meeting-house or an Ould Licht meeting-house--they had been fiercely debating on the merits of each during the previous twenty years--they saw the vessel returning with all sail on her. To run up one of their shirts to a pole at the entrance to the lagoon was a matter of a moment, and they saw that their signal was responded to. She was steered by their signals through the entrance to the lagoon and dropped anchor. She turned out to be the _Bonnie Doon_, of Dundee, Douglas MacKellar, Master. He had found wreckage out at sea and had thought it possible that some survivors of the wreck might want passages “hame.” “Nae, nae,” cried both men. “We're no in need o' passages hame just the noo. But what for did ye no mak' for the lagoon yestreen in the gloamin'?” “Hoot awa'--hoot awa'! ye wouldna hae me come ashore on the Sawbath Day,” said Captain MacKellar. “Ye shortened sail though,” said Mr. MacClackan. “Ay; on Saturday nicht: I never let her do more than just sail on the Sawbath. But what for did ye no run up a signal, ye loons, if ye spied me sae weel?” “Hoot awa'--hoot awa', man, ye wouldna hae a body mak' a signal on the Sawbath Day.” “Na--na; no a reglar signal; but ye micht hae run up a wee bittie--just eneuch tae catch me e'en on. Ay an' mebbe ye'll be steppin' aboard the noo?” “Weil hae to hae a clash about it, Captain.” Well, they talked it over cautiously for a few hours; for captain MacKellar was a hard man at a bargain, and he would not agree to give them a passage under two pound a head. At last, however, negotiations were concluded, the men got aboard the _Bonnie Doon,_ and piloted her through the channel. They reached the Clyde in safety, and Captain Mac-Kellar remarked,-- “Weel, ma freens, I'm in hopes that ye'll pay me ower the siller this day.” “Ay, ye maun be in the quare swithers till ye see the siller; but we'll hand it ower, certes,” said the passengers. “In the meantime, we'd tak' the leeberty o' callin' your attention to a wee bit contra-claim that we hae japped doon on a bit slip o' paper. It's three poon nine for Harbour Dues that ye owe us, Captain MacKellar, and twa poon ten for pilotage--it's compulsory at yon island, so 'tis, so mebbe ye'll mak' it convenient to hand us ower the differs when we land. Ay, Douglas MacKellar, ma mon, ye shouldna try to get the better o' Brither-Scots!” Captain MacKellar was a God-fearing man, but he said, “Dom!” CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH Whatever my garden may be, I think I can honestly claim for it that it has no educational value. The educational garden is one in which all the different orders and classes and groups and species and genera are displayed in such a way as to make no display, but to enable an ordinary person in the course of ten or twelve years to become a botanist. Botany is the syntax of the garden. A man may know everything about syntax and yet never become a poet; and a garden should be a poem.