demolished cottage was a part of the place described in the last scene of the poem."

The almshouse on Spruce Street and the quaint little building on Walnut Place having been destroyed prior to Mr. Longfellow's visit to Philadelphia in 1876, the only individual who could speak authoritatively upon the subject was unable to decide the matter. Consequently, the readers of the poem are perfectly free to form their own opinions and locate for themselves the pathetic scene when Evangeline, after her long quest in search of her lover, enters the hospital ward with flowers in her hands, the bloom of the morning in her face, to see Gabriel lying there, " motionless, senseless, dying." The Quaker Almshouse, covered with ivy and trumpet-flowers, and surrounded by its beds of herbs and flowers, certainly furnished a more picturesque setting for the last and most dramatic scene in the poem than did the Spruce Street building; yet Mr. Longfellow's description seems to apply better to the more spacious grounds of the latter, as he speaks of entering through the gates, of wandering

through the grounds and sitting under the large trees with the poor, listening to their stories of the life within. These expressions were used in after-years in speaking to Mr. Burr of his visit to Philadelphia in 1824, when the almshouse and its surroundings so impressed themselves upon his mind that they recurred to him later when he wrote his poem, and led him to place the final scene

"In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware's waters."

Dr. Charles K. Mills, in his history of the Philadelphia Almshouse, says that there is no question in his mind that this was the spot visited by Mr. Longfellow in 1824.

"As it was in 1755 that the French Acadians of Grand Pré-nineteen hundred peaceful, happy souls-were dispossessed of their homes and began their wanderings, the event idealized by the poet can probably be referred to the epidemic of yellow fever in 1793, and to the almshouse building at Tenth and Spruce Streets, first occupied in 1767.”

As there is no proof to bring forward,

the poet's mind naturally being much more intent upon the romantic story of the Acadians and the broader outlines of his poem than upon definite localities, the surroundings of the last scene in the drama are still left in the nebulous region of uncertainty, which is the most appropriate setting for a romance. With regard to the burial-place of the lovers there can be no question, for, as Mr. Esling clearly demonstrates, the only spot that answers to Mr. Longfellow's description is "the little church down the alley."

"Side by side, in their nameless grave, the lovers are sleeping.

Under the humble walls of the little Catholic churchyard,

In the heart of the city, they lie."

So in the Catholic church of St. Joseph's, set like a mosaic in the midst of dingy alleys and high buildings, we leave the dear, constant old lovers to sleep their last sleep. Little did they dream that their obscure love-story would lead so many clever people to talk about them, nor would it, had

not the hand of the poet touched it with the magic of his genius.

Two heroines who lived, not in the misty realm of fiction, but in the clear, bright light of day, were Flora Macdonald and Rebecca Gratz, The former, from the moment that she appears upon the pages of history with her heroic offer of service"Since I am to die, and can die but once, I am perfectly willing to put my life in jeopardy to save his Royal Highness"to the hour of her death, when she was still loyal to the memory of Prince Charlie, presents a character of singular frankness, courage, and devotion. After the escape of the prince who seemed so unworthy of the lives risked in his defence, Flora Macdonald was taken prisoner and carried to London. When it transpired that the Scotch maiden was not a Jacobite, but simply a devoted child of monarchy, she was courted and feted by the nobility, and even granted an audience by George II. "How dared you to succor the enemy of my crown and kingdom?" was the disconcerting query of the king, to which

Flora replied, without embarrassment, "It was no more than I would have done for your Majesty, had you been in like situation."

During her sojourn in London, where her life was a round of festivities, Flora's portrait was painted for Commodore Smith, whose sloop had conveyed her to the metropolis as a prisoner. Later she left London in a coach-and-four, in company with Malcolm Macleod, a fellow-conspirator, and five years after married one of her own clansmen, Allan Macdonald, the young Laird of Kingsburgh, whose mother had aided in the escape of the prince. Flora became mistress of the mansion in which Charles Edward had passed his first night on the Isle of Skye. Here, in 1773, Mrs. Macdonald entertained Dr. Johnson and Mr. Boswell, the Highland hostess being described by the latter as "a little woman, of a genteel appearance and uncommonly mild and well-bred." Later, Mr. Boswell records that he slept at the Macdonalds' in the same room with Dr. Johnson, and had the pleasure of seeing the great lexi