imes of the greatest magnitude, do it so daintily as to divest their
arguments of all force. The public cannot reasonably be expected to
apply a remedy for an evil, unless the cause as well as the effect be
exposed truthfully to its view. It is the knowledge of their existence
and the magnitude of their influence upon society, which no false
delicacy should keep out of sight, that nerves the good and generous to
action. I am aware that in exciting this action, great care should be
taken lest the young and weak-minded become fascinated with the gilding
of the machinery called to the writer's aid. It is urged by many good
people, who take somewhat narrow views of this subject, that in dealing
with the mysteries of crime vice should only be described as an ugly
dame with most repulsive features. I differ with those persons. It would
be a violation of the truth to paint her thus, and few would read of her
in such an unsightly dress. These persons do not, I think, take a
sufficiently clear view of the grades into which the vicious of our
community are divided, and their different modes of living. They found
their opinions solely on the moral and physical condition of the most
wretched and abject class, whose sufferings they would have us hold up
to public view, a warning to those who stand hesitating on the brink
between virtue and vice. I hold it better to expose the allurements
first, and then paint vice in her natural colors--a dame so gay and
fascinating that it is difficult not to become enamored of her. The ugly
and repulsive dame would have few followers, and no need of writers to
caution the unwary against her snares. And I cannot forget, that truth
always carries the more forcible lesson. But we must paint the road to
vice as well as the castle, if we would give effect to our warning. That
road is too frequently strewn with the brightest of flowers, the thorns
only discovering themselves when the sweetness of the flowers has
departed. I have chosen, then, to describe things as they are. You,
reader, must be the judge whether I have put too much gilding on the
decorations.

I confess that the subject of this work was not congenial to my
feelings. I love to deal with the bright and cheerful of life; to leave
the dark and sorrowful to those whose love for them is stronger than
mine. Nor am I insensible to the liabilities incurred by a writer who,
having found favor with the public, ventures upon so delicate and
hazardo