"But on that winter's day in the forest, Archie, these flowers seemed to speak to me, or rather the golden-haired child spoke to me through these flowers. I was back again on the hills above Glen Alva walking by her side; the sky above us was blue and clear, the clouds on the horizon looking like snow-white feathers, and the bees making drowsy music among the pinky heath. "I started up, and the vision fled, and around me were only the bare bleak forest trees and the fading heather. The vision fled, but it left in my breast the desire stronger now than ever to make my own way in the world, by the blessing of Providence; and Providence has never deserted me yet, Archie, lad. "I went straight home. I saw Major Walton, and talked to him, and told him all. "He seemed sorry. The last words he said to me when I went away--and there was moisture in the old man's eyes as he spoke--were these:-- "`Mind, I'm not tired of you, and I hope to live to meet you once again.' "I went to Southampton next day. I thought I had nothing to do but march on board some outward-bound ship, that they would be glad to have me. "Alas! I was disappointed." [The author hopes some boy who meditates running away to sea may read these lines.] "I was rudely jostled and laughed at, I was called a Scot, a Sawnie, a Johnny-raw, but work was never once offered me. "I wandered about the streets, not knowing what to do. The few coins I had in my possession did not last many days. "I felt sad and unhappy. I felt almost sorry I had left the good people who had done so much for me. The `bairnies' had been in tears when I went away; even the black-and-tan terrier had followed me a long way down the road, and looked very `wae and wistfu'' at me with his brown beseeching eyes when I said he must go back. "For two whole days I had hardly anything to eat. My flute, that I was fain to fall back upon, failed to support me, for the English, Archie, have not so much music and romance in their souls as the Scotch have. But one thing the English have is this, Archie, sound common-sense and a love of derring-do. "I was standing one day on the pier at Plymouth. I had played my way with my flute all this distance in the hopes of getting a ship. I was no more successful than before. "On this particular day, Archie, the drum was up [the storm signal], the wind blew cold and high, and the seas tossed their white manes as they rushed each other up the bay. I was feeling very sad and disconsolate, when all at once I heard a voice say to a man beside me,-- "`I'll give a guinea to be taken out to yonder ship.' "`I don't care to win no guinea,' said the fellow addressed, a hulking boatman in a rough blue jersey. `I don't care to win no guinea on a day like this. 'Sides, sir, I hain't got no mate.' "`I'll go,' I cried. "`You!' said the gentleman; `why, you're but a child.' "`I'm a Scotch boy,' I replied, `and I know boating well.' "`All right, my lad; jump in.'