ncipally
devoted to the exhibition of musical talent, and opened at a period
of the night when the performances at the theaters were over. The
orchestral arrangements were comprised in one bad piano, to which were
occasionally added, by way of increasing the attractions, performances
on the banjo and guitar. All the singers were called "ladies and
gentlemen;" and the one long room in which the performances took place
was simply furnished with a double row of benches, bearing troughs at
their backs for the reception of glasses of liquor.

Innocence itself must have seen at a glance that the Snuggery was an
utterly vicious place. Vice never so much as thought of wearing any
disguise here. No glimmer of wit played over the foul substance of the
songs that were sung, and hid it in dazzle from too close observation.
No relic of youth and freshness, no artfully-assumed innocence and
vivacity, concealed the squalid deterioration of the worn-out human
counterfeits which stood up to sing, and were coarsely painted and
padded to look like fine women. Their fellow performers among the men
were such sodden-faced blackguards as no shop-boy who applauded them at
night would dare to walk out with in the morning. The place itself
had as little of the allurement of elegance and beauty about it as the
people. Here was no bright gilding on the ceiling--no charm of ornament,
no comfort of construction even, in the furniture. Here were no
viciously-attractive pictures on the walls--no enervating sweet odors
in the atmosphere--no contrivances of ventilation to cleanse away the
stench of bad tobacco-smoke and brandy-flavored human breath with
which the room reeked all night long. Here, in short, was vice wholly
undisguised; recklessly showing itself to every eye, without the varnish
of beauty, without the tinsel of wit, without even so much as the
flavor of cleanliness to recommend it. Were all beholders instinctively
overcome by horror at the sight? Far from it. The Snuggery was crammed
to its last benches every night; and the proprietor filled his pockets
from the purses of applauding audiences. For, let classical moralists
say what they may, vice gathers followers as easily, in modern times,
with the mask off, as ever it gathered them in ancient times with the
mask on.

It was two o'clock in the morning; and the entertainments in the
Snuggery were fast rising to the climax of joviality. A favorite comic
song had just been sung by a blo