and but a short distance off is a fanciful grotto. Its embellishments are a little shrubbery, a few palm and cocoa trees, and a statue of one of those innumerable Ferdinands, with big noses and little brains, who have ridden Spain down the hill, the bottom of which she has nearly reached. The Vice-Royal Palace extends all along one side of this square. It is a building of no claims to architectural beauty. The upper story, which alone is occupied by the CaptainGeneral, projects far over the lower, and is sustained by pillars, making a broad, colonnaded covered way in front. The ground floor is occupied by shops and offices of various kinds. On each side of the principal entrance is a guard-room, in which a dozen little soldiers may be found at any time; and across the covered way, from two pillars to the two side posts of the door-way, two little sentinels are pacing day and night. The Intendencia is a large building of two stories, with a dark, heavy stone arcade in front, and having upon one corner the square, balustraded, towerlike addition which, when in the harbor, we saw projecting above so many of the larger houses of the city. Nothing strikes a stranger in the appearance of Havana more than the color of the buildings. They are universally massive in structure, and very oriental in style; but before these qualities impinge themselves upon the attention, the fact that they are of all the lighter colors of the rainbow, brings a smile upon newly arrived Anglo-Saxon lips. The prevailing color is light yellow; but many are light green, some a bright blue, some orange color, some of two, and some of all four of these tints. The first story of a house directly opposite the palace was, in the summer of 1851, a bright salmon color, while the second was of a delicate Marie Louise blue; now, the first may be apple green, and the second, deep orange. These bright colors, reflecting the beams of a tropical sun, dazzle the eye accustomed to the sober tones of Northern architecture, and add another quiver to the glowing air. We pass slowly along the narrow ways, hugging the wall for the sake of its shade, and wondering when we shall get through the lanes and into the streets; and never get farther than the wonder. Havana has no street worthy of the name; save one, the Calle della Reina, which stretches from the Campo Marte, or Military Square, without the walls, to the noble Paseo Tacon. The houses are separated by a narrow, unpaved alley, which is sometimes garnished with an elevated stone causeway or "side-walk," upon which two persons cannot, by the closest contrivance, stand abreast. Through these narrow ways the rolantes and long trucks dash at a reckless pace, and turn the short corners in an unexpected and uncomfortably astonishing manner. In one of these, which differs from most of the others through which we have passed, only in being somewhat less dirty, we stop before a huge portal, which is the entrance to our hotel. All the houses are built round a court; but many of the finest are of but a single story and of enormous height. The drawing-room being always on the street, and in these houses separated from the entrance only by a grating, the volante, which stands always by the door, seems to be in the room; and in some cases, where the grating is wanting, is actually so. The windows of these houses being so directly on, and almost in the street, that a passenger could thrust his arm through them to its full length,-it must be remembered that they have no sashesthey are protected by enormous gratings of thick iron bars, which bow outward. Were it not for this, so narrow are the ways, and so cumbrous the vehicles, that trucks and volantes would be coming in at window as well as at door. The street, if it can be called a street, most occupied with these strange dwellings, is the Paseo Isabella II., of which we caught a glimpse when entering the harbor. The Havanese Paseo is something between a pleasure ground and a street. That of Isabella II. is about four hundred feet wide, and nearly a mile long. Five or six rows of trees run through its entire length; between these, are carriage ways. Near one end of the Paseo is a fountain; about the middle stands a small bronze statue of the babyfaced little queen whose name it bears. These are all its monuments; in which it differs much from the Paseo Tacon, which is filled with sculptured fountains, statues and pillars. The Tacon theatre, a large building of unpretending exterior, is upon this Paseo, which also bounds the Campo Marte on one side. The large prison which we have already seen is at one end of it. The Habanero's drive or walk upon the Paseo, answers to the Englishman's in Hyde Park, the Frenchman's in the Bois de Boulogne, the Berliner's Unter den Linden, the Viennois upon the Prader, and the American's ?Where is the pleasure ground, the breathing space for rich and poor, to which the American goes for an hour's relaxation and refreshment? We laugh at the Spaniard, and think him slow; so slow as to have fallen very far behind the age, because he cannot make railroads. and does not launch clipper-ships, has Frenchmen to build his light-houses and manage them, chips with axes at bits of yellow stone for twenty years, and turns his drawing-room into a carriage house. But might not the haughty sadness of his face break into its grave and courteous smile with equal reason, as he vainly asks us for our substitute for his Paseo? HAVE WE A BOURBON AMONG US? INTRODUCTORY FROM REV. DR. HAWKS. NEW-YORK, Jan. 1, 1853. MY DEAR SIR,-The narrative which accompanies this note was prepared by the Rev. John H. Hanson, a clergyman of worth and ability, and with his permission is forwarded to you for the pages of your magazine. Of the accuracy of Mr. Hanson's statements it is unnecessary to speak to those who know him; but for the sake of others, it may be well to say that his character and standing are such as to justify entire confidence in any thing he relates as coming within his personal knowledge. To this I may add that I have seen the documents which he states to be in his possession, and know that he has correctly related what he heard from Mr. Williams; for much of it was repeated in my presence; beside which, Mr. Williams has heard read all that is in the narrative, and has told me that, so far as his statements are given, they are correctly related by Mr. Hanson. As to Mr. Williams himself, I know him very well. He is a clergyman of the Protestant Episcopal Church whose labors have been, almost entirely, those of a missionary among the Indians. He is in good standing as a clergyman, and is deemed a man of truth among his acquaintance and those with whom he has longest lived. As his character for veracity becomes an all-important question, in considering the very remarkable facts contained in the narrative, Mr. Hanson took great pains in his inquiries on that point; and to that end made a visit to the spot where Mr. Williams had spent many years of his life, and was best known; the result was abundant and satisfactory testimonials, now in Mr. Hanson's possession, that Mr. Williams has always been deemed a worthy and truthful man. I can add to this merely my statement that in all my intercourse with him, I have never found reason to doubt the correctness of his neighbors and acquaintance in their testimony to his character as stated above. From personal knowledge, I am able to say that there is a remarkable simplicity both of manner and character about Mr. Williams. He possesses an ordinary share of intellectual power; with but little quickness, however, of combination, in grouping facts that bear on a common central point, and without much readiness in deducing conclusions from them; and is incapable of framing a mass of circumstantial testimony, made up of a combination of many isolated facts. To do this, requires genius, and a high inventive faculty. Indeed, nothing has struck me more forcibly in my frequent conversations with him on the facts embodied in Mr. Hanson's narrative, than his seemingly entire non-perception of the bearing of many of the facts as testimony, and their coincidence with other events known to him, until these were pointed out to him. And sometimes he could not at first be made even then, to comprehend readily the indicated relations. When, however, he did comprehend the relations, his countenance would light up with a smile, and he would say, "I see it now, but I never saw it before." I have found him uniformly amiable, and gentle in manner, and to all appearance a truly pious man. In short, a knowledge of the man has seemed to me to be an important part of the story he tells; his temperament, disposition, mental operations, &c., all go to establishing one of the facts explanatory of some particulars in the narrative. Whether the historical problem presented by Mr. Hanson be here solved, is a matter which I will not undertake to decide. The only points of which I would speak with certainty are two:-first, Mr. Williams is not an Indian; and secondly, he is not able to invent a complicated mass of circumstantial evidence to sustain a fabricated story. No matter, however, what may be the conclusions of your readers, there is interest enough in the narrative to repay the trouble of a perusal. Yours very truly, FRANCIS L. HAWKS GEORGE P. PUTNAM, Esq. AT T the moment that the star of the Bonapartes is culminating, there is a sad and solemn interest in looking back at the dynasty which preceded in the government of France. The House of Bourbon ascended the throne in the person of the great but unfortunate Henry IV., in the year 1588, but with such undeviating accuracy were the warp and woof of destiny woven, that although the last reigning prince of that line came to the crown in virtue of five applications of the Salique law, he yet combined in his person all claims legal and natural of the Capetine race, and was the true lineal heir of Hugh Capet, whose reign began A. D. 987, and thus brought the imperial drama of 800 years, rounded and perfect to its tragical close. Louis XVI. espoused Marie Antoinette Josephe Jeane of Austria, a sister of Joseph II., of the Queen of Naples, and of the Duchess of Parma; daughter of the Emperor Francis I., by Maria Theresa, Queen of Hungary and Bohemia. This event occurred in 1770. On the 10th May, 1774, Louis ascended the throne. Marie Therèse Charlotte, the first child of the royal but ill-fated pair, was born Dec. 1778; a second child who died early, was born 1781, and Charles Louis, the Dauphin of revolutionary history, came into the world March 25th, 1785. The sad history of this child, his beauty, his virtues and his sufferings, are familiar to all. After his separation from his female relatives, and the death of his mother in 1793, he was consigned to the care of Simon the cobbler. By him, he was treated in a manner which disgraced humanity; cold, hunger, filth, sleeplessness, beating, abuse, terror, reduced him to a condition of idiocy. After the fall of Robespierre, and the execution of Simon, his sufferings were alleviated. Under the Convention, a course of timid treachery succeeded to the open brutalities of Robespierre and St. Just. The existence of Louis XVII. was a sore trial for the republicans, who at the same time could frame no excuse, even to themselves, for putting him to death. In Dec. 1794, a decree was passed in the Convention, "that the committee of government should devise the means of sending the son of Louis out of the territories of the republic." On the 9th June, 1795, it was reported to the Convention that he was dead. Three surgeons testified to his death, which was attributed to scrofula. The Duchess D'Angoulême, his sister, gives, from report, in her memoirs, the particulars attending his decease. Now, did Louis XVII. really die in 1795 as was reported at the time, and generally believed since, or is he still alive and in the State of New-York? If the following statements, which I am authorized by the individual chiefly concerned to make, seem marvellous, let me remind the reader that the remote and individual consequences of such an event as the French Revolution, can scarcely fail to be so, and should no more surprise us than the brilliancy of meteors torn from shattered worlds. I observed, about two years ago, a paragraph in the papers, stating that facts had recently come to light, which rendered it probable that the Rev. Mr. Williams, of Green Bay, Wisconsin, was no other than Louis XVII.; but as the circumstances on which the statement was based were not mentioned, except that he bore a strong resemblance to the Bourbon family, my curiosity was excited, and I made fruitless inquiries in many quarters, finding no one who could give me the slightest clue to the mystery. In the summer of 1851, being then a resident at Waddington. on the banks of the St. Lawrence, in the State of New-York, I heard that the Rev. Eleazer Williams had returned from the West to St. Regis, a well-known Indian village, a few miles distant, but my informant was unacquainted with his history. I then purposed to pay Mr. Williams a visit at St. Regis, but was prevented by circumstances from doing so, and as I was about to remove, regretted that I should leave northern New-York without obtaining an interview. Accident, however, threw him in my way. Upon entering the cars, on the Ogdensburg railroad, on my way to New-York, in the autumn of 1851, I observed a somewhat stout old gentleman, talking to two Indians in their own language, in a very animated manner, and was much interested in watching the varied play of their countenances while listening to him. He appeared to be very eloquent, used much gesticulation, and worked his hearers into a state of excitement more remarkable. when compared with the usual stolid expression of the Indian face. A gentleman on the seat before me, who was also watching the singular group, said, "He must be a half-breed," for we were all surprised at the freedom with which one of evidently European figure and face, spoke the Indian tongue. It then occurred to me that it was Williams, and on my saying so, and mentioning the mystery connected with his name, the gentleman who had first spoken rose, and asked the conductor, who confirmed my supposition. On hearing this, I introduced myself to Mr. Williams as a brother clergyman, apologizing for not having paid him a visit. I found him friendly and easy of access. He said that he had been trying to convince his Indian friends, who were members of the Roman communion, of their errors, and that the poor fellows were much interested in what he had advanced. He was going to Burlington, Vermont, and from thence to Boston, and as our route lay down Lake Champlain, we took the steamer together at Rouse's Point. When we were seated on the deck, I told him that I had seen a statement in the newspapers, which had excited my curiosity, and should feel obliged, if it was not intrusive, by being informed if he believed the story of his royal origin, and upon what evidence the extraordinary claim was based. He replied that the subject was painful to him, nor could he speak of it unmoved, but that he would with pleasure, give me the required information. "There seems to me," I then said, "one simple and decisive test of the truth of your claim, I mean, your memory of your childhood. If you have always lived among the Indians, you cannot forget it, and if you are the lost Dauphin, it seems scarcely credible that, being at the time of your mother's death more than eight years of age, you could have passed through the fearful scenes of the revolution, without a strong impression of the horrors attendant on your early years. Have you any memory of what happened in Paris, or of your voyage to this country?" "Therein," he replied, "lies the mystery of my life. I know nothing about my infancy. Every thing that occurred to me is blotted out, entirely erased, irrecoverably gone. My mind is a blank until thirteen or fourteen years of age. You must imagine a child who, as far as he knows any thing, was an idiot, destitute even of consciousness that can be remembered until that period. He was bathing on Lake George, among a group of Indian boys. He clambered with the fearlessness of idiocy to the top of a high rock. He plunged down head foremost into the water. He was taken up insensible, and laid in an Indian hut. He was brought to life. There was the blue sky, there were the mountains, there were the waters. That was the first I knew of life." As it is important to compare the statements of personal feelings, given to different persons by Mr. Williams, I may mention here, that a gentleman of the bar, of high standing, whose opinions I shall frequently refer to, recently said to me-"I must do him the justice of saying, that he never pretended to know any thing personally of what occurred in his childhood; but he said, however, that after the plunge in Lake George, his mind seemed to recover its tone and soundness, and a good many images of things came back, but without any possibility of giving them name and place." He then told me an incident of startling and dramatic interest. A gentleman of distinction, on his recent return from Europe, in an interview with Mr. Williams, threw some lithographs and engravings upon the table. at the sight of one of which, and without seeing the name, Williams was greatly excited, and cried out Good God! I know that face. It has haunted me through life,' or words to that effect. On examination, it proved to be the portrait of Simon, the jailer of the Dauphin. But to proceed with the conversation on the steamboat. "When then and how," I continued, "did you come to entertain the idea which you now do, concerning your birth? What is there to confirin it ?" "I was always under the impression," he replied, "that I was at least partly of Indian extraction, until the time that the Prince de Joinville came to this country. One of the first questions that he asked on his arrival in New-York was, whether there was such a person known as Eleazer Williams, among the Indians in the northern part of the State; and after some inquiries, in different quarters, he was told that there was such a person, who was at that time a Missionary of the Protestant Episcopal Church, at Green Bay, Wisconsin, and he was advised to apply for further information to some prominent members of the church, in the city. He accordingly applied to Mr. Thomas Ludlow Ogden, who, at the Prince's request, wrote to me. stating that the Prince was then in the country, and before his return to France. would be happy to have an interview with me. I replied to Mr. Ogden, that I should be exceedingly happy to see the Prince at any time. I was much surprised with his communication; but supposed however, that as I had resided a long time in the West, and had been chaplain to Gen. |