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New York

We cannot hope to do justice to this branch of our subject. To treat it properly would require a volume, for it is full of the saddest, sternest, and most truthful romance. A writer in Putnam's Magazine for April, 1868, presented an able and authentic paper on this subject, which is so full and interesting that we have decided to quote a few extracts from it here, in place of any statement of our own.

Drunkenness is very common in New York. About eighteen thousand arrests are made annually for drunkenness alone, and nearly ten thousand more for drunkenness and disorderly conduct. Besides these there are thousands of cases of which the police never hear. The vice is not confined to any class. It is to be seen in all conditions of life, and in both sexes. Day after day you will see men under the influence of liquor, reeling through the streets, or lying under the trees in the public parks. The police soon rid the streets of such cases, which are comparatively few during the day.

The old "Fashion Course," on Long Island, which was formerly the scene of the triumphs of the monarchs of the turf, has of late been eclipsed by the course at "Jerome Park," in West Chester county. This course is situated near Fordham, and is the private property of Mr. Leonard W. Jerome. The grounds are large, and handsomely ornamented, and the race- course has been prepared with great care and skill. The meetings of the American Jockey Club are held here. They attract vast crowds.

One of the most barefaced swindles ever practiced in New York has now almost gone out of existence. It is called the "patent safe game," and was much practiced during the late war, as many of our soldiers can testify. It was carried on principally in the neighborhood of the Hudson River Depot, and the complaints of the victims, to the police, were loud and numerous. The mode of operation was as follows:

The press of New York is a subject which requires more time and space in its treatment than can be given to it in this volume, and we must therefore confine ourselves to a brief glance at it. It is divided into two branches, the secular and religious, and in the former we include all the political and literary journals of the City.

                     THE MORNING PAPERS.

If you pass down Broadway to the main entrance to Trinity Church, and then turn abruptly to your left and cross the street, you will find yourself at the head of Wall street, the great financial centre of America. It is a narrow street, extending from Broadway to East river, and lined with handsome brown stone, marble, and granite buildings. Scarcely a house has less than a score of offices within its walls, and some have very near three times that number.

You can scarcely walk a single block without your attention being drawn to one or more of the class called "street boys." We have already devoted a separate chapter to the musicians, and we must now endeavor to give the reader an idea of the rest of this class.

                     THE NEWSBOYS.

Games of chance of all kinds are forbidden in all the States by laws which prescribe various severe penalties for the offence; but in spite of this prohibition, there is no country in the world where gambling is more common than in our own, and no city in the whole Union where it is carried on, to such an extent, as in New York.

There are several classes of gambling houses in the city, which we shall endeavor to describe in their order.

In almost any New York journal you will find such advertisements as the following:

"An honorable gentleman, established in business, desires for a wife a lady of means and respectability. Address M. J. P., Station D, New York."

"A gentleman of the highest respectability, who has lately come into possession of a large fortune, desires to make the acquaintance of a lady with a view to matrimony. Must be handsome, accomplished, amiable, healthy, and pious, and not over twenty-five. Address Husband, Herald office."

In a side-room of the main hall of the Central Police Headquarters, on the second story, in Mulberry street, is a desk at which sits an old rosy-cheeked, white-headed police officer, named McWaters. McWaters is famous in New York. He is the theatrical critic of the Police Department. His opinions on music and the drama are of weighty authority among members of the force, and, like most critics, he is dogmatic and forcible.

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