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.

The South-West — Part 100

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.

The South-West — Part 100

I have just returned from a visit to the scene of American resolution and individual renown--the battle-ground of New-Orleans. The Aceldama, where one warrior-chief drove his triumphal car over the grave of another--the field of "fame and of glory" from which the "hero of two wars" plucked the chaplet which encircles his brow, and the _éclat_ which has elevated him to a throne!--

The South-West — Part 100

The field of battle lies between five and six miles below the city, on the left bank, on the New-Orleans side of the river. The road conducting us to it, wound pleasantly along the Levée; its unvarying level relieved by delightful gardens, and pleasant country seats--(one of which, constructed like a Chinese villa, struck me as eminently tasteful and picturesque)--skirting it upon one side, and by the noble, lake-like Mississippi on the other, which, beating upon its waveless bosom a hundred white sails, and a solitary tow-boat leading, like a conqueror, a fleet in her train--rolled silently and majestically past to the ocean. When, in our own estimation, and, no doubt, in that of our horses, we had accomplished the prescribed two leagues, we reined up at a steam saw-mill, erected and in full operation on the road-side, and inquired for some directions to the spot--not discerning in the peaceful plantations before us, any indications of the scene of so fierce a struggle as that which took place, when England and America met in proud array, and the military standards of each gallantly waved to the "battle and the breeze." Although, on ascending the river in the ship, I obtained a moonlight glance of the spot, I received no impression of its _locale_ sufficiently accurate to enable me to recognise it under different circumstances. An extensive, level field was spread out before us, apparently the peaceful domain of some planter, who probably resided in a little piazza-girted cottage which stood on the banks of the river. But this field, we at once decided, could not be the battle-field--so quiet and farm-like it reposed. "There," was our reflection, "armies can never have met! there, warriors can never have stalked in the pride of victory with