But let us go; I suppose

"You see how mercurial Victor is, Miss Harz. it will be a pretty sight." And we proceeded together to the theatre of action.

The library, a large room, had been divided by a green baize curtain, and there were seats for a goodly audience. We had not long to wait for the first scene and syllable of the charade, heralded as such by Mr. Gregory, the prompter, disguised in an Oriental costume, as far, at least, as such marked individuality as he possessed could be travestied.

THE FIRST SCENE

represented a group of young girls dressed in the Greek costume, bearing wreaths of myrtle, which each one held high above her head, so as to present it fully to the audience, while they stood linked in a circle significant of the syllable that commenced the words.

MUSIC.

"Oh! where 's the slave so lowly."
Curtain falls.

SCENE SECOND.

heralded by Mr. Gregory, or the prompter, as an interlude expressive of what was to follow, not of a syllable at all, yet important to the sense of the charade.

MUSIC.

"I'll watch for thee from my lonely bower."

A lonely chamber is represented, in which a taper burns low, beside a couch draped in white. A figure of Cupid fills a niche above it, and a girl dressed in the robes of a priestess, and crowned with myrtle and roses, while she holds a nestling dove to her bosom, stands beside it in a graceful attitude, eager, watchful, expectant.

Beautiful indeed, with her long, white, floating drapery and veil, and pale and perfect face, seemed Marion. Suddenly the roaring of the storm is heard without. She starts, approaches the long window (giving on the gallery, be it remembered, but supposed to overlook the ocean), loosens her dove (a tame, white pigeon very glad to escape), then wildly clasping her hands, rushes after it into the outer darkness.

Curtain falls.

SCENE THIRD.

announced by the prompter as containing three syllables, and all the gist of the performance."

MUSIC.

"Farewell, farewell to thee, Araby's daughter,"

and the song of Ariel, in three voices, slightly altered for the occasion,

"Full fathom five thy lover lies."

SCENE THIRD.

Same apartment; the figure of a young man is seen lying on the white couch surrounded by veiled figures, plunged in grief. A winding-sheet covers his insensible form, revealing alone his head, with his dripping hair, bare feet and arms, the last hanging loosely to the floor. We recognize the delicate and heroic features of Mr. Vernon, who plays the part of "drowned, drowned," to perfection.

Suddenly the priestess returns bearing a cresset in her hand, and shading her eyes as if emerging from storm and darkness. She enters through the window, dishevelled, haggard, agonized - her wreath and veil partly torn away her hair hanging about her shoulders. She approaches the couch wildly, staggers back, drops the lamp she holds (which gives forth a faint perfume in dying, like burning sandal-wood), raises her hands to heaven, then falls forward fainting at the foot of the couch.

MUSIC.

Curtain falls.

"The dead march in Saul."

SCENE FOURTH [THE END].

A solemn procession of veiled virgins, bearing a bier, covered with white and preceded by the High-Priest of Venus (whom we recognize at a glance as Major Favrand), bearing an oleander branch, which he waves solemnly above the dead. He then pauses and in most expressive pantomime explains to the spectators the manner in which the youthful couple met their fate,— the one by the overwhelming billows, the other by leaping into the sea from her tower. After which, again flourishing his branch, he signifies the word,

OLEANDER.

Here ends the account of the New Year's festivities at Beauseincourt. Here also endeth our farce, and now beginneth our tragedy.

ELIZA ANN DUPUY.

ISS DUPUY, one of the pioneer authors of the South, and perhaps

Dupuy who led the band of Huguenot exiles to the banks of James river. Colonel Dupuy's grave is still exhibited in the old church whose ruins consecrate the ancient site of Jamestown. Her maternal grandfather was Captain Joel Sturdevant, who raised a company at his own expense, and fought gallantly throughout the war of the Revolution. Miss Dupuy is also related by blood to the Watkins family of Virginia. She is thus by birth related to the best and oldest families in the "Old Dominion". a fact she has never forgotten, but has kept carefully her escutcheon clean in all the vicissitudes of a varied life. One of her best novels is founded on the story of "The Huguenot Exiles;" many of the incidents therein are drawn from family tradition. Miss Dupuy was born in Petersburg, Va. After the death of her father, her family experienced heavy reverses of fortune, and this girl, then a handsome, stately, dark-haired maiden, with a spirit worthy of her lineage, stepped boldly forward to aid in the support of her younger brother and sister. She was competent to teach. She became a governess in the family of Mr. Thomas G. Ellis, of Natchez, where she had charge of the education of his daughter, now known as the author of several books, publishing under the name of "Filia.” Miss Dupuy found a pleasant home here, where she was thrown continually into the society of such women as Eleanor and Catherine Ware, and such men as S. S. Prentiss, John Ross, Boyd, and Bingaman. Natchez at that time boasted a brilliant circle of wit and intellect, and the handsome young governess, with her dignified reserve and noble pride, was one of its ornaments. Miss Dupuy began to write very early. While at Natchez she wrote the "Conspirator," and read it aloud to her little circle of friends and admirers. Eleanor Ware and she used to have grand literary symposiums, where they would read their productions to each other and to gentle Mrs. Ellis, who

sympathized warmly in their tastes, and little "Filia" would often hide in a corner to listen. Miss Dupuy was badly treated about one of her novels, which she loaned to Prof. Ingraham, who was then a wild and unprincipled man. He afterward became a man eminent in virtue and religion, and wrote “The Prince of the House of David,” etc.; but at this time he was a reckless man, though considered very gifted. He took Miss Dupuy's manuscript and never returned it to her; afterward he worked it up into a book, which he called "Lafitte, the Pirate of the Gulf."

With some difficulty Miss Dupuy succeeded in getting her "Conspirator" published. It is a story of the conspiracy of Aaron Burr. It was very successful, -over 25,000 copies of this novel have been sold. She now devoted much of her time to writing, and gradually was enabled to give up the irksome confinement of a teacher's life. She taught after this in a "Country Neighborhood," near Natchez, where she wrote her novel of that name. She has written constantly ever since. She was unfortunate in the failure of her publisher and the consequent loss of her copyrights, which would have supplied her now with a handsome income. She has always been wonderfully industrious, a patient worker, and very exacting of herself. She labors usually about four hours every morning, and her MSS. are only corrected when sent to the printer. Her physical health has been firm and vigorous, else she could never have endured such a drain upon her mental powers. She is a tall, large, nobly developed woman, with healthy nerves. -meus sana in corpore sano. She has always been calm, firm, simple, but reticent in nature and deportment,woman everywhere respected and often much beloved. She has preserved her friends through life unchanged. She is a friend in the rainy days of existence as well as in sunshine - immaculate, pure, highprincipled and companionable; her features are large and well moulded, Greek in outline; her eyes blue; and her hair, which was very abundant in early womanhood, rippling and satiny, fell in ebon waves, a flood of tresses, below her knee. She wore it usually in a broad, heavy braid around her head, like a diadem, while a multitude of ringlets streamed over her cheeks; the crown of hair a coiffure not unsuited to her large head and stately frame. She moves softly and tranquilly, but decidedly. Her voice is sweet and pleasing in tone, but distinct and clear in its low articulation. Miss Dupuy is the sole support of a brother who is blind from amaurosis, and she herself

a

now suffers from a weakness of the eyes, which may end in the same disease. She has been engaged for several years past in writing for Bonner's "Ledger." She is bound by contract to furnish Mr. Bonner with a thousand pages annually. She is really a literateur by profession, and an honest and faithful one. In consequence, she improves in her writings. She is faithful to her art. Her recent novel of “The Evil Genius," furnished to the Ledger, is regarded by many persons as the best of her numerous writings. It is very difficult to make a selection from such abundant material, and scarcely necessary, as Miss Dupuy's novels are so generally popular.

She resides now at Flemingsburg, Kentucky.

She says, in a letter to a friend, these remarkable words, in answer to a question: "As a Southern woman, I would sooner have thrust my hand in a blazing fire, as the Roman youth did, than have taken a pen in it, to throw discredit on my own people."

None who ever knew her intimately, could conceive of Miss Dupuy's failing in any duty, toward God, or friends, or country.

The following is a list of the novels furnished to the "New York Ledger": "The Lost Deeds," " Mysterious Marriage," "White Terror," "Outlaw's Bride," "Life Curse," "Warning Voice," "Secret Chamber," "Family Secret," "Lady of Ashhurst," "Fatal Error," "Evil Genius," and "The Dead Heart;" and she has published in book-form," Merton; a Tale of the Revolution," "The Conspirator," "Emma Walton, or Trials and Triumphs," "The Country Neighborhood," "Celeste, or The Pirate's Daughter," "The Separation," "The Divorce," "The Coquette's Punishment," "Florence, or The Fatal Vow," "The Concealed Treasure," " Ashleigh," "The Planter's Daughter," and "The Huguenot Exiles."

LINDA MUNROE'S STORY.

Here Lenox lost no time in perusing the brief manuscript left by Linda Munroe, which ran as follows:

“Until I attained the age of twenty-five, I believed myself the legitimate daughter of a man of wealth. I was reared amidst the most lavish indulgence, and my father, who was indifferent to everything else, seemed to regard me with pride and affection.