And when these were settled, the evenings were not long enough for us to hear all my mother had to tell of the scenes she had passed through in the ill-fated city.
Then there were old times to talk over, full of reminiscences of Aunt Chloe and little Black Sam.

Little Black Sam, by the by, had been taken by his master from my father's service ten months previously, and put on a sugar-plantation near Baton Rouge.

Not relishing the change, Sam had run away, and by some mysterious agency got into Canada, from which place he had sent back several indecorous messages to his late owner.
Aunt Chloe was still in New Orleans, employed as nurse in one of the cholera hospital wards, and the Desmoulins, near neighbors of ours, had purchased the pretty stone house among the orange-trees.
How all these simple details interested me will be readily understood by any boy who has been long absent from home.
I was sorry when it became necessary to discuss questions more nearly affecting myself.

I had been removed from school temporarily, but it was decided, after much consideration, that I should not return, the decision being left, in a manner, in my own hands.
The Captain wished to carry out his son's intention and send me to college, for which I was nearly fitted; but our means did not admit of this.

The Captain, too, could ill afford to bear the expense, for his losses by the failure of the New Orleans business had been heavy.