"You have not sent ashore yet this morning: don’t you know there is a post-office at Dunvegan?" "Oh, yes; I heard so. But the men are below at breakfast, I think, and I am in no hurry to send, for there won’t be any letters for me, I know." "Oh, indeed," he says, with seeming carelessness, "it must be a long time since you have heard from your friends." "I have not many friends to hear from," she answers, with a light laugh, "and those I have don’t trouble me with many letters. I suppose they think I am in very good hands at present." "Oh, yes—no doubt," says he, and suddenly he begins to talk in warm terms of the delightfulness of the voyage. He is quite charmed with the appearance of Dunvegan Loch and castle. A more beautiful morning he never saw. And in the midst of all this enthusiasm the small boat comes alongside. There is an old man in the boat, and when he has fastened his oars, he says a few words to Angus Sutherland, and hands up a big black bottle. Our young Doctor brings the bottle over to Mary Avon. He seems to be very much pleased with everything this morning. "Now, is not that good-natured?" says he. "It is a bottle of fresh milk, with the compliments of ——, of Uginish. Isn’t it good-natured?" "Oh, indeed it is," says she, plunging her hand into her pocket. "You must let me give the messenger half-a-crown." "No, no; that is not the Highland custom," says the Doctor; and therewith he goes below, and fetches up another black bottle, and pours out a glass of whiskey with his own hand, and presents it to the ancient boatman. You should have seen the look of surprise in the old man’s face when Angus Sutherland said something to him in the Gaelic.