up her abode with a private family, on her parole of honour. The terms of this honourable captivity she never infringed, and she was not brought before a public tribunal. In July of the year following, an act of indemnity was passed by Parliament in favour of all prisoners implicated in the rebellion, and she was consequently released from all further restrictions on her liberty. From her humble seclusion she at once entered into the fashionable circles of London, where she was the observed of all observers. Upon the invitation of Dowager Lady Primrose, Flora resided at her house in town, where crowds of visitors in their carriages came to pay their regards to the "Deliverer of Charles the Pretender.” Not only did her admirers show their interest in her by empty phrases, but they set on foot a subscription, to be presented as a substantial testimonial, which in the end amounted to fifteen hundred pounds. In addition to these marks of admiration, she had numerous good offers of marriage, all of which were politely declined. Where, under ordinary circumstances, the head of a young lady of twenty-six would have been turned by all this adulation in the metropolis of England among its aristocratic circles, the good sense and sound principles of Flora Macdonald prevailed. She expressed herself as being surprised that so much should be made out of what she had done in the cause of humanity to save the life of a persecuted prince; and she longed to return again to her Highland home, now that she was free from all obligations of captivity. Accordingly she returned to her mother's residence at Armadale, in the Isle of Skye, carrying with her the handsome token raised by her English adınirers. There she remained for three years, occupied in domestic duties, and, as it now appears, writing out details of her fashionable life at Lady Primrose's, in London,

There she again mingled in the society of her Jacobite friends and relatives, and delighted in visiting Kingsburgh, where the prince had been so loyally protected and entertained. She married the son and heir of her worthy kinsman of that house, in 1750, and who succeeded to the estate on his father's demise not long afterwards, so that Flora was installed as mistress of the mansion where her sympathies were centred. It would appear, however, that as a family grew around her and her husband, they deemed it prudent to leave their home in Skye and emigrate to America, to better their own and their children's fortunes. They had not been long settled in North Carolina when the war of independence broke out, and her husband being loyally disposed, became an officer in the local regiment raised to support the cause of the mother country. When that contest ended, his corps was disbanded, and he, with his wife and family, returned to the land of their forefathers. Strange to say, that notwithstanding her sympathies for the cause of the Jacobites, Flora Macdonald became entirely reconciled to the House of Hanover in after-life, and five of her sons entered as officers into the British army. But still her devotion to the Prince whom she had so signally served in time of peril was strong even in death, which happened at the age of seventy. gave instructions before she died that the sheet whereon the Prince Charles Stuart had slept at Kingsburgh, which she had religiously preserved during her wanderings,-should be her shroud in the grave. Her request was complied with by her husband, who did not long survive her loss. To this day the tomb of Flora Macdonald in the Kingsburgh mausoleum of Kilmuir churchyard, attracts visitors from all parts of the world, where her name and fame have been upheld as a rare example of

She

courage, fidelity, and heroism, for more than a century, and doubtless will continue to be for many centuries to come.

Mrs Elizabeth Fry,

THE REFORMER OF FEMALE PRISON DISCIPLINE.

PERHAPS the finest trait in the character of woman is when she becomes a ministering angel to her fellow-creatures when suffering the consequences of their own folly. It is then that she displays the unselfishness of her nature in consoling the wretched, and pouring balm into wounded souls who are in despair. Not only has her healing influence been felt in soothing the physical sufferings of mankind, but she has carried the comforts of moral and religious conIsolation with marvellous effect into the hearts of the most forlorn. Towards the male sex these gentle characteristics have been exercised in a multitude of instances, that redound to the fame of womankind in all times and countries. Tales are numerous of how she has succoured the wounded on the battlefield, at the risk of her life, and how she has even sacrificed her life in defence of those she loved. Towards her own sex the woman of superior nature has at all times shown the greatest sympathy, and when it was necessary to protect the weak, she has ever been the shield of virtue. Even in the lowest depths of human misery we find her boldly overcoming the conventionalities of society, and applying her energies to alleviate and reform the condition of

her frail sisters in prison. Benevolence and piety, combined with sympathy, characterise the labours of those gems of womankind who have thus been comforters in days of distress.

We cannot better illustrate these special features in woman than by giving a brief sketch of the labours of Elizabeth Fry in improving the condition of female convicts in the prisons of the United Kingdom. With a disposition full of the purest womanly feelings, she beheld the degradation of her sex in the shameful prisons that existed fifty years ago, and with rare firmness of purpose she succeeded in changing them from dungeons of depravity to comparative schools of discipline. Before relating the manner in which her noble task was undertaken and accomplished, we shall briefly allude to her family antecedents, but without entering into the details of her early life. She was the third daughter of John Gurney, a member of the Society of Friends, and was born in Norwich on the 21st May, 1780. mother was a lady of excellent abilities, and of considerable attainments, as well as much personal beauty. She bore a large family, and planted in their young minds seeds of virtue and religion, of which they afterwards reaped the excellent fruits, though she died before many of them had attained maturity-the eldest of twelve being scarcely seventeen, the youngest not two years old. The death of Mrs Gurney had left her seven daughters, unprotected by a mother's care, to pursue the difficult path of early womanhood.

Her

Elizabeth grew up a tall, slight, graceful woman, but she was liable to severe nervous attacks, which often impeded her in joining her sisters in their objects and pursuits. In countenance she is described as having been a young woman very sweet and pleasing, with a profusion of soft flaxen hair.

She had much native grace, and to many people was very attractive; but though gentle and quiet in temper, she was self-willed and determined. In matured life this feature of youthful obstinacy, became that finely-tempered decision and firmness, which enabled her to execute her projects for the good of her fellow-creatures. Such were the circumstances and characteristics of Elizabeth Gurney after the death of her mother, and years passed on with few changes but such as come with the advance of time in the career of a young woman. During many years she devoted herself to religious studies, and canvassed with a clear judgment the peculiar tenets of the sect in which she had been nurtured. She kept a diary of the impressions and doubts she entertained, but ultimately embraced the faith of her father, and, when twenty years of age, was married to Joseph Fry, a merchant in an extensive way of business in London.

By her marriage, Mrs Fry was brought into a new sphere of life; and after many changes of residence, ultimately became a denizen of the great metropolis. It is no part of this brief episode of her life to enter into the circumstances that brought out her nature as a reformer of prison discipline, but simply to sketch the first scenes that forced themselves upon her to undertake the task. On a cold winter day in January 1813, she accompanied some friends to the prison of Newgate, to see several criminals about to be executed. On that occasion she saw three hundred women, with their numerous children, confined and crowded into four rooms, comprising about one hundred and ninety superficial yards of area. There was no classification of the delinquents; tried and untried, misdemeanants and felons, were mingled together. They appeared in rags and filth, without bedding, and slept on the bare floor; while they