[Illustration:  MADISON SQUARE.  YESTERDAY IT WAS THE HOME OF THE FLORA MC FLIMSIES OF THE WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER POEM “NOTHING TO WEAR.”  TO-DAY, IN THE EYES OF THE MANHATTANITE, IT IS THE CENTRE OF THE UNIVERSE.]

The frontispiece of the book shows the Stewart Mansion at the corner of Thirty-fourth Street and Fifth Avenue, and by contrast, the Old Brewery at the Five Points.  Before the Mission was opened the Five Points was a dangerous locality, the resort of burglars, thieves, and desperadoes, with dark, underground chambers, where murderers often hid, where policemen seldom went, and never unarmed.  A good citizen going through the neighbourhood after dark was sure to be assaulted, beaten, and probably robbed.  Nightly the air was filled with the sound of brawling.  Wretchedness, drunkenness, and suffering stalked abroad.  There were such rookeries as Cow Bay and Murderer’s Alley, the latter of which continued to exist, though its sinister glory had long since departed, until fifteen or twenty years ago.  The lodging houses of the section were underground, without ventilation, without windows, overrun with rats and vermin.

For diversion the miserable denizens of the quarter sought the near-by Bowery, with its brilliantly lighted drinking dens, its concert halls, where negro minstrelsy was featured, and its theatres where the plays were immoral comedies or melodramas glorifying the exploits of picturesque criminals.  News-boys, street-sweepers, rag-pickers, begging girls filled the galleries of these places of amusement.  Here is the clerical visitor’s description of the thoroughfare that was then the second principal street of the city:  “Leaving the City Hall about six o’clock on Sunday night, and walking through Chatham Square to the Bowery, one would not believe that New York had any claim to be a Christian city, or that the Sabbath had any friends.  The shops are open, and trade is brisk.  Abandoned females go in swarms, and crowd the sidewalk.  Their dress, manner, and language indicate that depravity can go no lower.  Young men known as Irish-Americans, who wear as a badge long frock-coats, crowd the corners of the streets, and insult the passer-by.  Women from the windows arrest attention by loud calls to the men on the sidewalk, and jibes, profanity, and bad words pass between the parties.  Sunday theatres, concert-saloons, and places of amusement are in full blast.  The Italians and Irish shout out their joy from the rooms they occupy.  The click of the billiard ball, and the booming of the ten-pin alley, are distinctly heard.  Before night, victims watched for will be secured; men heated with liquor, or drugged, will be robbed, and many curious and bold explorers in this locality will curse the hour in which they resolved to spend a Sunday in the Bowery.”