Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. "No bones broken, I hope," said Thames, laughing at Jack, who limped towards the bench, rubbing his shins as he went. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. Other, and more serious impositions, inasmuch as they affected a poorer class of persons, were practised by the underlings of the jail. Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill.
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