diens, or Acadian
houses_.

Villere's plantation, situated at the German coast, was not large, and
the whole of his slaves, of both sexes and of all ages, did not exceed
thirty-two. His friends and brother conspirators, who were among the
first gentlemen in the land, did not live with more ostentation. All
the sequestrated property being sold, it was found that, after having
distributed among the widows and other creditors what they were
entitled to, and after paying the costs of the trial and inventories,
the royal treasury had little or nothing to receive. . . . . .

There were but humble dwellings in Louisiana in 1769, and he who would
have judged of their tenants from their outward appearance would have
thought that they were occupied by mere peasants, but had he passed
their thresholds he would have been amazed at being welcomed with such
manners as were habitual in the most polished court of Europe, and
entertained by men and women wearing with the utmost ease and grace
the elegant and rich costume of the reign of Louis XV. There, the
powdered head, the silk and gold flowered coat, the lace and frills,
the red-heeled shoe, the steel handled sword, the silver knee buckles,
the high and courteous bearing of the gentleman, the hoop petticoat,
the brocaded gown, the rich head dress, the stately bow, the slightly
rouged cheeks, the artificially graceful deportment, and the
aristocratic features of the lady, formed a strange contrast with the
roughness of surrounding objects. It struck one with as much
astonishment as if diamonds had been found capriciously set by some
unknown hand in one of the wild trees of the forest, or it reminded
the imagination of those fairy tales in which a princess is found
asleep in a solitude, where none but beasts of prey were expected to
roam.

THE TREE OF THE DEAD.

(_From History of Louisiana._)

In a lot situated at the corner of Orleans and Dauphine streets, in
the city of New Orleans, there is a tree which nobody looks at without
curiosity and without wondering how it came there. For a long time it
was the only one of its kind known in the state, and from its isolated
position it has always been cursed with sterility. It reminds one of
the warm climes of Africa or Asia, and wears the aspect of a stranger
of distinction driven from his native country. Indeed with its sharp
and thin foliage, sighing mournfully under the blast of one of our
November northern winds, it looks as s