We have no doubt that many professors of religion are greatly sinning, as well as disgracing and dishonoring their profession, in the manner above described. But there is one trouble in writing or publishing any thing for that class. They are beyond the reach of writers. They subscribe for no religious publications, pay for none, and read none. They read nothing, unless it be some silly love tale, book of fashion, or mere novel. They can only be reached at all through older, wiser, and better heads, and then only occasionally, and but slightly. In most instances, the slightest reference to their inconsistent lives of folly and vanity, is regarded as a mortal offence. We were threatened, not long since, with being held _personally responsible_ for alluding to the mischief done by dancing masters, in a public discourse. It turned out that one was present, and, as if to publish himself as a live dancing master, distinguish himself and render himself as notorious as possible, immediately after the allusion to men of his calling, he cast his eye around the house, and saw all eyes upon him, when he bounced from his seat and went stamping out of the house, as if he intended trying the strength of the floor, every time he set down his foot. His _profession_ was too sacred to be alluded to without his being insulted. Some of the people, we learned, called him _Professor_——! Talk of preaching for such men! of writing to reform them! They would not hear an angel from heaven, unless he would wink at their dancing. They would not hear one who would rise from the dead, unless he would wink at their sin. If they could, they would lead our fair daughters to ruin, chuckle over the feat achieved, and dance on the graves of heart-broken fathers and mothers. They are leeches upon society, sucking the very life’s blood from the veins of better people, who suffer themselves to be gulled by them, and, at the same time, grinning like a weasel while cutting the throat of a chicken, and sucking its blood. The entire clan of amusement manufacturers, from the poor music grinder on the street, up to Barnum, are pulling down, discouraging and destroying the good built up by the hard toiling and struggles of good people. It is useless to talk of their being gentlemen, polite, or moral; their work is to pull down, to ruin, to destroy, and to sink men and women in hell. Their work is against every prayer, every exhortation and sermon; every Sunday school, church and gospel mission. We may preach and pray, toil and struggle in tears, with our hearts aching and bleeding, trying to save men, and so long as we countenance worthless and silly amusements, we shall not be successful in saving men. Not only so, but if we allow those who are determined to run their length in all these amusements, to hang upon us, they will sink us all. ACTIVITY IN THE MINISTRY.