As you may not know what is meant by the "_Boulevards_," I will tell you. They are wide roads, or streets, edged with spreading umbrageous elms, and formerly _bounded_ the city, but now, from its increase in size, they are _within_ it. Their appellation of "Boulevards" is derived from "bouler sur le vert," to "bowl upon the green"--being once covered with turf, and the frequent scene of playing at bowls. Here, nightly, the citizens forget the cares and labors of the day, and resign themselves to pleasure and mirth. Rows of chairs, owned and placed there by poor persons, may be hired for two sous a piece. Adieu. LEONTINE. For the Southern Literary Messenger. BURNING OF THE RICHMOND THEATRE. The following lines are from the pen of a venerable lady of Virginia, widow of one of the patriots of the revolution. They were written in 1812, shortly after the conflagration, and are now for the first time published. What is this world? thy school, oh misery! Our only lesson is to learn to suffer, And they who know not _that_ were born for nothing. [_Young's Night Thoughts_. Whence the wild wail of agonizing woe That heaves each breast, and bids each eye o'erflow? Ah, me! amid the all involving gloom That wrapt the victims of terrific doom, While _palsied fancy_ casts an anguish'd glance, What _phrenzied_ spectres to my view advance! Appalled nature shrinks--my harrowed soul Dares not the direful scene of death unrol; Yet o'er the friends she loved the muse would mourn, And weep for others' sorrows and her own; To their sad obsequies would _grateful_ pay The heartfelt tribute of a mourning lay. And lo! through the dark horrors of the night, What form revered now rushes on my sight! Ye blasting flames, oh spare the cheek of age! Ah, heaven! they with redoubled fury rage! Yet undismay'd she view'd the fiery flood, Resign'd amid the desolation stood-- To God alone address'd her feeble cry, Oh! save my child, and willingly I die! Approving heaven propitious heard her prayer, To bliss receiv'd her, and preserv'd her care. Oh, long lov'd friend! oh, much lamented Page! How did thy goodness every heart engage-- How oft for _me_ thy generous tears have flow'd, What kind attention still thy love bestow'd; When sickness mourn'd or sorrow heav'd a sigh, Thy useful aid benignant still was nigh; The best of neighbors, and the truest friend, O'er thy sad urn disconsolate we bend. Heardst thou that shriek? the accent of despair! The mother's deep felt agony was there: My only hope, Louisa, art thou gone? Is thy pure spirit to thy Maker flown? Oh! take me too! the mourner frantic cries, When such friends part _'tis the survivor_ dies! She was my all--so gentle, good, and kind; Then she is blest, and be thy heart resign'd! And see, of sympathy, alas! the theme, In woes experience'd, and in griefs supreme!