ere
concluded, to contemplate the novel scene which the interior of the
gin-palace presented. Many of our Broadway liquor-stores are, in point
of gilding and decoration, equally splendid, but there all resemblance
ceases. Behind the spacious bar stood immense vats containing whole
hogsheads of ardent spirits. These were elevated on a pedestal about
four feet from the floor, and reached to the lofty ceiling. Their
contents were gin, whisky, rum, and brandy, of various standards.
Others of a somewhat smaller size contained port, sherry, and Madeira
wines, or the adulterations which pass by their names, with an
undiscriminating public. When these vats were empty, they were filled
from barrels in the cellars beneath by means of a force-pump.

The customers at the bar were of a motley description. There were many
females among them, mostly girls of the town, who were swallowing
undiluted drams of gin and peppermint. Pallid mechanics and their wives,
the latter sometimes bearing young children in their arms, exhibited
varying degrees of drunkenness, from the hilarious or maudlin state to
that of rolling intoxication. Even children, whose size was so
diminutive that they had to stand on tiptoe to elevate their heads above
the counter, demanded and received their liquor, imbibing the burning
fluid with eyes that sparkled delight. I was in the temple of the
gin-fiend, and the crowd around me were his daily devotees.

The next morning when I awoke I hastened to the window of my room. The
opposite houses were visible, and the ordinary traffic of the streets
was not impeded. A drizzling rain was falling, and pedestrians waded
ankle deep in slush and mud. The fog, though partially dispelled,
brooded over the house-tops, and concealed the chimneys. All the stores
were lighted with gas, and one could well imagine that the sun had never
shone in that dismal climate.

The landlord readily consented to advance me a pound sterling on my
watch, and without stopping to take breakfast, I plunged into the miry
streets. I was at a loss what course to pursue. The fog of the previous
evening had prevented my noticing any of the external features of the
hotel in which I had dined with my Scotch acquaintance, and where my
trunks, that contained all the money for my travels, and the
introductory letters that were essential to the purpose for which I had
visited Europe, were deposited. The house in which I had passed the
night was situated in St.