"We have now pointed out with dispassionate yet earnest words, the deplorable consequences of mis-governed sexual instinct on the individual, on his family, on his children, and through these, on society and the race at large. There remains for us to turn a still darker page and to reveal an abyss of misery, iniquity and disease, from which the philanthropist too often turns away with a shudder. This abyss is prostitution, the great social evil of our day, invading all grades of society, contaminating with leprous touch the fairest of our land, destroying the pure joys of the domestic hearth, the well spring of disgusting maladies, the inexhaustible source of all manner of evil. Too often the clergyman and statesman prefer to shut their eyes and shun the unpleasant topic. This is not our purpose. Such a course can command no admiration and effect no good results."

Unfortunately, as some of our readers well know, we have clergymen and statesmen who are not in the condition prescribed by our Savior "to throw the first stone." Dr. Napheys continues: "Rather will we risk the charge of over-plainness of speech than hesitate to exhibit the nature, the extent, and the consequences of this infecting ulcer in the body politic of our land. Our statements are based on careful studies of original documents, and the opinions of those physicians and philanthropists who have devoted most time to combating this pest. We shall aim to exhibit is as it actually exists in our midst, choosing the most trustworthy and the most recent sources of information, and promising that all our statements are taken directly from original authorities."

"There is no branch of social science that offers greater difficulties to the investigator than that which concerns itself with the number, the life, the fate and condition of fallen women.

The

great majority of them entirely elude the searches of the police, and conceal their calling under some outward garb of honest occupation. Before we proceed, therefore, to estimate the numbers in our large cities, we must explain the different class

es in which they are divided. The police reports of our great cities divide them into 'public prostitutes,' 'waiter girls,' and 'kept women' or 'private mistresses.'” These latter may move, and undoubtedly do move, in the circles of the very best society: and, no doubt frequently meet and associate with the wives of men who keep them. For, so says our author, "many of the mistresses dress as well, drive as elegant equipages, and behave in public as decorously as any lady." Speaking of that class of unfortunates who bear assumed names and are "movable," "they are of all nationalities, Americans and Germans predominating; the Celtic race, that is the Scotch, Welsh and Irish, being in the minority, in proportion to the general population. What is surprising, in Philadelphia, New York, and probably other northern cities, there are houses fitted up with considerable expense in which all the inmates are mixed, negro and white blood, quadroons and octoroons. They are patronized exclusively by white men."

"The houses of assignation, according to the police reports of New York, are yearly on the increase, while the houses of prostitution are decreasing." This tells its own story, and shows that while the business is still carried on more secretly, it is being supported by the so called better classes of society, and not so much by those who are considered degraded beyond hopes of reclamation. "With these explanations in mind, we shall proceed to estimate the magnitude of this great evil in some of our cities, and thus show the imperative importance in a hygienic as well as a purely moral view, of taking some measure to curb it. According to the police reports of 1869 there were in New York and Brooklyn four hundred and ninety six houses of prostitution and one hundred and seven houses of assignation. The whole number of women known to the police as public prostitutes was two thousand one hundred and seven; but various competent authorities estimate the actual number of those who subsist in great part or entirely on the wages of sin at the enormous number of thirty thousand."

Thus, by this estimate, made by our own authorities, by friends, not enemies, we learn that over seventy five per cent of the prostitutes known in those two cities is of that kind designated as "private" prostitution. Or, to put it plainer, of the thirty thousand degraded women who sell their bodies and souls to gratify the lust of men in New York and Brooklyn, nearly twenty-eight thousand of them are supported by "private" contributions of "private" men, married as well as others. Is this a "national dishonor?" We cannot say, for we know not how much of this sort of abomination, filth and disease will constitute "National Dishonor"! But we know that such pollu

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tions are a stink in the nostrils of the Almighty God, and they should be so in those of every pure minded man and woman in Christendom. How far the acts of individuals, though their name be legion, would, in a free country, constitute "national dishonor," the writer is not prepared to say; but cannot fail to think where prominent government officials, law makers and judges not only wink at, but actually criminate themselves in their heaven condemned pollutions, which bring the curse of God upon the people, that the nation, if not in the eyes of Christians "dishonored," is sadly, sadly tainted, and morally disgraced.

Moses Thatcher.

I.

LONDON TO HAMBURG.

THE tight, little, deep-sea steamers plying between London and Hamburg are officered by a race of England's jolliest mariners. The captains are those square built, ruddy faced, offhand, swearing fellows, who always seem to fill their double-breasted, brass-buttoned coats a little two full, and gain temporary relief by the letting off from time to time of the surplus profanity which swells them up. They are of that class of captainstheir vessels being confined to second class oceans-who are not above the proverbial yarn spinning characteristics, which have made sea captains famous the world over. On the Atlantic steamers, it is beneath the dignity of the scientific commanders to tell stories; they talk international politics and entertain the saloon passengers, from the head of the captain's table, with learned disquisitions on religion, supplemented with small talk, of the most approved and aesthetic order, for the ladies.

The stout fisted, brawny Englishman, full of beer and profanity, who commanded the Sir Robert Peel, was not of the above description. He had been a whaler in the Arctic ocean, and told of ships collided with icebergs, boats cap

sized by the flap of a whale's tail, hairbreadth escapes from a thousand dangers, of spectacles in the water and the sky, and how the sagacity or courage of brave captains, mates or forecastlemen had saved the ship, discovered an abandoned crew, or accomplished an extraordinary run in the face of unsurpassed difficulties. As long as consciousness remained-it succumbed to mixed drinks at the moment the pilot came on board at the mouth of the Elbe-the captain talked, more to the wonderment than the instruction of his guests.

The voyage from the Thames across the German ocean to the broad and beautiful Elbe, is one of many pleasures and few discomforts, provided you are on the right ship with fair weather; in case the vessel is inferior and the sea tempest-torn, as is most generally the condition, one must be a philosopher or a mariner to find any satisfaction in it. The innumerable fishing craft, sailing vessels, yachts and steamers, from all ports of the world seeking the harbor of Hamburg and the coast of England, give the surface of the North Sea the appearance of being more thickly inhabited than any other of the oceans. You never out of sight of a vessel, and land birds follow you from one

are

shore to the other. The lower Elbe is a broad picturesque stream, and affords one of the pleasantest river excursions in northern Germany. Its hilly banks are cultivated and adorned with beautiful villas, small fishing towns, and the imposing commercial city of Hamburg, which, with its forest of masts rising from the harbor, rivals the great sea ports of Liverpool and Glasgow.

Hamburg contains about three hundred thousand inhabitants, and is the principal shipping town of northern Europe. It is situated about sixty miles from the mouth of the Elbe, and on a small stream called the Alster, which forms a large basin outside the town and a smaller one within it, and is then discharged through locks into the canals which flow through the lower part of the town. Nothing is known of the origin of Hamburg. It was doubtless settled at a very early period, its natural advantages distinguishing it as a most desirable site for a great city. In the time of Charlemagne, from 805 A. D., that emperor gave it considerable attention, building a castle there and founding a church, which was raised afterwards to the rank of an arch-bishopric. During the succeeding centuries the town was frequently pillaged by Danes and Normans, but under the jurisdiction of Adolph IV,and other counts of Holstein, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, Hamburg was very greatly favored, many of the privileges and immunities which formed the foundation of its subsequent independence being then secured. In the thirteenth century Hamburg entered into treaty with Lubeck, and formed with other cities the powerful Hanseatic League, which embraced ninety cities, and became a most powerful, peaceloving but progressive and conquering organization. It subdued southern Sweden and Denmark, and for over

a most disastrous conflict ensued, the inhabitants suffering great indignities and hardships from the French. During this period of disorder it is said that the city lost the enormous sum of thirteen million pounds. After the peace of Vienna, Hamburg rapidly increased in population, wealth and power, and notwithstanding the disastrous fire of 1842, when a fourth of the city was destroyed, she has continued to prosper, and to-day ranks among the first independent cities of the world.

The attractions of Hamburg beyond those which her cosmopolitan commerce create-located about the harbor and exchange-are meagre. The pleasantest portion of the city is around the Binnen Alster, which is a mile in circumference, and is navigated by small screw steamers, sail boats, canoes, etc. On three sides of this basin the finest buildings are erected and occupied by the best shops, while the northern side consists of a wide promenade adorned with trees and fine shrubbery; it separates the small inner basin from the Aussen Alster, which is very large, extending beyond the city limits several miles; its banks are lined with country residences and pleasant woods and drives.

The exchange is the daily scene of great commotion; for two or three hours every afternoon, from four to five thousand brokers, merchants and shipowners congregate there and create a perfect babel. Their noisy calls and bids, frantic gestures, pushing and clamoring, as viewed from the gallery above them, are more suggestive of an insane asylum than of a commercial mart, where values and discounts are being negotiated. The building is a very large one, containing a reading room, restaurant and commercial library of forty thousand volumes. The Botanical and Zoological Gardens of Hamburg are among the best of Germany, particularly the latter, which is supplied by voyagers from all parts of the globe with curious animals, birds and reptiles. A good aquarium is connected with it, in which may be seen specimens of the finny tribe from all the navigable waters of the world.

His situation was indeed pitiable. Conscious of guilt, but still too proud to repent; stubborn and unbending to his God and forsaken by his fellowman; he hung like a target between heaven and earth, unshielded from above and unpitied from below, exposed in all his moral nakedness to the keen fiery darts of envy, reprobation and revenge. It was then he discovered that his seemingly high aim had been low; that his time and his talents had been wasted in the pursuit of a bodiless illusion; that the bright, alluring path which he had chosen, instead of leading him, as he had hoped, through bowers of bliss to a garden of glory beyond, had enticed him up the devious, rock-strewn mountain-side, filled his sensitive flesh with thorns and briers, and left him cold and bleeding upon the naked rocks of disappointment and despair. Such was the fate of this man of "sublime possibilities," but mistaken aspirations; such is the fate awaiting every man who labors to exalt and glorify himself, and neglects to seek first the Kingdom of God and its righteousness.

But the case of Lord Byron is only one picked out of ten thousand. The unhappy consequences of being eminent are shown forth in the lives of the best as well as the brightest of mankind. We are quite as often called upon to commiserate the lot of the prominent among men, as to gaze with envious or admiring eyes upon their exalted station. No matter where we may look for an illustration of this fact, any field wherein it is possible for man to excel his fellow-man will readily furnish an abundance of examples. Like a mark to be shot at is the man who either lifts himself or is lifted into any kind of conspicuousness. He was a clear observer who said that censure was a tax, paid for the privilege of being eminent. I recollect with much distinctness, in the days of early childhood, how heartily hated by his schoolmates was the boy of model behavior, who wore the teacher's silver medal as a reward for well learned lessons and exemplary deportment. Though totally innocent of any other offence, he was made the butt of every jest, the victim

of every ruse, the object of every humiliating word or action which jealous spleen had the power to inflict. We older children look back and laugh over these childish reminiscences, and not unlike the self-righteous Pharisee, who "would not have stoned the prophets if he had lived in their day," vainly imagine that such things belong entirely to the past.

Men, however, are but "children of a larger growth," and too often manifest, even in their old age, the selfish and unreasonable traits exhibited in their days of childhood. All are not alike. Some sincerely struggle against, and succeed in conquering their evil impulses, and frequently, in their stead, develop rare virtues which once gave little if any evidence of existence, while others are fortunate in the absence of such vices and the possession of these virtues from the beginning. Nevertheless, there are men now living, and their name is legion, who either have never studied to subdue their selfish passions, or have made little perceptible progress in the work of subjugation. Men who seem to be forever miserable if they see anybody else attempting to be otherwise; who, like "the lean and hungry Cassius," are never at ease while they behold one greater than themselves; who labor all day and lie awake nights, devising schemes of treachery that will hinder the advancement of their rivals, and ruin the hopes and happiness of those who have attained or are striving to attain, the summit of their legitimate desires.

Put the passion of envy is not confined to any particular class. The successful man who has "reached the highest point of all his greatness" is quite as apt to exhibit it as the disappointed seeker after name and position. The young are envious of the honors of the old, and the old are jealous of the encroachments of the young. There is a class more expressively than elegantly termed "old fogies," who seem to think that the glory of life went out with the last sun set and that it would be the climax of folly and presumption for another sun to attempt to rise upon the world, who apparently imagine