A girl entered after this, who took up a position near where I had squeezed myself into a corner to be out of the way of fists and boots, which were being thrown around loose a few minutes before. A glance sufficed to show that if she was vicious vice had not yet had time to mark her as it had the other creatures in the room. She looked a little frightened. “They are having a good time,” I remarked. “Yes,” she said somewhat doubtfully, “but I wish they weren’t so rough.” I found out that she was a servant girl who had been out with her “fellow,” and was unable to gain admission to her house. The knave or the fool had then taken her here. I ventured to suggest to her that this was no place for a respectable woman, and offered to go with her in search of a hotel, but as I found that she suspected my motives, I gave the matter up. I found that a new piece of fun was being promoted by the humorous gentlemen of the house. They were carrying stories back and forth between two of the women, so as to PROVOKE THEM INTO A FIGHT. In this they were successful, and the two poor misguided wretches were soon screaming and clawing like cats on the floor. The men and women, howling and jibbering, formed a ring about this couple of unsexed beings. When the men were fighting the desire of every man in the room was to assist in parting them, but when two members of that sex, who are supposed to arouse in man all that is self-sacrificing and gallant, came to disgrace their claim to womanhood, these wolves not only stood by, but cheered them on to worse and worse shame. “Come, my men,” said a spectator, thinking to appeal to the better nature of some of the beings present, “stop this disgraceful scene.” But he was taken hold of and hurled against the wall with oaths. Bound not to witness what he could not remedy he made his way outside with a lower opinion of humanity than ever he had in his life before. “I tell you,” said a friend the other day after the conclusion of the six days walk, “a man has more endurance than any animal.” “Yes,” said the spectator of the McQuarry dance, “and he can be more brutal and more ferocious.” CHAPTER XXI. DOWN AT THE UNION STATION.