ality, and the
prices asked are high, though seemingly cheap.

Pawnbrokers' shops, "Cheap Johns," third-class hotels, dance houses,
fifth-rate lodging houses, low class theatres, and concert saloons,
abound in the lower part of the street.

The Sunday law is a dead letter in the Bowery. Here, on the Sabbath, one
may see shops of all kinds--the vilest especially--open for trade. Cheap
clothing stores, concert saloons, and the most infamous dens of vice are
in full blast. The street, and the cars traversing it, are thronged with
the lower classes in search of what they call enjoyment. At night all
the places of amusement are open, and are crowded to excess. Roughs,
thieves, fallen women, and even little children throng them. Indeed it
is sad to see how many children are to be found in these places. The
price of admission is low, and strange as it may sound, almost any beggar
can raise it. People have no idea how much of the charity they lavish on
street beggars goes in this way. The amusement afforded at these places
ranges from indelicate hints and allusions to the grossest indecency.

Along the line of almost the entire street are shooting galleries, some
of which open immediately upon the street. They are decorated in the
most fanciful style, and the targets represent nearly every variety of
man and beast. Here is a lion, who, if hit in the proper place, will
utter a truly royal roar. Here is a trumpeter. Strike his heart with
your shot, and he will raise his trumpet to his lips and send forth a
blast sufficient to wake every Bowery baby in existence. "Only five
cents a shot," cries the proprietor to the surrounding crowd of barefoot,
penniless boys, and half-grown lads, "and a knife to be given to the man
that hits the bull's eye." Many a penny do these urchins spend here in
the vain hope of winning the knife, and many are the seeds of evil sown
among them by these "chances." In another gallery the proprietor offers
twenty dollars to any one who will hit a certain bull's eye three times
in succession. Here men contend for the prize, and as a rule the
proprietor wins all the money in their pockets before the mark is struck
as required.

The carnival of the Bowery is held on Saturday night. The down-town
stores, the factories, and other business places close about five
o'clock, and the street is thronged at an early hour. Crowds are going
to market, but the majority are bent on pleasure. As soon a