child of her sorrow, of feeling its lips upon her bosom, of hearing its feeble cry—­alone, unvisited of its unnatural father; and then in a few days—­just when the mother’s affections are strongest, and the first smile of her infant compensates for the pangs of the past—­the scaffold and the hangman!  Think of the last terrible scene,—­the tearing of the infant from her arms, the death-march to the gallows, the rope around her delicate neck, and her long and dreadful struggles, (for, attenuated and worn by physical suffering and mental sorrow, her slight frame had not sufficient weight left to produce the dislocation of her neck on the falling of the drop,) swinging there alive for nearly half an hour—­a spectacle for fiends in the shape of humanity!  Mothers of New England! such are the fruits of slavery.  Oh! in the name of the blessed God, teach your children to hate it, and to pity its victims.  Petty politicians and empty-headed Congress debators are vastly concerned, lest the ‘honour of the country’ should be compromised in the matter of the Oregon Boundary.  Fools!  One such horrible atrocity as this murder of poor Pauline ‘compromises’ us too deeply to warrant any further display of their patriotism.  It would compromise Paradise itself!  An intelligent and philanthropic European gentleman, who was in New Orleans at the time of the execution, in a letter to a friend in this vicinity, after detailing the circumstances of the revolting affair, exclaims, ’God of goodness!  God of justice!  There must be a future state to redress the wrongs of this.  I am almost tempted to say—­there must be a future state, or no God!’”

On Saturday, the 30th, we set off to seek private lodgings.  Led by a board having on it in large letters the words “Private Boarding,” we “inquired within,” found what we wanted, and engaged for eight dollars per week each.  We then went to pay our bill at the “St. Charles’s,” and to bring away our carpet-bag.  We had been there two nights, had had one dinner, two teas, and two breakfasts.  These meals, as we did not like to join the hundreds at the “ordinary,” were served to us (in a very ordinary way however) in our bedroom.  In fact, the waiting was miserably done.  And yet for this we had the pleasure of paying eleven dollars,—­say L2. 6s.!  We gladly bade adieu to the “St. Charles’s.”  It suited neither our taste nor our pocket.  Nevertheless, it is a magnificent concern.  The edifice was finished in 1838 by a company, and cost 600,000 dollars.  The gentlemen’s dining-room is 129 feet by 50, and is 22 feet high; having four ranges of tables, capable of accommodating 500 persons.  The ladies’ dining-room is 52 feet by 36.  The house contains 350 rooms, furnishing accommodation for between 600 and 700 guests; and it was quite full when we were there.  The front is adorned with a projecting portico, supported by six fine Corinthian columns, resting upon a rustic basement.  The edifice is crowned with a large dome, forty-six feet in diameter, having a beautiful Corinthian turret on the top.  This dome is the most conspicuous object in the city.  Viewed from a distance, it seems to stand in the same relation to New Orleans as St. Paul’s to London.  The furniture of this immense establishment cost 150,000 dollars.  A steam-engine, producing a very disagreeable tremor, is constantly at work in the culinary department.