Mr. Byles announced the new
departure, and, even if Bulldog had not been keeping watch with an
inscrutable countenance, the school was too much amazed to interrupt.
Having touched on the glories of the creation amid which we lived, Mr.
Byles pointed out, in what the newspapers call "neat and well-chosen
terms," that it was not enough to learn mathematics as they all did so
diligently--Jock Howieson's eye turned instinctively to Bulldog's
cane--but they must also know some natural science in order to become,
as he hoped they would, cultured men--Speug was just able to cast a
longing glance at Thomas John. That no pursuit was easier and more
delightful than botany, especially among wild flowers. That on Saturday
he proposed to go with as many as would join him to ransack the
treasures of Kilspindie Woods. That these woods were very rich, he
believed, in flowers, among which he mentioned wild geraniums--at which
the school began to recover and rustle. That the boys might dry the
geraniums and make books for Christmas presents with them, and that he
hoped to see a herbarium in the Seminary containing all the wild flowers
of the district. The school was now getting into good spirits, and
Bulldog allowed his eye to fall on Speug. That any boy who desired to
improve his mind was to put on his oldest suit and bring a bag to carry
the plants in and be in front of the Seminary at nine to-morrow. Then
Bulldog brought his cane down on the desk with energy and dismissed the
school, and Nestie told Peter that his mouth had begun to twitch.

Outside the school gathered together on the terrace around the Russian
guns, which was our Forum, and after five seconds' pause, during which
we gathered inspiration from each others' faces, a great shout of
laughter went up to the sky, full-toned, unanimous, prolonged. Any sense
of humour in the Seminary was practical, and Mr. Byles's botany class,
with expeditions, was irresistible.

"Geranniums!" cried Howieson, who was immensely tickled; "it cowes a'.
An' what was the ither flooer--'herbarries'? It's michty; it'ill be
poppies an' mustard seed next. Speug, ye'ill be making a book for a
present to Bulldog."

"Tak care o' yirsel," Bauldie shouted to the Dowbiggins, who were making
off, as mass meetings did not agree with them, "an' see ye dinna wet yir
feet or dirty yir hands. Ye'ill get yir wheeps at home if ye do. Give us
a bit o' Byles, Nestie," and then there was instant silence, for Nestie