"I must be going,"—he rose to his feet—"It's after twelve now, and before one, I must be at the Temple."
And while Barnhurst, Bulgin and Dermoyne go forth on their respective ways, let us—although the Temple is very near—gaze upon a scene, by no means lighted by festal lamps, or perfumed with voluptuous flowers. Let us descend into the subterranean world, sunken somewhere in the vicinity of Five Points and the Tombs.
[CHAPTER XIV.]
BELOW FIVE POINTS.
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."