ast him the voyage.

"Have you no cow on board?" asked Flora, rather anxiously, for little
Josey and her comfort was always uppermost in her mind.

"Cow! Who the devil would be bothered with a cow," said Boreas, "when he
can procure a substitute like this. Here's my dun cow; she'll give us
what we want without the trouble of milking. Won't she, Sam?" appealing
to his steward, to second his assertion.

"Yes, Sir," and Sam grinned applause. "But I'm jist thinkin', Captain,
that the weather's o'er hot, an' the dun cow may gang drie afore we see
Canada."

The captain's cow turned out a very sorry animal, for in less than two
days the milk was so putrid, that it had to be thrown overboard, and his
cabin-passengers were forced to drink the vile coffee, and still viler
tea, without milk, during the rest of the voyage, with only coarse brown
sugar to soften its disagreeable flavour.

It must be confessed, that the cabin bill of fare presented no tempting
variety. After the first week the fresh mutton and beef was changed to
salt pork and hard junk, ship biscuit and peas, and potatoes of the last
year's growth, rancid butter, and oatmeal porridge, with porter and
brown sugar for sauce; and sometimes--but this was a very great
dainty--a slice of Dunlop cheese. Nothing but hunger, and constant
exercise upon the deck in the open air, reconciled Mrs. Lyndsay to this
coarse diet. It was not what they had been promised; but complaints were
useless. There certainly was no danger of hurting their health by over
indulgence, as it was with difficulty they could satisfy their hunger
with the unpalatable fare, which was old, and not even good of its kind.

The Lyndsays were always glad when the homely meal was over, and they
could escape once more to the deck, and enjoy the fine coast views, and
the fresh invigorating sea breeze.

CHAPTER III.

THE LAST GLANCE OF SCOTLAND.

The weather for the next three days continued as fine as summer weather
could be. With wind and tide in her favour, the _Anne_ made a splendid
run through the Moray Firth, passed the auld town of Aberdeen, and
before sunset sailed close under the dreary Caithness coast.

Flora examined John o' Groat's house with some interest, and for the
first time in her life discovered that the fantastic red rock which
bears that name, was not a _bona fide_ dwelling, which up to that moment
she had imagined it to be.

A prospect more barren and desolate than that