well for her attendant dwarf. Jenny was small of her age and had elfish ways. Her peculiarities of appearance were heightened on this occasion by Costume: she sported a large white apron with a wide ruffle, much too long for her, really borrowed from Betsy for the purpose of adornment; a white handkerchief tied on her head, turban-fashion, tall as a dervish's cap, a long strand of blue glass beads around her neck, a pair of immense gold ear-rings, and her broadest and widest grins. "This way, Lucian, this way,' said Margaret; 'not up the staircase;" leading him, as she spoke, beneath the flight of stairway which led up into the gallery of the first story. Margaret led him then through a hall level with the ground, paved with black and white marble, which ran under the arch of the stairways. Here they all are, in here. You know this is such a queer old Spanish house! You'll soon find out all about it, though it is puzzling at first.' "The newly arrived guest was kindly received by Mr. Laurie and Annie, Were sitting alone near a blazing wood fire in the family parlor. The were too chilly for the blind man, even for that early period of the fall. Come to the fire, Lucian,' he said; 'one gets cool riding, and this old who nights house of Guyoso's is damp as a basement, almost.' "Lucian looked around with some curiosity at the rather old-fashioned, quaint furnishing of the apartment they were sitting in it. It was handsome, but not new. On the wall just opposite hung the portrait of a man in full armor—a dark, oval face, handsome and swarthy. Annie saw his glance. That,' she said, taking up a lamp and holding it so that the light Could fall on the picture, — 'that is a portrait of Bienville, by Champagne. Bienville was a relative of my family. Here is another of Guyoso, the Spanish Governor of Mississippi.' "Has n't he got a long nose?' interrupted Margaret, disrespectfully. ""Here's another of Stephen Minor, who was second in command under Spanish domination.' "Do you like his uniform, Lucian?' asked Margaret. "It is all red, with yellow facings, and see the big star on his breast!' "Here is some gold plate belonging to Vidal, that he brought from Spain to the colony. His whole dinner-service was gold-is gold, I should say; his descendants, our neighbors, still use it on grand occasions.' "And who is this?' asked Lucian, as he examined a small miniature hanging below the portrait of Bienville. "That,' said Annie, 'is a likeness of our grand-uncle, Philip Noland, who disappeared in 1807, and was never heard of again. He was a lieutenant in the navy of the United States; his wife lost her reason from grief at his prolonged absence. She had just been married - was barely more than a child in years at the time she eloped with and married Philip against the will of her family. We have some of his letters still extant. He seems to have been an intellectual, but not a good man, from all I can learn. His wife still survives; she is over sixty years old now, and has been harmlessly insane since she was sixteen. She lives here, Lucian, in one wing of the house. You may probably see her. Though she is constantly attended by a faithful nurse, and can rarely be persuaded to quit her room, or even her couch, sometimes she becomes restless and wanders over the house: her mind is usually in a mazed state. We do not confine her at all; it has never been necessary; we only watch her; she goes where she likes usually. Patty is always with her, but Aunt Jane is so old she does not want to go about much; she dislikes strangers. It is one never-ceasing cry from her lips after her husband. No matter what she may be talking about, in a little while she begins to moan for Philip and ask where he is-to wonder that he does not come. "Philip stays so long! he never used to," is her constant cry. To think that has been going on for fifty years! The love of the woman has survived everything-youth, beauty, reason. Human hearts are fearful things to play or trifle with."" M MRS. MARIE BUSHNELL WILLIAMS. RS. M. B. WILLIAMS is a native of Baton Rouge, La. Her father, Judge Charles Bushnell, came to this State from Massachusetts within the first decade after the purchase of Louisiana had been accomplished, and in due time married into a Creole family of substantial endowments and high repute. Judge Bushnell was well and favorably known at the bar of Louisiana. He was a gentleman of great legal erudition; but, though devoted to his profession, he found time to cultivate the general branches of literature, and to participate in their elegant enjoyments.. His favorite daughter, Marie, early manifested a studious disposition. She was a fair, bright-eyed, spiritual girl, of more than ordinary promise. Though slight in figure, she was compactly formed. Her features were cast in nature's finest mould, and her clear dark eye and smooth fair brow were radiant with intellectual light. When this description would apply to Miss Bushnell, she became the élève of Alexander Dimitry, whose fame as a scholar has since become world-wide. The management of a pupil so richly dowered with God's best gifts was a pleasing task to the professor, and he soon imparted to her not only the fresh instruction which she required, but a deep and profound reverence for learning akin to that which he felt himself. This relation of teacher and scholar continued for several years, and was not severed till Miss Bushnell became a complete mistress of when they were all the principal modern languages. Indeed, the range of her studies was quite extended, and we hazard very little in saying that she was, completed, the most learned woman in America. At length, when she had rounded into perfect womanhood, physi cally as well as mentally, the honor of an alliance with her was soughtby many of the proudest and wealthiest gentlemen of Louisiana. The successful suitor proved to be Josiah P. Williams, a planter of Rapides, and from the date of her marriage, in 1843, she resided near Alexandria, on Red River, with the exception of a brief experience of refugeelife in Texas when the war was at its height, until 1869, when she removed to Opelousas, La. As a wife, and the mother of an interesting family of children, Mrs. Williams performed her whole duty. But though the domestic virtues found in her a true exponent, they by no means lessened her interest in literary pursuits. For her own amusement and that of a choice coterie of literary friends-her constant visitors-she was accustomed to weave together legends of Louisiana, both in prose and verse, which soon established her reputation among those who were ad mitted into the charmed circle. She, however, had no fancy for the plaudits of the world. For years she refused to appear in print, but when at length a few of her articles found their way into literary journals, she was at once admitted to an assured position among 8 as a singer and a teacher. With a vast fund of acquired knowl judges as a edge; a mind original, philosophic, and sympathetic; a fancy at once brilliant and beautifully simple, added to a mastery of language when force of style was found necessary, and an easy, happy facility in all the lighter phases of literary effort,-Mrs. M. B. Williams will yet, when the world knows her merits and does her justice, take her place among the first of the distinguished women of America. We have not before us any complete list of the productions of her pen, nor shall we attempt any critical analysis of those specimens which are to follow this article. They shall be left to the good taste and judgment of our readers, with a full confidence that they cannot fail to please. We shall merely say, in conclusion, that Mrs. Williams suffered severely by the reverses which marked the latter years of the "lost cause." The death of her husband was her first great sorrow: the destruction of her beautiful residence, "The Oaks," by the vandal followers of Banks in his Red River raid; the wounding of one son; the untimely death of another; the material misfortunes which reduced her from affluence to poverty,- all followed in such disheartening succession, that few indeed could have borne up under such a series of calamities. But her faith was strong. She could look religiously through the storms of the present into the calm and glory of that peace which is to come. Few have ever met reverses with greater fortitude, or fought the battle of life more bravely. For years past she has been a constant and valued contributor to the New Orleans "Sunday Times," and while her writings have proved her a brilliant thinker, they show no traces of egotistic grief. The sorrows by which she has been surrounded are mourned by her only as sorrows common to the whole desolated South. Mrs. Williams has in preparation, to be published in a volume, "Tales and Legends of Louisiana," in a lyrical poema poem which we hope will introduce her talents to the whole country, making her name familiar as a "household word." As a translator from the French, German, and Spanish, Mrs. Williams is deservedly successful, her translations from the German language being very felicitous and faithful. 1868. MARK F. BIGNEY. PLEASANT HILL. Roll my chair in the sunlight, Ninetta, See the golden-hued wreaths of the jasmine, How the notes of the mocking-bird, ringing Ah! beauty and music and gladness, The breeze, in its pure balmy freshness, Seems fanned from some bright angel's wing. Look yonder and see, little daughter, Nay, then, turn not aside, my Ninetta; For he loved them, the flowers and sunshine, Ah! just there, where that laurel is glancing, And I saw him, my darling, my treasure, I could see the proud sweep of his banner, Ah! he led them, how bravely, Ninetta! His voice, with its silver tones, pealed Through the hurtling storm of the battle. As it swept o'er the blood-streaming field. I watched a strange wavering movement, There he lies now, my sunny-haired darling, Ah! watching his sorrowful mother, That his heart's crimson life-tide had moistened |