upon both sides with sleepy, bobbing drunkards and servants of
drunkards, the girl leaning sleepily upon her neighbor's shoulder, the
German musicians crouching over their instruments half dead with sleep,
old Fagin bawling a line of a beery song, and the conductor, struggling
down through the midst, vainly endeavoring to extract from boozy
passengers, whether they were going "through," or desired to be dropped
on the way. It was a fit ending to a week at the Inebriate Asylum.
THE END.
Cambridge: Electrotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.