The grog-shop, the brothel, and the gambling-room, are three of the blackest fountains of human misery over which the devil presides.  From these he gathers the bitterest waters of hellish destruction, and spreads them broad-cast over creation:  of which eternity can only measure the full amount.

The Temperance Cause has attacked one of those sinks of Satan; the Moral Reform enterprise has commenced upon another, and Mr. Green has now taken the third “bull by the horns.”  Money and talent, and the press, are enlisted against the two former, and shall we stand aloof, and leave Mr. Green to combat the dragon single-handed and alone?  It is high time the whole community was aroused to the desolating evils of Gambling; and the press, too, in thunder-tones, should be made to speak out upon this, as upon other soul-destroying vices of the land.

Mr. Green has given five Lectures in our village:  two in the Town Hall, two in the Methodist Church, and one in the State Prison.  On Sabbath, sixth instant, at four o’clock, P.M., he addressed the children of the several Sabbath-schools of the town, in the Methodist Episcopal Church, to good effect; and in the evening, the same house was filled to a perfect jam.  Here Mr. Green was listened to with the best possible attention; and I believe the great bulk of that immense throng, not only believed him a reformed man, but also that he was doing a good and necessary work in this country.

At nine o’clock, Sabbath morning, Mr. Green spoke to the unfortunate inmates of this prison, numbering some eight hundred convicts, besides a large concourse of citizens, who flocked to hear him at the same place.  His discourse was listened to in breathless silence by those men, and hundreds of them wept freely, while listening to a recital of the horrors of Gambling, as experienced during twelve wretched years of his own gambling life, and of his reformation and salvation by grace in Christ.  A deep and powerful impression pervaded the vast concourse, while all was graced by beautiful strains of vocal music by the “Boston Quartet Club,” and all passed off finely.

After Chapel service, Mr. Green and myself visited the cell of Henry Wyatt, the murderer of James Gordon, of which the papers have spoken.  They readily recognised each other, as having been members of the same gambling fraternity in the south and west.  More than fifty gamblers were named by them, whose doleful history was equally familiar to both.

Previous to this visit by Mr. Green, Wyatt had told me that gambling was the cause of his ruin.  At the close of our visit of some two hours, Mr. Green gave Wyatt a pathetic exhortation to read his Bible, and pray much, to repent of sin, and believe in Christ, and to seek religion as the only thing which could prepare him for his approaching doom.  Tears flowed freely, and Wyatt exclaimed, “What a pity it is that you had not come out in this way four years ago; then I should not have been here in chains, as you see me now.”  We wept together, and left his cell in silence.