"Why, you see, I can't, somehow, make out the first part; but the last word spells gin, as slick as a tallow whistle—I say, strannger, ye haint got nothin o' no small-sized piccaiune about ye, have ye?"—We threw our intelligent informant, who was no doubt some stray prodigal son from old Kentuck or down east—though his ignorance of the art of reading belied his country—the required fee for his information, and continued our ride. We were now quite out of the city; the noble Mississippi rolled proudly toward the sea on our right, its banks unrelieved by a single vessel:—while on our left, embowered in shrubbery, public and private buildings lined the road, which wound pleasantly along the level borders of the river.
Shortly after leaving the Lyceum, we noticed on our left, at some distance from the road, a large building, of more respectable appearance and dimensions than the last. A sign here too informed us, whatever our ingenious literary sign-reader might have rendered it, that there was the "College Washington." Our information respecting this institution was in every respect as satisfactory as that which we had obtained concerning the Lyceum. Not an individual urchin, or grave instructer, was to be seen at the windows, or within the precincts. Its halls were silent and deserted. I have made inquiries, since I returned, of old residents, respecting it. No one knows any thing of it. Some may have heard there was such a college. Some may even have seen the sign, in passing: but the majority learned for the first time, from my inquiries, that there was such an institution in existence. So we are all equally wise respecting it. Passing beautiful cottages, partially hidden in foliage, tasteful villas, and deserted mansions, alternately, our attention was attracted by a pretty residence, far from the road, at the extremity of an extensive grass-plat, void of shrub or any token of horticultural taste. Had the grounds been ornamented, like all others in the vicinity, with shrubbery, it would have been one of the loveliest residences on the road; but, as it was, its aspect was dreary. We were informed that it was the residence of the British consul; but he seems to have left his national passion for ornamental gardening, shrubbery walks, and park-like grounds, at home; denying himself their luxurious shade and agreeable beauty, in a climate where, alone, they are really necessary for comfort—where the cool covert of a thickly foliaged tree is as great a luxury to a northerner, as a welling fountain in the desert to the fainting Arab.
In a short ride from the residence of the consul, we arrived opposite to the Ursuline convent, a very large and handsome two-story edifice, with a high Spanish roof, heavy cornices, deep windows, half concealed by the foliage of orange and lemon trees, and stuccoed, in imitation of rough white marble. Three other buildings, of the same size, extended at the rear of this main building, forming three sides of the court of the convent, of which area this formed the fourth, each building fronting within upon the court, as well as without. There are about seventy young ladies pursuing a course of education here—some as boarders, and others as day scholars. The boarders are kept very rigidly. They are permitted to leave the convent, to visit friends in the city, if by permission of parents, but once a month. None are allowed to see them, unless they first obtain written permission, from the parents or guardians of the young ladies.
As my friend had an errand at the convent, we called. Proceeding down a long avenue to the portal on the right side of the grounds, we entered, and applied our riding whips to the door for admission. We were questioned by an unseen querist, as to our business there, as are all visiters. The voice issued from a tin plate, perforated with innumerable little holes, and resembling a colander fixed in the wall, on one side of the entrance. If the visiters give a good account of themselves, and can show good cause why they should speak with any of the young ladies, they are told to open the door at the left; whereupon, they find themselves in a long, dimly-lighted apartment, without any article of furniture, except a backless form. Three sides of this room are like any other—but, the fourth is open to the inner court, and latticed from the ceiling to the floor, like a summer-house. Approaching the lattice, the visiter, by placing his eye to the apertures, has a full view of the interior, and the three inner fronts of the convent. A double cloister extends above and below, and around the whole court; where the young ladies may be seen walking, studying, or amusing themselves. She, for whom the visiter has inquired, now approaches the grate demurely by the side of one of the elderly ladies of the sisterhood; and the visiter, placing his lips to an aperture, as to the mouth of a speaking trumpet, must address her, and thus carry on his conversation; while the elder nun stands within earshot, that peradventure she may thereby be edified.
The young ladies are here well and thoroughly educated;—even dancing is not prohibited, and is taught by a professor from the city. The religious exercises of the convent are of course Roman Catholic; but no farther than the daily routine of formal religious services, are the tenets of their faith inculcated upon the minds of the pupils. Some Protestant young ladies, allured by the romantic and imposing character of the Catholic religion, embrace it: but a few years after leaving the convent, are generally sufficient to efface their new faith and bring them back to the religion of their childhood. But the instances are very rare in which a Protestant becomes a religieuse, or leaves the convent a Catholic: though a great portion of the young ladies under the charge of the Ursuline sisterhood are of Protestant parentage.
The remainder of our ride was past orange gardens and French villas, so like all we had passed nearer the city, that they presented no variety; after riding a mile below the convent, we turned our horses' heads back to the city, and in less than an hour arrived at our hotel just in time to sit down to one of Bishop's sumptuous dinners.
XIX.
Battle-ground—Scenery on the road—A peaceful scene—American and British quarters—View of the field of battle—Breastworks—Oaks—Packenham—A Tennessee rifleman—Anecdote—A gallant British officer—Grape-shot—Young traders—A relic—Leave the ground—A last view of it from the Levée.