“What's the meaning of this uproar?” demanded the captain, all the more excited because he felt that things had reached a pass that would not permit him to laugh himself. “Do you fancy yourself on the Hook, or at the Five Points?” The Hook and the Five Points are two pieces of tabooed territory within the limits of the good town of Manhattan, that are getting to be renowned for their rascality and orgies. They probably want nothing but the proclamation of a governor in vindication of their principles, annexed to a pardon of some of their unfortunate children, to render both classical. If we continue to make much further progress in political logic, and in the same direction as that in which we have already proceeded so far, neither will probably long be in want of this illustration. Votes can be given by the virtuous citizens of both these purlieus, as well as by the virtuous citizens of the anti-rent districts, and votes contain the essence of all such principles, as well as of their glorification. “Do you fancy yourselves on the Hook, or at the Five Points?” demanded Spike, angrily. “Lor', no sir!” answered Simon, laughing at each pause with all his heart. “Only laughs a little at _ghost_--dat all, sir.” “Laugh at ghost! Is that a subject to laugh at? Have a care, you black rascal, or he will visit you in your galley here, when you will least want to see him.” “No care much for _him,_ sir,” returned Simon, laughing away as hard as ever. “_Sich_ a ghost ought n't to skear little baby.” “_Such_ a ghost? And what do you know of _this_ ghost more than any other?” “Well, I seed him, Cap'in Spike; and what a body sees, he is acquainted wid.” “You saw an image that looked as much like Mr. Mulford, my late mate, as one timber-head in this brig is like another.” “Yes, sir, he like enough--must say _dat_--so wery like, could n't see any difference.”