grave-demeanored merchant, who seeks, away from the cares of his
domestic hearth, to satisfy his curiosity here; with a third, the
celebrated physician sips his wine; with a fourth, the fatherly
planter exchanges his saliant jokes; with a fifth, Doctor Handy the
politician-who, to please his fashionable wife, a northern lady of
great beauty, has just moved from the country into the city, keeps
up an unmeaning conversation. In the lefthand corner, seated on an
ottoman, and regarding the others as if a barrier were placed
between them, are two men designated gamblers. Your Southern
gentleman is, with few exceptions, a votary of the exciting vice;
but he who makes it his profession severs the thread that bound him
to society. And there sits not far from these members of the
sporting fraternity, the tall, slender figure of a man, habited in
the garb of a quaker. He regards everything about him with the eye
of a philosopher, has a flowing white beard, a mild, playful blue
eye, a short but well-lined nose, a pale oval face, an evenly-cut
mouth, and an amiable expression of countenance. He intently
watches every movement of the denizens, and should one accost him,
he will answer in soft, friendly accents. He seems known to Madame
Flamingo, whom he regards with a mysterious demeanor, and addresses
as does a father his child. The old hostess gets no profit of his
visits, for "he is only a moralist," she says, and his name is Solon
--; and better people love him more as more they know him.

Madame Flamingo has returned, followed by a colored gentleman in
bright livery, bearing on a silver tray two seductive bottles of the
sparkling nectar, and sundry rich-cut goblets. "There! there!" says
the old hostess, pointing to the centre-table, upon which the
colored man deposits them, and commences arranging some dozen
glasses, as she prepares to extract the corks. Now she fills the