“You may remember, father,” interrupts Maria, “she twice spoke of a child left in her charge; and that the child was got away from her.  If she could only trace that poor child, she would say, or find out what had become of it, she could forget her 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 a few very distinguished foreigners.  Madame Flamingo opens her forts, at the same time, with a grand supper, which she styles a very select entertainment, and to which she invites none but “those of the highest standing in society.”  If you would like to see what sort of a supper she sets to inaugurate the fashionable season, take our arm for a few minutes.