It was on the boundary line of the two most turbulent wards in the city.

To the north was the Italian colony, to the south was the Irish colony.

Both were orderly and self-respecting as a rule, though squalor and poverty abounded.

But these two races are at once the simplest and most quick-tempered, and whenever an Irishman or an Italian crossed the boundary line there was usually a hurry call for the patrol wagon, and some one was always more or less battered up.
Over this saloon was a series of small rooms which were called "wine rooms," though nobody opened wine there.

Beer was ten cents a glass up stairs, and whisky twenty.