twinkling like
constellations on the rampage, as they run to and fro. The jingle of
their harness-bells is pleasant of a sultry night, recalling the
sleigh-bells of bracing winter. And the bells have something suggestive
in them, too, of the old Bowery pastures, where the flocks and herds
roamed at large, and the cow-bells rang bass to the shrill treble that
came from the bell-wethers of the flock. But here we have something that
is hardly so pastoral in its associations. Out from the portals of a
large theatre issues a crowd of roughs, who elbow and jostle each other
in their anxiety to reach the nearest place where bad liquor can be had.
To-night the theatre has been given over to the gymnasts of the
"prize-ring," and they have had a sparring exhibition there. Three or
four interesting English pugilists, lately arrived in the city, have
been showing their mettle with the gloves on; and, although a dollar a
head is the usual admission fee on such occasions, the entertainment is
always sure to bring together an immense crowd of the rough class. A
little later, and another dense throng will emerge from the Old Bowery
Theatre, just over the way. It will be a very mixed crowd of men, women,
and children,--the street-boys, with their wondrous variety of sharp
faces, owlish faces, wicked faces, and ragged clothes, being constant
patrons of this popular east-side theatre. Not far from this are the
most dangerous corners and lurking-places to be found anywhere in the
Bowery. Here thieves and rowdies of the worst description hang about the
doors of the low bar-rooms in the neighborhood, in gangs of five or six,
all ready at a signal to concentrate their forces for a rescue, a
robbery, or a row of any sort in which plunder may be secured. There are
policemen in the Bowery, of course; but in many cases the tactics of the
thieves prove to be too much for these guardians of the public peace.
One night, for instance, in the merry month of May of this year, a gang
of about a dozen armed ruffians boarded a Third Avenue horse-car
somewhere in these latitudes, knocked down the conductor with a
slung-shot, robbed and otherwise maltreated several of the passengers,
and got clear away before the first policeman had made his appearance.
Such incidents are by no means uncommon in the Bowery and its purlieus
at night. It is quite different now, remember, from the Bowery it was
when old Peter Stuyvesant used to dot its cow-paths with the tip of