indeed, the members of which
Donald studied with keen interest, for he had a sociable nature, but
bore in mind the good advice given him by Mr. Paterson in regard to
making acquaintances.

As it fell out, his first friend was won in a decidedly dramatic
fashion. Among the occupants of the first cabin was a gentleman by
name Henry Sutherland, whose wife and child, a beautiful boy of four
years, accompanied him. Donald was greatly attracted by the child, and
anxious to make friends with him, but had no opportunity, until one day
a startling thing happened.

It was fine and warm, and the little fellow was playing happily about
the quarter-deck near his mother, when a sprig of the nobility, the
Hon. Hector Simpson, who had been sent out by his family in the hope of
improving his habits, sauntered along, and, moved by a spirit of
mischief, picked up the child, and held him over the bulwarks, saying
teasingly, "How would you like to go and play with the fishes?" The
mother screamed and started forward, and the child, terrified on his
own account, gave so sudden and violent a wrench as to free himself
from his tormentor's grasp and fall into the sea, leaving a portion of
his dress in the latter's hands. Appalled by the utterly unexpected
outcome of his foolish act, and unable to atone for it by springing
after the child, for he could not swim a stroke, the Hon. Hector joined
his shouts for help with the shrieks of the frenzied mother.

At that moment Donalblane was leaning over the bulwarks near by and
feeling very lonely. He longed for friendly companionship, but was
bashful about breaking the ice with any of those to whom he felt drawn,
and so far no one, save Mr. Paterson, who always had a pleasant smile
and kindly word for him, had taken any particular notice of him.

Now Donald was a strong, expert swimmer. He had dared the depths of
many a dark loch before he left his native mountains for the coast, and
at Leith he had always been one of the first to take a dip in the
spring, and one of the last to give it up in the autumn. Without a
question of fear, therefore, but thinking only of the pretty boy in
peril of death, he threw off his coat and leaped over the bulwarks into
the heaving waters. Happily the little one was still afloat when
Donald's powerful strokes brought him within reach.

"There now, dearie, I've got you all safe! Dinna fear; ye'll no'
droon. Keep still and ye'll be a' richt," panted Donald,