Welsh coracle and “the rotten carcase of a boat” in which Antonio and the King of Naples turned Prospero and Miranda adrift. Rowing this leaky curiosity with forked sticks, three picked adventurers reached the main island--only to return without reaching the depôt. Another boat, and yet another, had to be built before a second transit could be achieved; and when the second crossing was effected, the coracle sank as the rowers scrambled on shore. This, however, completed the catalogue of their disasters, and was “the last of their sea-sorrow.” The depôt was reached in September, and in the boat found there the tenants of Disappointment Island were removed to comfort and good feeding at Port Ross. With the help of an old gun they did some cattle-shooting on Enderby Island hard by, and in the end were taken off by the Government steamer _Hinemoa_ in December. Campbell Island, another habitable though sad-coloured spot, is a kind of understudy of the Aucklands--like them, but smaller, with less striking scenery and scantier plant life. It has, however, a local legend odd enough to be worth repeating. In the hodden-grey solitude there are certain graves of shipwrecked men and others. Among them is one called the Grave of the Frenchwoman. On the strength of this name, and of a patch of Scottish heather blooming near it, a tale has grown up, or been constructed, which would be excellent and pathetic if there were the slightest reason to suppose it true. It is that the Frenchwoman who sleeps her last sleep in rainy Campbell Island was a natural daughter of Charles Edward, the Young Pretender. She has even been identified with the daughter of Prince Charles and Clementina Walkenshaw, the Scottish lady who met him at Bannockburn House in the ’45, and long afterwards joined him abroad. This daughter--says the New Zealand story--became, when she grew up, an object of suspicion to the Prince’s Jacobite followers. They believed that she was a spy in the pay of the English Court. So they induced Stewart, a Scottish sea-captain, to kidnap the girl and carry her to some distant land. Stewart--whose name remains on our Stewart Island--did his work as thoroughly as possible by sailing with her to the antipodes of France. On the way he gained her affections, and established her at Campbell Island, where she died and was buried. Such is the story; sentiment has even been expended on the connection between Bonnie Prince Charlie and the patch of heather aforesaid.