In this way her future husband is spared to her. The ways of Providence are indeed mysterious. At this time her mother will talk with her. She will offer philosophy. She will tell her she was married herself. But what is this new and ravishing light that breaks upon her? The toilet and wedding clothes! She is in a new sphere. She makes out her list in her own charming writing. Here it is. Let every mother heed it.* * * * * * * * * * * She is married. On the day after, she meets her old lover, Hippolyte. He is again transported. * The delicate reader will appreciate the omission of certain articles for which English synonymes are forbidden. VII. HER OLD AGE. A Frenchwoman never grows old. MARY MCGILLUP. A SOUTHERN NOVEL. AFTER BELLE BOYD. WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY G. A. S--LA. INTRODUCTION. "Will you write me up?" The scene was near Temple Bar. The speaker was the famous rebel Mary McGillup,--a young girl of fragile frame, and long, lustrous black hair. I must confess that the question was a peculiar one, and, under the circumstances, somewhat puzzling. It was true I had been kindly treated by the Northerners, and, though prejudiced against them, was to some extent under obligations to them. It was true that I knew little or nothing of American politics, history, or geography. But when did an English writer ever weigh such trifles? Turning to the speaker, I inquired with some caution the amount of pecuniary compensation offered for the work. "Sir!" she said, drawing her fragile form to its full height, "you insult me,--you insult the South." "But look ye here, d'ye see--the tin--the blunt--the ready--the stiff; you know. Don't ye see, we can't do without that, you know!" "It shall be contingent on the success of the story," she answered haughtily. "In the mean time take this precious gem." And drawing a diamond ring from her finger, she placed it with a roll of MSS. in my hands and vanished. Although unable to procure more than L1 2s. 6 d. from an intelligent pawnbroker to whom I stated the circumstances and with whom I pledged the ring, my sympathies with the cause of a downtrodden and chivalrous people were at once enlisted. I could not help wondering that in rich England, the home of the oppressed and the free, a young and lovely woman like the fair author of those pages should be obliged to thus pawn her jewels--her marriage gift--for the means to procure her bread! With the exception of the English aristocracy,--who much resemble them,--I do not know of a class of people that I so much admire as the Southern planters. May I become better acquainted with both!