It is now the hour of twelve, midnight, on the 23d of December, 1844.
We are in the region of the Five Points, near the Tombs, whose sullen walls look still more ominous and gloomy in the wintery starlight.
Enter the narrow door of the frame-house, which seems toppling to the ground. You hear the sound of the violin, and by the light of tallow candles, inserted in tin sconces which are affixed to the blackened walls, you discover some twenty persons, black, white and chocolate-colored, of all ages and both sexes, dancing and drinking together. It is an orgie--an orgie of crime, drunkenness and rags.
Pass into the next room. By a single light, placed on a table, you discover the features of three or four gamblers,--not gamblers of the gentlemanly stamp, who, in luxurious chambers, prolong the game of "poker" all night long, until the morning breaks, or the champagne gives out,--but gamblers of a lower stamp, ill-dressed fellows, whose highest stake is a shilling, and whose favorite beverage is whisky, and whisky that is only whisky in name, while in fact, it is poison of the vilest sort--whisky classically called "red-eye."
Open a scarcely distinguishable door, at the back of the ruffian who sits at the head of the table. Descend a narrow stairway, or rather ladder, which lands you in the darkness, some twenty feet below the level of the street. Then, in the darkness, feel your way along the passage which turns to the right and left, and from left to right again, until your senses are utterly bewildered. At length, after groping your way in the darkness, over an uneven floor, and between narrow walls; after groping your way you know not how far, you descend a second ladder, ten feet or more, and find yourself confronted by a door. You are at least two stories under ground, and all is dark around you--the sound of voices strikes your ear; but do not be afraid. Find the latch of the door and push it open. A strange scene confronts you.
A room or cell, some twenty feet square, is warmed by a small coal stove, which, heated to a red heat, stands in the center, its pipe inserted in the low ceiling, and leading you know not where. Around the stove, by the light of three tallow candles placed upon a packing-box, are grouped some twenty or thirty persons, who listen attentively to the words of the gentleman who is seated by the packing-box.