THE RATTLING OF THE DICE
upon the table or dallying with sin in the by-ways of the city.
Thus they sometimes mingle, surreptitiously and fearfully.
The night hawks! They are to be found in every great city. They are the excrescences of civilization. In cities of great population they are a constant menace to the public peace. Toronto is, perhaps, no worse or no better in this respect than other cities of equal population. That we have a sufficient number of these birds of darkness the police assert, and the newspaper man, whose duties take him occasionally to their haunts, knows. They are a strange race with a terrible philosophy.
“Why don’t you brace up?” was asked of a young man who looked pretty miserable in the early morning. He was evidently suffering from the effects of his last night’s orgies.
“I wish somebody would give me a chance to brace up,” was the answer given, with a weary smile. “I know a nice bar where we could both brace up.”
“Well, now, joking aside, you know your present life is killing you. You are still a young man; you have a good trade. Why don’t you get to work and avoid all this trouble. Compare yourself with that young fellow on the other side of the street with his dinner can. His eye is clear; his tongue is clean and his lips are moist. Are yours?”
“That’s very well put, but that story has got two sides. I’m feelin’ a little tough now; but by noon I wouldn’t change places with Vanderbilt. Ten minutes after I get my first rye I’ll be in as good shape as the coon with the dinner-pail; then he’ll have to sweat and work all day while I lay off beside a cool keg of lager or other choice stimilants. You can’t preach to me about