaid thrown Highland-fashion across his chest and left shoulder,
and clutched a huge piece of timber in his hand, which by courtesy might
have been called a cane.

'You'll doubtless go on shore for a spell?' he said. 'A vera judicious
arrangement. I'll go myself, and take my mither with me. And are these
your two brotheries, and your sister? How d'ye do, miss?'

He lifted his huge tam-o'-shanter as he made these remarks--or, in other
words, he seized it by the top and raised it into the form of a huge
pyramid.

'My aunt,' I said, smiling.

'A thousand pa_rr_dons, ma'am!' he pleaded, once more making a pyramid of
his 'bonnet,' while the colour mounted to his brow. 'A thousand
pa_rr_dons!'

Like most of his countrymen, he spoke broader when taken off his guard or
when excited. At such times the _r_'s were thundered or rolled out.

Aunt Cecilia smiled most graciously, and I feel sure she did not object to
be mistaken for our sister.

'It seems,' he added, 'we are to be fellow-passengers. My name is
Moncrieff, and if ever I can be of the slightest service to you, pray
command me.'

'You mentioned your mother,' said aunt, by way of saying something. 'Is
the old--I mean, is she going with you?'

'What else, what else? And you wouldn't be wrong in calling her "old"
either. My mither's no' a spring chicken, but--she's a marvel. Ay,
mither's a marvel.'

'I presume, sir, you've been out before?'

'I've lived for many years in the Silver West. I've made a bit of money,
but I couldn't live a year longer without my mither, so I just came
straight home to take her out. I think when you know my mither you'll
agree with me--she's a marvel.'

On pausing here for a minute to review a few of the events of my past
life, I cannot agree with those pessimists who tell us we are the victims
of chance; that our fates and our fortunes have nothing more certain to
guide them to a good or a bad end than yonder thistle-down which is the
sport of the summer breeze.

When I went on board the good ship Canton, had any one told me that in a
few days more I