F. Colburn (Francis Colburn) Adams
Chapter 13
give him a good berth, and let him mellow at thirty cents a day,"
continues the voice.
The last sentence the speaker addressed to a man of comely figure
and frank countenance, who has just made his appearance, dressed in
the garb of a sailor. This man stoops over Tom, seems to recognize
in him an old acquaintance, for his face warms with kindliness, and
he straightway commences wiping the sun-scorched face of the
inebriate with his handkerchief, and with his hand smooths and
parts, with an air of tenderness, his hair; and when he has done
this, he spreads the handkerchief over the wretched man's face,
touches the querulous vote-cribber on the arm, and with a
significant wink beckons him away, saying, "Come away, now, he has
luffed into the wind. A sleep will do him good."
CHAPTER II.
MADAME FLAMINGO-HER DISTINGUISHED PATRONS, AND HER VERY RESPECTABLE
HOUSE.
REGARD us forbearingly, generous and urbane reader; follow us
undaunted whither we go, nor charge us with tracing crime in a bad
cause. We will leave the old prison, the dejected inebriate, the
more curious group that surround him, and the tale of the destroyer
it develops, and escort you in our walk to the mansion of Madame
Flamingo, who is well known in Charleston, and commonly called the
Mother of Sin. It is a massive brick pile, situate in one of the
public thoroughfares, four stories high, with bold Doric windows,
set off with brown fluted freestone, and revealing faded red
curtains, overlain with mysterious lace, and from between the folds
of which, at certain hours of the day, languid and more mysterious
eyes may be seen peering cautiously. Madame Flamingo says (the city
fathers all know it) she has a scrupulous regard to taste, and
develops it in the construction of her front door, which is of black
walnut, fluted and carved in curious designs. In style it resembles
somewhat the doors of those fashionable churches that imitate so
closely the Italian, make good, paying property of fascinating pews,