His impudence and daring is only equaled by his fathomless corruption.  The man or woman who will dare to say that these places are found on the road to heaven, certainly has a very poor idea of heaven and its inhabitants.  If they are to be found along the straight and narrow way, and the travelers along this way are to enter and participate in the things therein going on, then they are certainly designed of God to aid in the salvation of immortal souls.  If this be true, on entering the narrow way the first refreshments we shall get are to be found in one of these places, having this sign over the door; “FIRST CHANCE,” and the last thing we pass in this life, just before we enter heaven, will be another one of these houses with this inscription over the door:  “LAST CHANCE.”  Some of these boys don’t understand it this way; they have been raised to think that “there is no harm in dancing,” but were never told that the dancing shops of all kinds are on the same road with all the drinking saloons and other places of a like character.  No, the same parents told their sons that the drinking saloon is next door to hell, and these are the ones we read about in the Bible, who “strain at a gnat and swallow a camel.”  That is to say, in those days when Christ was on earth, there were some people so peculiarly constituted that they strained at a gnat and swallowed a camel; but we live in an age of improvement, an age in which some people strain at a gnat, and swallow a Jumbo with perfect ease and in the most graceful manner.

I know an advocate of the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union, who often dances all night, most gracefully, and in the morning she turneth up her little nose, just as gracefully as the elephant turneth up his snout when Peck’s bad boy has thrown him a piece of tobacco, at the awful drinking saloon and saloon keepers.  The private parlor dance is the beginning, the first depot on the great air-line route from this world to the city of destruction; here the boys and men are drawn into the coaches by the general passenger agents:  the MOTHERS, WIVES, DAUGHTERS, SISTERS and SWEETHEARTS.  This line is advertised as the finest and best equipped road beneath the sun.  Fine sleepers; all the way through, without change.  Special guarantee against accidents.  This road is laid with smooth, glass rails, and the wheels are made of India rubber.  Drinking saloons, beer gardens, and some other places I’ll not mention, are the wood yards and tanks, where fuel and water is procured which gets up the steam that draws the train with increasing velocity down to the great city of destruction.  When the train stops for wood and water, all the passengers are expected to take part in the very interesting and social performance.  But here are same boys who beg to be excused.  “Can’t excuse you,” cries the brakesman.  “Come along, you can take a small stick in the way of a cigar;” and so these boys, not wishing to appear ugly and incur the ill will of the