Washington Telegraph

Ovid's Art of Love. -Under this head the New Orleans Delta narrates the following amusing passage in the life of the millionaire John McDonogh—in which love and business were vainly sought to be mixed up in the same transaction. The legend runs thus:

Mr. McDonogh had reached a mature age. He was grave and sedate for his years. His landed possessions were large even then. He had commenced his grand design of surrounding this city, as he said, with his lines of circumvallation.

But unfortunately, some lands belonged to a very wealthy and gay widow lady.

Mr. McDonogh endeavored to purchase these lots. He sent a great many persons, who offered the widow a very large price for her property, but she would not sell,—he in the meantime remaining secret, not allowing it to be known that he was the person in pursuit of her property.

All his efforts proved abortive. At last one day, what was the surprise of the widow, to be waited upon by the wealthy John McDonogh himself, dressed in a bran new suit, with a spotless white vest and cravat, and bearing under his arm that identical green umbrella, which twenty years afterwards constituted one of the peculiarities of his appearance in our streets. Shown into the lady's parlor McDonogh, upon the appearance of the widow, immediately commenced to unfold the object of his visit. He stated that he owned large possessions, and hoped ere he died, to possess the greater part of the landed estate in Louisiana.— that this was the darling object of his ambition, but, unfortunately, his own means were not adequate to the attainment of his high aim. He only lacked one thing—at the same time infusing all the humanity of his soul into the big basilisk eyes which glared upon the handsome face of the widow. "What was that?" "What could Mr. McDonogh want?" inquired the lady. With his usual business-like promptitude, Mr. McDonogh replied, "your hand, Madam."

"My hand?" exclaimed the lady, bursting out into laughter. "Together," added Mr. McDonogh, "with your swamplands in rear of the city!" What followed, the legend omits; but the result was that Mr. McDonogh was seen to leave the widow's house with a countenance denoting indignation and surprise. He vowed revenge and lived to execute it.

Years afterwards, this same widow, having been offered a large price for a piece of city property, found that two lots at the corner of the square, which was chiefly owned by her, were the property of Mr. John McDonogh. It was necessary that she should have these lots to complete her sale. They had cost Mr. McDonough but a few hundred dollars.

What was her surprise on sending a broker to him, to be informed that he might take $50,000, but nothing less. The widow determined to try the virtue of a little personal persuasion; perhaps she could kindle the old flame, and thus induce him to relax.— Accordingly, she paid him a visit. She found him at his dreary old house at McDonoghville. He was buried in musty papers, surrounded by his negro clerks, copying records. A single empty chair sat in the room. The widow took this and immediately commenced the object of her mission. Great was her surprise to be informed by Mr. McDonogh, that it was impossible for him to sell the lots in question. He owned property no himself. It was all God Almighty's whose agent he was, without the power to sell.

At last, having exhausted all other arts the lady thought she would try the effect of old reminiscences and associations, and she blushingly and softly inquired of the stern old millionaire how it was that he should have once offered her his hand and heart, and was now unwilling to grant her this small privilege. "That," responded the hard-hearted votary of Mammon, "was many years ago; then I was thoughtless and giddy, and you, madam, were young and handsome."