New York City

, just above the entrance to a cellar, a flaming transparency, with the inscription, 'Madame X--'s Arcade.' Going down a few steps, we find our view of the interior obstructed by a large screen, painted white, with the almost nude figure of a dancing Venus coarsely painted thereon. The screen is placed across the entrance, a few feet from the door, obliging us to flank it, _a la Sherman_, and enter the hall by going around it. We find the floor handsomely covered with matting and oil cloth. On the right-hand side, nearest the door, is the bar, over which presides a genius of the male sex, whose chief attractions consists of a decided red head, and an immense paste breastpin, stuck into the bosom of a ruffled shirt. The bar is well furnished, and any drink called for, from beer to champagne, can be instantly obtained. A significant feature, and one that easily arrests the attention, is a formidable Colt's revolver, a foot in length, suspended immediately over the sideboard. This weapon, it may be observed, is not placed there as an ornament; it is in itself a _monitor_, warning those inclined to be disorderly, of the danger of carrying their boisterousness or ruffianism too far. On the walls are black engravings of the French school, fit ornaments for the place. But, while we are taking this casual survey, one of the attendant nymphs, with great scantiness of clothing, affording display for bare shoulders and not unhandsome ankles, appears, and in a voice of affected sweetness wholly at variance with her brazen countenance and impertinent air, requests us to be seated, and asks what we'll have. We modestly ask for 'Two ales,' which are soon placed before us, and paid for. While quietly sipping the beverage, we will glance at our surroundings. Back of the hall--we are sitting at a table near the centre of the apartment--on a raised platform, is an asthmatic pianoforte, upon which an individual with threadbare coat, colorless vest and faded nankeen pantaloons, is thrumming away for dear life. Out of tune himself, he tortures the poor instrument in a way that threatens its instant dissolution, rending its heartstrings, and causing it to shriek with agony, wailing out the tune that the old cow died to! This is the only piece of music the performer is acquainted with, judging from the persistent manner in which he clings to it. What he lacks in musical knowledge, however, he makes up with intention, and _thumps_ away quite manfully, only stopping, now and then to call for a drink, with which to recruit his exhausted energies. "But we have come to behold the chief attraction of the establishment?--the 'pretty waiter girls.'" THE WAITER GIRLS. "Looking around, we see, perhaps, twenty females, in various styles of dress--some in Turkish costume (supposed to be _houris_ no doubt); others attired as Spanish peasants; and others still in plain evening attire. The latter are for the most part far from possessing charms, and, from their looks, have long since outlived their beauty; but what they lack in this respect they make up in others. The girl that waited upon us on our entrance, again approaches, and seeing our glasses empty, takes them away to be replenished. She soon reappears, and in response to our invitation, takes a seat beside us, while we enter into conversation with her. She is a fair sample (excuse the mercantile term) of her class, and her history is a history of a majority of her associates. Not unprepossessing in appearance, by any means, Ellen-- that, she tells us, is her name--is twenty-two years of age; was born in the village of Tarrytown; resided with her parents until she was eighteen, when her father died. Leaving her mother with her youngest brother, she came to New York to seek employment. On arriving in the city, she obtained a situation in a millinery store. Remained there but a short time; was out of work; had no friends, no money. Would not go back to her mother, who was poor. Saw an advertisement of Madame--for 'Pretty waiter girls.' Answered it. Was engaged in the saloon; seduced (partly by promises, and partly by threats), by one of the frequenters of the establishment--and has since led the life of a