Was not John Chambers right? He had a just fear of the real influence of these methods of killing time. Furthermore, those who can remember the Chestnut street, of even as late as the sixties, need not wonder at his earnest and pointed preaching--for every sermon-bullet of John Chambers hit the target, and usually the bull's eye. In language not to be mistaken and often with tears, he called upon young men and women to rise upon higher levels into a more spiritual life than was then common. A realistic description of the vice, that openly flaunted itself on Philadelphia's gayest street, would not here be in good taste, or be relished if given; but it was something horrible. Whether the world, on the whole, is getting better or worse, it is quite certain that the houses of ill-fame, the midnight street-walkers and the pictures once visible in public places and in the saloons, inexpressibly obscene as they were, are not found at the present time, or if so, are much more concealed, for they have at least been driven to cover. It seemed to be the idea of the young minister that he ought to know what was going on in the world, and to teach his people to know, while yet choosing the pure, and avoiding the impure. He was liberal enough in his attitude to his brethren of other names, always working with them in practical religion. Some of the years of his first marriage were spent on Arch street, near 13th street. In later years he lived on Walnut above Broad on the south side. From about the time of "the war" and until his death, he dwelt at the corner of 12th and Girard street north of Chestnut. Thus his whole pastoral life was spent in the very heart of the city, seeing things as they were, and with his eyes open to the manner in which the people amused themselves. CHAPTER VIII. "THE WAR HORSE OF THE TEMPERANCE CAUSE." A large number, and probably a majority of the large congregation which soon gathered around John Chambers, were people from Scotland or Scottish-Ireland, and, like most of this sturdy race, were very fond of both religion and whiskey. The customs of society in the thirties made the social glass very frequent. The chief decoration of the sideboard was usually a decanter and glasses. Even a funeral was not considered complete in all its appointments, unless there was plenty of liquor drunk before the corpse was taken out of the house, much more being consumed when the company came back.