, the
type of a class to which he belongs--each member possessing more or less
the complexion, tendencies, characteristics, tones, etcetera, of his
particular class. You are familiar, it may be, with the tones of the
class to which I belong, and hence the idea that you have heard my voice
before."

"Philosophically put, Barret," said Mabberly; "I had no idea you thought
so profoundly."

"H'm! I'm not so sure of the profundity," said the little old lady,
pursing her lips; "no doubt you may be right as regards class; but then,
young man, I have been familiar with all classes of men, and therefore,
according to your principle, I should have some strange memories
connected with Mr Jackman's voice, and Mr Mabberly's, and the laird's,
and everybody's."

"Well said, sister; you have him there!" cried the laird with a guffaw;
"but don't lug me into your classes, for I claim to be an exception to
all mankind, inasmuch as I have a sister who belongs to no class, and is
ready to tackle any man on any subject whatever, between metaphysics and
baby linen. Come now, Barret, do you think yourself strong enough to go
out with us in the boat to-morrow?"

"Quite. Indeed, I would have begged leave to go out some days ago, but
Doctor Jackman there, who is a very stern practitioner, forbids me.
However, I have my revenge, for I compel him to sit with me a great
deal, and entertain me with Indian stories."

"Oh!" exclaimed Junkie, who happened to be in the room, "he hasn't told
you yet about the elephant hunt, has he?"

"No, not yet, Junkie," returned Barret; "he has been faithful to his
promise not to go on with that story till you and your brothers are
present."

"Well, but tell it now, Mr Jackman, and I'll go an call Eddie and
Archie," pleaded the boy.

"You will call in vain, then," said his father, "for they have both gone
up the burn, one to photograph and the other to paint. I never saw such
a boy as Archie is to photograph. I believe he has got every scene in
the island worth having on his plates now, and he has taken to the
cattle of late--What think ye was the last thing he tried? I found him
in the yard yesterday trying to photograph himself!"

"That must indeed have puzzled him; how did he manage?" asked MacRummle.

"Well, it was ingenious. He tried to get Pat Quin to manipulate the
instrument while he sat; but Quin is clumsy with his fingers, at least
for such delicate work, and, the last time, he became ner