surround the scattered town, and, reader, you may form some
estimation of the ratio of vice and wretchedness in this population
of thirty thousand, of which the enslaved form one-third.

Having escorted you to the door, generous reader, we will forget the
common-place jargon of the world, and affect a little ceremony, for
Madame Flamingo is delicately exact in matters of etiquette. Touch
gently the bell; you will find it there, a small bronze knob, in the
fluting of the frame, and scarce perceptible to the uninitiated eye.
If rudely you touch it, no notice will be taken; the broad, high
front of her house will remain, like an ill-natured panorama of
brick and freestone, closed till daylight. She admits nothing but
gentlemen; and gentlemen know how to ring a bell. Well, you have
touched it like one of delicate nerves, and like a bell with manners
polished by Madame Flamingo herself, it answers as faintly as does
the distant tinkle of an Arab's bell in the desert.

There! It was recognized as the ring of a genteel gentleman, and
Madame Flamingo's heavy foot is heard advancing up the hall. Be a
diplomatist now. Show a white glove, and a delicate hand, and a
winning smile, and you have secured your passport to the satin and
brocade of her mansion. A spring is heard to tick, a whisper of
caution to some one within follows, and a block broad enough to
admit your hat swings open, disclosing the voluptuous splendor of a
great hall, the blaze of which flashes upon your senses, and fills
you instinctively with curious emotions. Simultaneously a broad,
cheerful face, somewhat matronly in its aspect, and enlivened with
an urbane smile, darkens the space. After a few moments' pause we
see two sharp gray eyes peering curiously at us, and a soft but
quick accenting voice inquires who we are. Ah! yes, the white glove