Part 1

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VOL. II.--NO. 90. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR CENTS.

Tuesday, July 19, 1881. Copyright, 1881, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50 per Year, in Advance.

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FLORA MACDONALD IN NORTH CAROLINA.

BY BENSON J. LOSSING.

When the young Prince Charles Edward, grandson of James II., King of Great Britain, landed in Scotland in 1745, and claimed his right to the throne from which his grandfather had been driven, thousands of Scotchmen, regarding him as their lawful sovereign, joined him in fighting for the British crown. He fought, was defeated, and became a hiding fugitive on the island of Uist, one of the Hebrides, off the west coast of Scotland, and was assisted in making his escape to France by Flora Macdonald, a beautiful, patriotic, and romantic Scotch girl, just from school in Edinburgh, come to visit her kinsman, Laird Macdonald, the chief of Uist.

Laird and Lady Macdonald were friends of the Prince, and were trying to hide him from the searching eyes of British soldiers, who swarmed on the island in quest of him. They could not shield him much longer. Lady Macdonald conceived a plan for the Prince's escape, but found no man willing to undertake the perilous enterprise. Her young kinswoman Flora spoke scornfully of the timidity that held back her countrymen from such a patriotic and benevolent task.

"Will _you_ undertake it, Flora?" asked Lady Macdonald, perceiving the young girl's zeal and patriotism.

"Indeed I will," quickly responded Flora.

Preparations were immediately made for the romantic enterprise. Neil Macdonald, a young kinsman of Flora, volunteered to accompany her. She obtained a passport to leave the island with Neil, and three others as a boat's crew, and Betsey Burke, a stout Irishwoman whom Flora pretended she had engaged as a seamstress for her mother in the isle of Skye.

Flora and her little party left Uist on a pleasant afternoon. Betsey Burke was the Prince in disguise. That night they weathered a terrific storm, and reached Skye in safety in the morning. At the intended landing-place they were confronted by soldiers, when, turning quickly eastward, they escaped a volley of bullets sent after them, and landed near the house of Sir Alexander Macdonald. Leaving the Prince concealed among the rocks, Flora told her secret in the willing ears of Lady Macdonald, who furnished an escort for the party, including stout Betsey Burke, to the Laird of Kingsburg (who was also a Macdonald). Flora had conducted the young Prince as an Irish seamstress through crowds of soldiers and people who were searching for him. The travellers tarried at the house of the Laird of Kingsburg that night, and the next morning Prince Charles Edward embarked for a successful voyage to France. As he was about to leave he kissed his fair deliverer, and said, "Gentle, faithful maiden, I entertain the hope that we shall yet meet in the royal palace."

The Prince and Flora never saw each other again. Her young kinsman, Neil Macdonald, accompanied Charles Edward to France, married there, and his son, born four years before Napoleon Bonaparte, became that great military leader's famous Marshal Macdonald, and Duke of Tarentum.

The part that Flora had taken in the escape of the Prince soon became known, and she, with the Laird of Kingsburg and other kindred, was confined in the Tower of London as a prisoner of state, charged with the crime of treason. Flora's romantic story, and her extreme youth and radiant beauty, created almost universal sympathy for her among every class of the English people. When George II. asked her, sternly, "How could you dare to succor the enemy of my crown and kingdom?" she replied, with sweet simplicity, "It was no more than I would have done for your Majesty had you been in his place."

It was so evident that Flora was not a political partisan of the "young Pretender," as he was called (she was not of his religious faith), and that she had acted from the generous and benevolent impulses of a woman's heart, that she and her kindred were pardoned and released. While she remained in London she attracted great attention. Crowds of the nobility and gentry of both sexes visited her, and bestowed upon her costly presents; and the government sent her home in a handsome chaise, accompanied by a fellow-prisoner, Malcolm McLeod, who afterward said, "I went to London to be hanged, and returned to Scotland in a chaise and four with Flora Macdonald."

Flora afterward married Allan, son of the Laird of Kingsburg, and became the mistress of the mansion where Prince Charles Edward passed his last night in Scotland, June 29, 1746. There she and her husband entertained Dr. Johnson and Boswell when they visited the Hebrides in 1773. She had then been a wife more than twenty years, and was the mother of numerous children, yet she was still beautiful, and full of enthusiasm and abiding loyalty to the British crown. Misfortune caused Flora and her family to join some of their kindred who had settled in North Carolina, and she abode for a while at Cross Creek (now Fayetteville).

In the winter of 1849 I started to follow the line of the retreat of General Greene before Cornwallis across North Carolina from the Catawba to the Dan, in 1781, but soon turned eastward to Fayetteville, where I arrived toward sunset. In the evening I called on Mrs. McL----, an aged and sprightly Scotchwoman, who, I was told, remembered Flora Macdonald. She was enthusiastic in her praises of that noble woman from the Hebrides. She described her as "not very tall, but a very handsome and dignified woman, with fair complexion, sparkling blue eyes, the finest teeth ever seen, and her hair, partly covered with a pretty lace cap, was slightly streaked with gray. Her kindly voice was sweetest music," continued Mrs. McL----, "and oh, how the poor and the church missed her when she went home after seeing much trouble here!"

"Is her dwelling here yet standing?" I asked.

"No; it was partly burned in the great fire here about twenty years ago. As you pass from the Market-House to the Court-House, you may see the ruins of it near the creek," she said.

Stepping to a quaint chest of drawers, Mrs. McL---- took out a dingy-looking letter written by Flora to her (Mrs. McL----'s) elder sister, then a maiden, of twenty, dated February 1, 1776. It was a brief note, but an exceedingly interesting one, as it was in the bold handwriting of the heroine of Skye.

"It was sent," said the old lady, "from her new home in the Barbacue Congregation, and, as you will see, she wrote her name 'Flory.'"

"Then she did not live here long?" I said.

"No; she soon moved to the Barbacue Congregation, about twenty miles north of here."

On the day when that note was written, the royal Governor of North Carolina issued a proclamation calling upon all friends of the King to assemble, with arms, at Cross Creek, and join his standard. The Macdonalds were all loyalists, and now the troubles of Flora in North Carolina began. Her husband and others, to the number of about fifteen hundred, mostly Scotchmen, readily obeyed the call.

"Flora came with her husband and friends," said Mrs. McL----. "I remember seeing her riding along the line on a large white horse, and encouraging her countrymen to be faithful to the King. Why, she looked like a queen. But she went no further than here, and when they marched away, she returned to her home."

Nearly a month later these Scotch loyalists were routed, dispersed, made prisoners, or killed in battle on Moore's Creek. Flora's husband was among the prisoners, and was sent to Halifax jail. He was soon afterward released, when he left North Carolina with his family for Scotland in a British sloop of war. On the way the vessel was attacked by a French vessel of war. The courage of the English sailors appeared to desert them, and capture seemed inevitable, when Flora ascended to the deck, and by words and deeds so stimulated their spirits that they beat off the enemy, and the Macdonalds were landed safely on their native soil of Skye. During the engagement Flora was severely wounded in the hand. She said, sometimes, when speaking of the peculiarity of her situation. "I have hazarded my life both for the house of Stuart and the house of Hanover, and I do not see that I am a great gainer by it."

Flora Macdonald was the mother of five sons and two daughters. She retained much of her beauty and all her dignity and loveliness of character until the last. She was always modest, always kind, always sweet and benevolent in disposition. She died early in March, 1790, and was buried in the cemetery of Kilmuir, in the isle of Skye. Her shroud, as she requested long before her death, was made of the sheets in which Prince Charles Edward reposed on the night he slept at Kingsburg. Her funeral was attended by fully three thousand persons. Two years later the remains of her husband were laid by her side. For eighty years their resting-place was covered only by the greensward. In 1871 a beautiful monument was erected over them.

"When the news of Flora Macdonald's death reached the Barbacue Congregation," said Mrs. McL----, "a solemn funeral service was held in the church there, when Dr. Hall, who died in 1826, in the eighty-second year of his age, preached the sermon. He had been a military leader as well as a preacher of righteousness. My husband was then an elder in the church, and we were both present. Flora Macdonald had no more sincere mourners than were found in the Barbacue Congregation at that time."

A LITTLE MARAUDER.

BY MRS. MARGARET SANGSTER.

Oh, Robin, my Robin, so clever and merry, Pray why do you never peck twice at a cherry? You fly at the daintiest one you can see, Eat a morsel yourself, and just spoil it for me.

Oh, Robin, sweet Robin, you dear little warden, You're welcome to feast on the fruit in my garden: I know what invaders you're driving away From flower and tree through the long summer day.

But, Robin, bright Robin, please listen to reason: You waste lots of cherries, my pet, every season. _I_ finish my cake to the very last crumb-- Why can not you finish your cherry or plum?

A GOOD EXCHANGE.

BY ALEXANDER FRASER.

Once upon a time a poor boy, the son of a widow, went out to gather strawberries. He well knew the paths of the forest, and the place where the berries grew thickest and sweetest. Very soon his joyful cry was heard:

"Hello, hello Ziegaleck! Ich hoa mei Tippla Bodendeck!"

And as he gathered the ripe fruit, he sang in merry tones:

"Hello, hello, Koalb! Ich hoa mei Tippla hoalb! Hello, hello Kuhl! Ich hoa mei Tippla vuhl!"

Soon his earthen dish was full, and the boy started for home. As he turned his steps into the narrow path, he heard from the rocky side of the pathway a voice saying in entreating tones, "Pray give me thy berries."

The lad turned in fright, and saw a little old man with a long gray beard, and worn, faded garments, who looked kindly upon him as he repeated, "Pray give me thy berries."

"But," said the lad, "I must take the berries to my mother, who is obliged to sell them to buy us bread."

"And I," said the little old man, "have a sick wife at home, who would be greatly comforted and refreshed by them."

The lad's heart was filled with pity. He thought to himself, "I will give him the berries for his sick wife, and if I am industrious, I can again fill my dish before night-fall." Then he said to the little man: "Yes, you may have them. Where shall I empty them for you?"

"We will exchange dishes," was the answer. "See, you may have mine, which is empty, and I will take yours, which is filled. Mine is brand-new, but no matter."

Thereupon the lad gave the little old man his berries, and received in return the new but empty vessel; and the gray-bearded man with a smile uttered his thanks.

The boy took the dish, and hastened back to the forest. Soon he came to the place where the berries grew thickest and sweetest, and having replenished his store, again joyfully turned his steps homeward.

When he arrived at home he related to his mother what had happened to him in the forest, and with delight displayed the new dish. The mother commended her son for the kindness he had manifested toward the little man, then took the vessel in her hand, and examined it carefully.

"Ah! happy are we, my child!" she exclaimed. "The dish is pure gold. See how it sparkles! It is the little old man of the forest who has thus rewarded you for your goodness. Now, thanks to him, we are rich; but we will never forget the poor and the sick in their sorrow."

WONDERS OF CONEY ISLAND.

BY A. W. ROBERTS.

If grown-up folks and young people who are desirous of becoming acquainted with the marine wonder-land of Coney Island will take a stroll along the beach, starting from the Iron Tower and proceeding a mile toward Norton's Point, I'll promise them that their constant exclamations will be, "I wonder what it is!" as they meet with one after another of the many curious marine objects that are to be found along the two upper lines of drift.

For years I have seen visitors (both old and young) on the island poke at and destroy with their canes, sticks, and wooden shovels hundreds of beautiful and interesting objects that had been cast up by the ocean, in their efforts to determine what they were.

Some time ago I visited the island for the special purpose of writing up and illustrating some of the most common objects that can be obtained in an hour or two's' collecting.

One of the handsomest and most abundant of all sertularians to be found on the island is shown in Fig. 1. Sertularians consist of hydroid communities which build up the beautiful structure shown in the illustration, which is generally called by excursionists "sea-moss" and sea-weed, though it is not a moss at all, nor is it a sea-weed, but is an animal product built up by immense numbers of minute and beautifully formed creatures known to naturalists as hydroids. From these hydroids are created the transparent jelly-fish we see floating in the ocean. After gathering the sertularia it should be washed in warm soap suds to clean it; when nearly dry it can be pressed in the leaves of a book just as ferns are treated. I have often gathered it on the island two feet long, and have used it with evergreens for Christmas decorations. It is said to be an excellent material for canaries when building their nests, as it contains both salt and lime.

Fig. 2 is the horseshoe-crab, also called the king-crab, from the fact of its being the largest of all crabs on our coast. This crab is common on sandy shores, where it partially buries itself below the surface of the sand when in search of food. In the illustration is shown the egg of the king-crab one-third larger than life. Some few days before the egg of the crab hatches out, the young crab is seen tumbling about inside of the transparent shell of the egg. King-crabs lay their eggs in the sand on sand-bars that are exposed to the action of the sun during the low tide.

Fig. 3 is the squid, also called the ink-pot, from the fact that when in danger he ejects a stream of ink-like fluid, which forms a black cloud in the water about him; through this he escapes from his enemies.

Fig. 4 is a cluster of squid eggs. The egg masses of the squid are always to be found on the island during the months of May and June. The eggs are inclosed in an elongated pod-shaped mass of jelly which, when held up to the light, reveals the outline of a number of small translucent eggs of a light yellow color. From fifty to one hundred of the pod-shaped jelly masses occur in one cluster. The great wonder is how one small squid can lay so great a mass of eggs.

Fig. 5 is one of the commonest shells on Coney Island, particularly after a storm, and is known as the natica. It lives on the sand-bars below low-water mark, where it feeds on the surf or skimmer clam by boring a hole through the hard shell of the clam with its tongue, which is coated with numerous fine teeth.

Fig. 6 is the egg case of the natica, of which thousands are cast on the shore every summer. This egg case is often known as the "mermaid collar," on account of its striking resemblance to a collar. This curious object is composed of grains of white and black sand fastened together with a soft and transparent glue, of which the natica seems to possess a very large supply. How the collar is so regularly and smoothly formed out of the sand is still a mystery to naturalists.

Fig. 7 is the skimmer clam, or surf clam; it is to be found on the entire length of the outside beach of Coney Island where the water is clear, and exposed to the constant action of the waves. There it constructs a burrow two or three feet deep. Sometimes, after an unusually low tide, it is left exposed one or two inches above the sand, when, if cautiously approached, it may be drawn out with a sudden jerk, but if alarmed, it will penetrate the sand quicker than it can be followed. Thousands of these clams are taken home by visitors to the island for the purpose of cooking, but when opened are found to be so full of fine sand that they are useless. It received the name of skimmer clam from the Dutch settlers, who used the empty shells for skimming their milk. On the beak, or highest point of the shell, is shown (in the drawing) a round hole made by the natica.

Fig. 8 is the egg of our common skate; the four hair-like appendages attached to the sides are tangles composed of a fine silk-like material. The skate, after laying an egg, takes it in her mouth and carries it to the nearest broken oyster or clam shell, and entangles or fastens it by means of the silk-like appendages, otherwise it would be driven ashore on the first storm.

Fig. 9 is a mass of the eggs of the whelk, one of our deep-water shell-fish, the empty shell of which is seldom cast on the Coney Island shore, but the masses of eggs come ashore in large quantities, particularly after storms, when they are broken from their stone anchorages.

Fig. 10 is a string of the egg cases of the periwinkle shell, which is one of the largest shells inhabiting the waters of Coney Island. The eggs are contained in a soft leathery case of a light yellow color, about the size of a two-cent piece, but much thicker. Each case contains from one hundred and fifty to two hundred eggs. These strings of eggs vary from one to two feet in length.

[Begun in No. 80 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, May 10.]

THE CRUISE OF THE "GHOST."

BY W. L. ALDEN,

AUTHOR OF "THE MORAL PIRATES," ETC.

CHAPTER XI.

Charley, leaving his companions near the fore-rigging, went out and loosed the jib and flying-jib, and when this was done, returned and showed them where the halyards were. The flying-jib was hoisted without much difficulty, but the jib was heavier, and the boys found it necessary to take the halyards to a "gypsy," which is something like a small windlass, with the aid of which the obstinate sail was soon hoisted. The sheets were then trimmed flat, and the pressure of the wind on the sails forced the brig's head around so that she no longer lay with her broadside to the wind and sea. The foretopmast stay-sail had evidently been set during the gale, for it had been blown away, and nothing remained of it but a few shreds clinging to the bolt-ropes.

Charley next went aloft and loosed the foretopsail. The brig was an old-fashioned affair, and had the old-fashioned single topsails, so the sail was rather a large one for four boys to handle. They, however, succeeded in sheeting it home, and then, with the help of the "gypsy," managed to hoist the yard. All the yards had been squared before the brig was abandoned, and she had swung around so far that the topsail filled, after a fashion, as soon as it was set. Sending Joe aft to the wheel, and telling him to keep the brig directly before the wind, Charley again went aloft and loosed the fore-top-gallant-sail, which was small enough to be sheeted home and hoisted up by Charley, Tom, and Harry, without Joe's help. With the help of these two sails, the vessel began to move slowly through the water. Her rate of speed was certainly not very great, but it was sufficient to give steerage-way to her--at least so Charley thought. But as the brig showed a great apparent unwillingness to keep on her course, and acted very much like a drunken man who staggers from one side of the pavement to the other, he went aft to see what was the matter.

"I'm glad you've come," said Joe. "I'm afraid I don't exactly understand steering with the wheel. Which way do you turn it if you want her head to turn to starboard?"

"You roll the wheel over to starboard, and that ports the helm," replied Charley.

"Then I've been doing just the opposite," exclaimed Joe, "and that's the reason why I couldn't do anything with her. It's lucky I found out what was the matter before any harm was done."

"I'll come back presently," said Charley, "and give you a lesson in steering. I must go now and try to get the foresail on her."

The foresail was set after a long struggle. The breeze was now very light, but the three square sails drew well, and the brig was certainly making a full knot an hour. The jib and flying-jib were of course of no use now that the vessel was directly before the wind, but Charley decided to let them alone, as they were doing no harm, and as a slight change in the direction of the wind would bring them into use again. The boys were now so tired that they decided to rest and have something to eat before resuming work.

A search for provisions did not prove very successful. There was a lot of dried cod-fish in a box in the maintop, where nobody but Charley would have dreamed of looking for it, and there was salt beef of very uninviting appearance in the harness-cask near the foremast. In the galley were a few biscuits, which did not appear to have been spoiled by sea-water, but there was nothing else to eat on board the vessel. Below the deck, the brig seemed to be nearly full of water--so full, at least, that there was no possibility of going below. As nobody was anxious to eat dried cod-fish or raw salt beef, Harry said he would go on board the _Ghost_ and bring a supply of provisions that would give the boys a comfortable lunch.

He went to the main-chains, to which the rope that held the _Ghost_ had been made fast, but to his surprise it was not there. Thinking that he had made a mistake, and looked on the wrong side of the vessel, he turned to cross the deck. As he did so, he uttered a cry that startled his companions. "The _Ghost_ has gone!" he cried. "There she is, a mile astern." She had not been fastened securely, and had gone adrift while the boys were making sail.

"We must turn right back and get her," exclaimed Harry. "Don't let's lose a minute's time."

"Can we go back after her?" asked Tom.

Charley thought a moment, and answered: "We can't. That is, I don't think it's possible."

"Why not?" asked Harry.

"We'll try it; but there's very little wind, and I don't believe we can beat to windward with this water-logged craft, especially as she hasn't any maintopsail. Run forward, boys, and let go the fore-top-gallant halyards, and then try to haul up the foresail. I'll have to come, though, and show you where the ropes are."