own sufferings and die easy. But
the thought of what had become of that child forever haunted her; she
knew that unless she atoned in some way the devil would surely get her."
The old man says, setting down his cup, it all comes fresh to his mind.
Mr. Soloman (he has not a doubt) could let some light upon the subject;
and, as he seems acquainted with the lady that takes so much interest in
what became of the woman Munday, he may relieve her search. "I am sure
she is dead, nevertheless; I say this, knowing that having no home she
got upon the Neck, and then associated with the negroes; and the last I
heard of her was that the fever carried her off. This must have been
true, or else she had been back here pleading for the bundles we could
not find." Thus saying, Mr. McArthur finishes his humble supper, kisses
and fondles his daughter, whom he dotingly loves, and retires for the
night.

CHAPTER XV.

WHAT MADAME FLAMINGO WANTS TO BE.

Tom Swiggs has enjoyed, to the evident satisfaction of his mother, a
seven months' residence in the old prison. The very first families
continue to pay their respects to the good old lady, and she in return
daily honors them with mementoes of her remembrance. These little
civilities, exchanging between the stately old lady and our first
families, indicate the approach of the fashionable season. Indeed, we
may as well tell you the fashionable season is commencing in right good
earnest. Our elite are at home, speculations are rife as to what the
"Jockey Club" will do, we are recounting our adventures at northern
watering-places, chuckling over our heroism in putting down those who
were unwise enough to speak disrespectful of our cherished institutions,
and making very light of what we would do to the whole north. You may
know, too, that our fashionable season is commenced by what is taking
place at the house of Madame Flamingo on the one side, and the St.
Cecilia on the other. We recognize these establishments as institutions.
That they form the great fortifications of fashionable society, flanking
it at either extreme, no one here doubts.

We are extremely sensitive of two things--fashion, and our right to sell
negroes. Without the former we should be at sea; without the latter, our
existence would indeed be humble. The St. Cecilia Society inaugurates
the fashionable season, the erudite Editor of the Courier will tell
you, with an entertainment given to the elite of its members and