the days
when he was paraded as 'the wickedest man in New York,' and what Harry
Hill was thought to be in the days when the good old deacons from the
West used to frequent his dance hall, Billy McGlory is in New York
to-day. The. Allen and Harry Hill are both alive, but Billy McGlory
bears off the palm of wickedness amid the wickedest of Gotham. If you
want to see his place, two things are necessary, a prize-fighter for a
protector and a late start. I had both when I went there the other
night. My companions were half a dozen Western men, stopping at an
up-town hotel, and our guide was a little 'tough' who has fought half a
dozen prize fights and would fight at the drop of the hat. We had pooled
issues and one man had all the money in the party. Our wallets and
watches and jewelry were left behind. It was nearly midnight when we
started, and half an hour later when the carriage drove us up in front
of a dingy-looking double doorway, from which the light was streaming.
The walls around were black; no light anywhere except that which came
out of the open door. The entrance was a long hall, with nothing visible
at the further end from the outside. It might have served for a picture
of Milton's description of the 'Cavernous Entrance to Hell.'

"There was a policeman outside, and down the street a score of shadowy
forms flitted in and out of the shadows--prostitutes lying in wait for
victims, our guide told us. McGlory's place is a huge dance hall, which
is approached by devious ways through a bar-room. There is a balcony
fitted up with tables and seats. There are tables and seats under the
balcony. There are little boxes partitioned off in the balcony for the
best customers--that is the sight-seers--and we got one of them. A piano
is being vigorously thumped by a black-haired genius, who is accompanied
by a violinist and a cornet player. 'Don't shoot the pianist; he is
doing his best,' the motto a Western theater man hung up in his place,
would be a good thing here. Yet the pianist of one of these dance halls
is by no means to be despised. It was from a position like this that
Counselor Disbecker rose within a few years to a legal standing that
enabled him to get $70,000 out of Jake Sharpe for lawyer's fees.
Transpositions are rapid in New York, and Billy McGlory, who was on the
Island a few months ago for selling liquor without license, may be an
excise commissioner himself before he dies.

"These side thoughts have crow