Visitors at the White House during the past two or three years may retain the memory of a dignified, statuesque blonde, with a few very fine points which a fashionable butterfly once said would make any woman a belle if she only knew how to make the most of them. Mrs. Stover never became a star in fashionable circles, and now that she has left the gay capital, perhaps for a lifetime, she is remembered by those who knew her best as the charming companion of the domestic fireside, a true daughter and a judicious mother. The eldest son of Mrs. Johnson was killed. Not long after his receiving his diploma as physician, he was appointed a surgeon in the First Tennessee Infantry. One bright spring morning, starting on his rounds of professional duty in the exuberance of youth, health, and spirits, he sprang upon the horse of a brother officer. He had gone but a short distance when the high-mettled creature reared upon its hind feet suddenly; the young man was thrown backward suddenly, and falling upon the frozen earth, was instantly killed. The concussion fractured his skull. Mrs. Johnson has grieved for this son as did Jacob for his beloved Joseph, and not only the mother but the whole family have mourned with unusual poignancy his untimely death. Robert Johnson, the eldest living son, entered the army as a volunteer while still a young boy; and was given a position among the older men, on account of his father. It was at this time that he formed the fearful habit of intemperance. As soon as Mrs. Johnson was settled at the White House, she sent for this son, hoping that his responsible position as private secretary to the President and the personal influence of his sisters and herself could reclaim him; but alas! she found his new position, in its surroundings, a still heavier death weight to her hopes. Clever, genial “Bob,” the young man who had the ear of the President at any time, was everybody’s friend. A crowd followed him wherever he went. The choicest viands of Willard’s and Welcker’s were set before him, and miniature rivers were made to float with wine. Robert Johnson is now in an asylum, hoping and trying to overcome this vice. During the few months of his sojourn in Washington he provoked no enmity and left many true personal friends. Andrew Johnson, jr., the youngest child, who makes the fourth and last of Mrs. Johnson’s children, is a boy of 15, attending the college for young boys in Georgetown, D. C. He is a slender, finely formed youth, characterized by the same modest deportment usual to the family. His face bears a striking resemblance to Mrs. Patterson’s, but at present he is only noticeable on account of his family relations, and because he is the last child of his mother. Mrs. Johnson is unusually feeble at this time; but, weather permitting, she will soon leave with Mrs. Patterson for her distant home in Tennessee. OLIVIA. SENATORIAL PEN PICTURES.