Mr. World passed through from one section to another, studying carefully the secret processes in vogue, while illustrations, drawn by the artists of the Devil, instead of sending the blush of shame to his cheek, only fed his inner curiosity and verily aroused his baser passions. Having finished, he gave the pass-word and was admitted to a sub-department called Foeticide. This section, and the one he had just left, were located directly under the physicians’ offices along the King’s Highway. It could be seen that there was direct connection between these offices and the horrible subterraneous apartments through which Mr. World was now passing. So many unnatural and horrible things were practiced in this sub- department that Mr. World was shocked beyond measure, for he had never dreamed of the extent of the malpractice to which his eyes here bore testimony. All these things, while at first revolting, were only hardening his own heart to such an extent that, before he had passed through the last wing of the department, and heard the apologetic words of those who were in charge, he concluded that these agencies conduced to much good. “Oh!” thought I, “how the light of Hell casts a strange coloring over the things of earth, thereby creating false theories of mortal life.” By means of the pass-word Mr. World was enabled to visit the next department where he witnessed sights more revolting than in any place previously entered. Here groveled the youth under the power of so-called stimulating medicaments. Mr. World, with all his wickedness, was chilled with horror at these underground spectacles. Noticing his evident disgust, one came to him and offered soothing explanations to which he listened very attentively. “This is a blessed place,” spoke the newcomer. “We, who are skilled in crime, give the youthful an expert training in the ways of pollution and kindred types of immorality. It is far better to teach the young to sin aright and with least damage to themselves, than to place them under all restraint and see them fall more wretchedly than these.” With all the moral turpitude of Mr. World he was scarcely ready, at first hearing, to accept this grinding sophistry of Hell. “Are you quite sure, my friend, doubted Mr. World, that you are speaking words of soberness to me? Do you feel proud of the results of the work here accomplished?”