A ROMANCE OF THE HEBRIDES. THE world, even in its hero worship, is

THE

a discriminating world. It indeed loves all greatness, but it dearly loves successful greatness; and it is not to the martyrs of lost causes" that it sings anthems and erects monuments. Even among the ranks of this abortive chivalry it exercises a partial respect. The honorably born have more than their just share of honor thrust upon them; those of humbler birth are often mulcted of even that fair proportion which they have too well earned.

Such reflections as these, mingled perhaps with some indignation, must force themselves upon the hearts of all who stand once in a lifetime within the beautiful kirk-yard of Kilmuir, and look over

the "cloudy seas" and the bold islands of the Hebrides. For here, on this lonely hill, without a stone to mark her grave, rests the bravest and the fairest of the Macdonalds: the devoted adherent of the Stuarts against the house of Hanover in England; the eager partisan of the house of Hanover against the colonists in America.

It was in 1853 I stood within the ruinous family mausoleum of the Macdonalds of Kingsburgh. Anxiously I pushed aside the high thistles to look for some remnant of a headstone that her sons had placed above her grave in 1790; but every particle had been carried away by admiring pilgrims, and its only guardian was the somewhat remarkable growth of Scotch thistles that not inappropriately shook over it their purple blooms.

"Is it ta stone ye mean, ma'am? Ta daisies and ta thistles are a heap ponnier. Yes, inteet."

But, for all that, it was impossible to avoid contrasting this ruinous plot and its neglected grave with the splendid cathedral of S. Pietro, in Frascati, where in a coffin of cypress-wood, with the crown, sceptre, and sword of his race, rests the man whose life Flora Macdonald risked her own to save. For the Prince, the high altar of the cathedral, and a costly marble monument in St. Peter's, Rome; for the simple clans woman, an unmarked grave on a Hebridean hill.

But though Lady Flora is gradually slipping out of history-in spite of Dr. Johnson's prophecy-there is a sentiment of admiration for her wonderful life and character which quietly passes on her name from generation to generation.

That branch of the Macdonald family to which Flora's own father belonged joined the Prince almost to a man. Macdonald of Armadale was more prudent. He foresaw from the first the failure of the enterprise, and though his heart was with the Stuart, he rendered a nominal adherence to King George, and was made commander of the royal militia raised in the neighborhood. He also had sufficient influence over Flora's brother, young Macdonald of Milton, to prevent him publicly joining the Stuart standard. Thus it will be seen that Flora's immediate relatives were not with the Prince, although the clan to which she belonged was fully committed to his cause.

Flora Macdonald was born about the year 1720. She was the daughter of Macdonald of Milton, in South Uist, one of the most remote of the Hebrides. Highland gentlewomen in those days received but a very limited education, but Flora inherited from a long line of martial ancestors an exalted sense of honor and loyalty, and a passionate bravery that was insensible to fear. In youth she must have been very lovely, for even Dr. Johnson-who hated a Jacobin-describes her as a woman of "middle stature, pleasing presence, and elegant behavior"; while Boswell more enthusiastically lauds her "air of high breeding and her gentle beauty."

Prince Charles landed in Scotland on the 19th of August, 1745, and was immediately joined by a band of Highlanders. With these he went southward, his small, irregular army being augmented gradually by adherents from Lowland and English Jacobite families. He took possession of Edinburgh, routed the royal

The government, quite sensible of the validity of Charles's claims, set an enormous price upon his head, and inaugurated a tour of vengeance through the Highlands, which for barbarity is happily without any parallel in history. The outline of this tour, as given in the brutal publications of the times, consisted in sending strong parties of soldiers through the districts of the insurgent chiefs, "to burn all the houses, carry off all the cattle, and shoot every male that fled at their approach." But the filling up of this dreadful outline included starvation, murder, outrage, and a thousand horrors and crimes.

The battle of Culloden had been fought

plete. The Highland glens had been so depopulated that it was possible to travel for days together without meeting any sign of human life. Prince Charles, surrounded by enemies more savage than sleuthhounds, assumed a humble disguise, and almost alone sailed in an open boat for the Hebrides, where, after many perilous adventures, he found a temporary refuge in South Uist, the Macdonalds of that sept, as before said, having been deeply engaged in the rebellion.

But it was at the best a refuge exposed to every misery and to every danger, and it was not long ere the government suspected his retreat. Then South Uist was so beset by sea and land that it was impossible for the Prince to move a mile in any direction without risk of being taken and slain, for orders to that effect had

been issued. Examining a map, it will be seen that the Hebrides extend in detached masses along the northwestern coast of Scotland for about one hundred and fifty miles. They are nearly all difficult of access, and present the wildest features of mountains, moors, and morasses. Lewis is the largest and most northerly, and southward of it lie North Uist, Benbecula, and South Uist, the last three so closely connected by small rocky islets that they are often spoken of collectively as the "Long Island." Opposite to South Uist lies Skye, the most important of the Hebrides, separated from "Long Island" by a strait forty miles

across.

It was in this desolate land Prince Charles endured the utmost extent of human needs and suffering. Fleeing from island to island, crossing stormy straits in open boats, lurking in morasses and caves, hungry, cold, naked, seldom attended by more than one adherent, his brave young heart at length almost gave up the hope of eluding his enemies.

At this juncture he was in South Uist, with a faithful follower called O'Neil. He had been wandering between South Uist and Benbecula for ten days, often lurking within the sound of the voices of those who were hunting him. His case was desperate in the extreme. Then O'Neil discovered that Flora Macdonald was on a visit to her brother at Milton. He was slightly acquainted with the lady, and he determined to throw the Prince upon her generosity, and trust his safety to her good sense and courage.

In some way he obtained an interview with her. With all the passion and tenderness of a Celtic nature, O'Neil described Charles's distress and danger, and implored her aid. Flora wept at his recital, and agreed to visit the Prince, and arrange a plan for his

escape. An interview was appointed on her brother's land in Benbecula; and with a faithful servant she managed to pass the little strait unseen and unchallenged. It is not difficult to imagine the desolate, storm-beaten rock, and in its rude Hebridean sheeling the royal wanderer and his faithful friend holding with the Highland maiden an anxious council of life and death.

Paul Delaroche has given the world a fine picture representing this meeting in the hut on Benbecula. It is generally described as "the last of the Stuarts dying of hunger, and supported by Flora Macdonald." But although there is some artistic license in this picture, it is very certain that if Flora had not then come to Charles's aid, he must have speedily died, either from exhaustion, or the swords of his enemies.

It was at length decided that Flora must find means to convey Prince Charles to her mother's house in Skye; and as Flora's step-father was then in command of the militia patrolling South Uist, she hoped to procure a pass to Skye which would include the Prince in some disguise or other.

As she was returning from this confer

HIS DEPARTURE FOR RAASAY.

ence she was met by a party of soldiers, and as she had no pass authorizing her visit to Benbecula, she was arrested and carried before the officer then on duty, who fortunately proved to be her stepfather. No particulars of this interview have been preserved, but there is little doubt Macdonald of Armadale entered warmly into Flora's scheme; for he gave her at once a passport to her mother's house in Skye, which included her manservant, Neil Mackeachen, and a young Irishwoman called Betty Burke, whom Macdonald specially recommended to his wife as a good spinner of flax," and who was really Prince Charles in that character.

Flora then took her relative, Lady Clanranald, into her confidence, and with her help a proper dress and a small shallop were quickly prepared. Together they then cautiously visited the hut where Charles and O'Neil were anxiously waiting for some intelligence. When they entered it they found this handsome young heir of kings roasting the liver of a sheep upon a wooden spit. The whole party partook of it, Flora sitting on the Prince's right hand, and Lady Clanranald on his left.

While they were eating, Lady Clanranald was hastily called home by the intelligence that General Campbell, with a large force of soldiers, was seeking the Pretender at her house. She was questioned very strictly, and though she deluded the government at that time, both she and her husband subsequently suffered a long imprisonment for their kindness. Wherries full of armed men patrolled the coast, and Charles was very thankful when the night permitted him to assume the quilted petticoat, coarse printed gown, and mantle of dun camlet peculiar to the Irish peasant girl. He had now also to part with his last follower, O'Neil, for Flora had taken as her guardian a relative of her own called Neil Mackeachen, or Macdonald. This Macdonald afterward escaped to France, and became the father of the famous Marshal Macdonald, Duke of Tarentum, a soldier distinguished during the wars of Napoleon, and who, eighty years after this hazardous enterprise, visited the scenes which his relative's valor had made so memorable.

The night proved wet and tempestuous, and they had to wait among the rocks many hours before any opportuni

Even

ty of putting off presented itself. then the raging seas of those narrow straits threatened continually to swamp their little boat. When day dawned they were out of sight of land, and had no means of knowing in what part of the Hebrides they were. When they did reach the shores of Skye, they found them lined with militia, who, on their refusal to land, pursued them with a deadly rain of bullets.

At length, after severe fatigue and exposure, a landing was effected on the northern extremity of Skye, where Sir Alexander Macdonald had a seat. Flora wisely left the Prince in hiding, and went with her supposed servant to reconnoitre. It was well she did so. There were several British officers in the house, but she managed, with great presence of mind, to converse merrily with them on topics quite foreign to the matter which filled her heart and thoughts.

Lady Macdonald, a true Jacobite at heart, was soon informed how affairs stood, and not daring herself to leave the house, she sent her relative, Macdonald of Kingsburgh, to succor the Prince. He gladly carried the fugitive wine and food, and then took him home to his own house. The lady of Kingsburgh was at first greatly alarmed at the guest her husband brought her. "The Prince!" she screamed; "then we'll be a' hanged noo."

"Hout! tout! We can die but ance, an' we couldna die in a better cause. Gang awa' an' mak' haste wi' the supper for his Royal Highness," answered the old gentleman, gallantly.

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The good-lady needed little persuasion; she was for Prince Charlie" as heartily as any of the Macdonalds, and Charles enjoyed under her roof such a supper and such a bed as he had long been a stranger to.

Flora arrived at Kingsburgh as soon as it was possible to do so without arousing the suspicion of the officers who were at Lady Macdonald's, and the next morning the little party, guided by Kingsburgh, proceeded to walk across the isl and to Portree, where they hoped to find friends and a boat to convey Charles to Raasay-a little island between Skye and the mainland of Scotland, that offered many advantages for future safety.

When Charles left Kingsburgh there was a very touching scene between its mistress and her Prince. She arranged