truction of our young men. Indeed I may say with becoming
sincerity and truth, that they spread a poison over the community, and
act as the great enemy of our social system."

"Heigh ho!" ejaculates Madame Ashley, to the great delight of the throng
assembled, "Satan has come to rebuke sin." Madame bids his Honor a very
polite good morning, and takes her departure, looking disdainfully over
her shoulder as she disappears out of the door.

Not a little disturbed in his equanimity, the Judge pursues his charge.
"The clergy ought to keep their garments clear of such places, for being
the source of all evil, the effect on the community is not good--I mean
when such things are brought to light! I would address you frankly and
admonish you to go no more into such places. Let your ways merit the
approbation of those to whom you preach the Gospel. You can go.
Henceforth, live after the ways of the virtuous."

Parson Patterson thanks his Honor, begs to assure him of his innocence,
and seems only too anxious to get away. His Honor bows to Mr. Patterson,
Mr. Patterson returns it, and adds another for the audience, whereupon
the court adjourns, and so ends the episode. His Honor takes Mr.
Snivel's arm, and together they proceed to the "most convenient" saloon,
where, over a well-compounded punch, "the bench and the bar" compliment
each other on the happy disposal of such vexatious cases.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE HOUSE OF THE NINE NATIONS, AND WHAT MAY BE SEEN IN IT.

On the corner of Anthony street and the Points,[4] in New-York, there
stands, like a grim savage, the house of the Nine Nations, a dingy
wooden tenement, that for twenty years has threatened to tumble away
from its more upright neighbor, and before which the stranger wayfarer
is seen to stop and contemplate. In a neighborhood redolent of crime,
there it stands, its vices thick upon its head, exciting in the mind of
the observer its association with some dark and terrible deed. On the
one side, opens that area of misery, mud and sombre walls, called "Cow
Bay;" on the other a triangular plot, reeking with the garbage of the
miserable cellars that flank it, and in which swarms of wasting beings
seek a hiding-place, inhale pestilential air, and die. Gutters running
with seething matter; homeless outcasts sitting, besotted, on crazy
doorsteps; the vicious, with savage visage, and keen, watchful eye,
loitering at the doors of filthy "groceries;" the sickly and neglec