"No, indeed, I did not," replied Sommerville. "I never saw it before, and never heard you carried such a thing about you. It's a dangerous weapon, Angus; and you are a more dangerous man than I thought you," he added, smiling. "Tuts! nonsense, man!" said M'Intyre, impatiently. "It'll never harm you, at any rate, John." "No, no; I daresay not," replied his friend, good-humouredly; "but it may hurt others, though. Let me see it, Mac." Angus reluctantly complied with his request, and put the tiny but formidable weapon into his hands. "It has my initials, I declare, on the handle!" exclaimed Sommerville, as he looked at the letters J. S. which were engraved on the butt-end of the knife. "Yes," replied his friend; "it belonged to my maternal grandfather, John Stewart of Ardnahulish." Sommerville returned the weapon without further remark, and here the conversation dropped. We will avail ourselves of the opportunity to say who the parties were whom we have thus somewhat abruptly introduced to the reader. Angus M'Intyre was a native of the Island of Skye, in the West Highlands of Scotland, and was, at the period of our story (now a pretty old one, as it happened in the year 17--), an officer of excise in Glasgow. At this period, the Highland character had not lost all its original ferocity, and, consequently, the circumstance of an officer of excise, who was a Highlander, wearing a dirk, even in the discharge of the peaceable duties--though they were not always so either--that fell to his lot in a large town, was not by any means considered so very extraordinary a thing as it would be now. M'Intyre, as we have said, was a native of the West Highlands of Scotland, and an admirable specimen of the hardy and intrepid race from which he sprang. He was a very handsome man, and of the most daring courage, as had been often proved in the perilous adventures in which his profession occasionally engaged him. He was, however, of a remarkably quiet disposition, though fiery and irascible when provoked; but so much did the former prevail in his nature, that no one who did not know him intimately would have guessed how fiery a spirit lay couched underneath this thin covering of placidity, nor deemed, unless they saw that spirit roused, how formidable a man in his anger its possessor was. Yet, withal, was he a man of a kind and generous heart. The habit of carrying the deadly weapon to which we have alluded, Angus had acquired when a youth in the Highlands, where it was then common to be so armed; and this habit had adhered to him, notwithstanding the entire change of life to which his new occupation as an excise officer had introduced him. Angus, in short, although they had made him a clergyman, would, it was believed by those who knew him, have carried his skean dhu with him to the pulpit. He made no boast, however, of being possessed of this weapon. On the contrary, as we have already in part shown, he very much disliked any allusion to