e on deck, my
gentleman was marching about as bold as you please, and had the
impudence to threaten to kick one of the emigrant children overboard, if
he found him in his path again. When I remonstrated with the scoundrel
on his impudence, as the father of the child knew him, and might report
him to the pilot, he bade me 'Go to h----, and take care of my own
people. He would not submit to my low tyranny. He would do as he
pleased, without asking my leave!' And then the fellow began to rave and
swear in such an outrageous manner, that I could hardly resist the
inclination I felt to pitch him plump into the sea. But I had my
revenge. Ha! ha! I had my revenge."

"In what way?" asked Lyndsay.

"The best way in the world; and the snarling puppy had no one to blame
but himself. My dog Oscar is d----d ugly, but he's the most sagacious
beast in the world. He can tell an honest man at a glance, and he hates
rogues. Oscar sat on his haunches eyeing the little man, with no very
amiable squint, during the row; every now and then uttering a
significant growl, and making a preparatory snap at Mr. Lootie's legs,
as if he longed to take the quarrel under his own especial management.
In the heat of anger, Mr. Lootie kept raising his hands and shaking them
at me in a threatening manner. Oscar let it pass for what it was worth
the first time, but the moment the fist was raised a second time, he
dashed into the little brute with tooth and claw, and pulling him to the
ground, he gave him such a touzling that the distiller was fain to roar
aloud for mercy, and I proved just then very deaf, and he got enough of
it, I can tell you."

"He was rightly served," said Flora; "I expect he will afford us some
amusement during the voyage. Captain, where did you procure this
cod-fish? I never tasted anything so delicious in the fish way in my
life."

"Ah, I thought you'd find that a treat. Those fish were alive under the
blue waters of the Firth an hour ago. Talk of the fine flavour of the
Newfoundland cod! they are not comparable to the fish caught in these
rapid waters."

Flora was on deck by sunrise the next morning. The sky was still
cloudless, but the breeze had freshened and the sea was coveted with
short rolling billows, which recalled to her mind a beautiful line in
Ossian, where the old bard compares these white-crested, short waves to
a flock of sheep coming tumbling over one another from the hills; and
in another place he terms the wi