A Sailors� Dance-House.
At his instance out we started into the wet night.
(I have omitted, by the way, to mention that some
�charges� were heard by the other serjeant, one
funny. It consisted of two tailors, accused of
�lashing out at one another� with umbrellas in the
Bowery. They were both Irish and discharged
with a joking reprimand. They radiated in talk,
a la Mrs Quickley or Flora Finching.) After
trying one or two subterranean doors, unsuccessful-
ly, Williams entered from the street, a dance-
house. A raised orchestra at one end with four or
five musicians, a liquor bar, no windows, sailors
and waterside men sitting round the room on a
bench, and some dancing with �the girls.� These
were half a dozen coarse women, of ages avera-
ging from twenty to thirty-five or forty, dressed
showily with preposterous, ungainly hoops which,
in conjunction with their motions, displayed a good
deal of leg. The were all cleanly dressed, had on
white or pink stockings and cloth boots. Some
had hideous faces, hard, merciless, brutal in fea-
ture, hardly a touch of humanity in them, others
were not so repulsive, one had really a fine face.
All were rouged, all, of course, prostitutes.
They lived in the house, paying $7 or $8 board,
weekly. From this place to another, not twenty
steps distance, a smaller den, where was a