their homeward path, and
read aloud the following advertisement:--

"To sail on the first of July, via Quebec and Montreal; the fast
sailing brig _Anne_, Captain Williams. For particulars, inquire
at the office of P. Gregg, Bank Street, Leith.

"N.B. The _Anne_ is the last ship which leaves this port, for
Canada, during the season."

"Hurra!" cried the volatile Jim, flinging his cap into the air; "a fig
for Captain Ayre and the _Flora_. I'd lay sixpence if I had it, that we
shall sail in the _Anne_."

"Let us go, James, and look at the vessel," cried Flora, clapping her
hands with delight. "Oh, if it had not been for our fright on the sands,
we should not have seen this."

Flora hastened home to inform her husband of the important discovery
they had made; and before half an hour had elapsed, she found herself in
company with him and Jim, holding a conference with Captain Williams, in
the little cabin of the _Anne_.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE BRIG ANNE

Was a small, old-fashioned, black-hulled vessel, marvellously resembling
a collier in her outward appearance. She was a one-masted ship, of 180
tons burthen, and promised everything but aristocratic accommodations
for women and children.

The cabin was a low, square room, meant to contain only the captain and
his mate; whose berths, curtained with coarse red stuff, occupied the
opposite walls. The table in the centre was a fixture, and the bench
which ran round three sides of this crib, was a fixture also; and though
backed by the wall, was quite near enough to the table to serve the
double purpose of chair or sofa. A small fireplace occupied the front of
the cabin, at the side of which, a door opened into a tiny closet, which
the Captain dignified with the name of his state-cabin. The compass was
suspended in a brass box from the ceiling,--articles of comfort or
luxury there were none.

The Captain, a stout, broad-shouldered, red-faced man, like Captain
Ayre of the _Flora_, was minus an eye; but the one which fortune had
left him was a piercer. He was a rough, blunt-looking tar, some
forty-five or fifty years of age; and looked about as sentimental and
polite as a tame bear. His coarse, weather-beaten face had an honest,
frank expression, and he bade his guests to be seated with an air of
such hearty hospitality, that they felt quite at home in his narrow low
den.

He had no cabin-passengers, though a great many in the steerage; and h