Though a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and is the surest road to wealth, yet there are thousands, who pay but little attention to possess themselves of so valuable a treasure. They turn a deaf ear to that hallowed voice, which pleads with them in behalf of their dearest interest, and take the downward road to dissipation and vice, and, by their wretched example, lead other thousands to the dark abodes of sorrow, grief and pain. Enchanted by the siren voice of false and fleeting pleasure, they hurry to the tremendous precipice, where reputation and fortune lie in broken ruins. There they drag out a wretched existence in disappointed hope, satiety and disgust. They pay their devotions at the shrine of ignominy, where the dark and stagnant waters of guilt and condemnation roll. There the sweet voice of heaven-born peace was never heard, and the beauteous feet of religion never trod. There dwells the family of pain--there is the hell we are cautioned to avoid. This is not an illusion of fancy--it is no reverie of the brain, but a reality too visible in the pathway of human life. Thousands, in this condition, are hurrying to a premature grave, and go down to that dark abode covered with infamy, having robbed themselves of all the substantial joys, that a virtuous conduct, and a good unsullied name are calculated to awaken in the heart. Dissipation darkens the brightest prospects of life. It rolls its floods of misery indiscriminately over the dearest earthly hopes of companions, children and friends, and paralyzes every pulse of joy that beats in the human bosom. Many a child has been spurned from the presence of its brutal father, and been beaten for asking bread to satisfy its hunger. Intemperance stupefies man to the moral impressions of the gospel, and hardens the heart with the touch of its benumbing powers. It is the giant of human wo that slays his thousands and prostrates the happiness of man. This champion of human war draws his sword of vengeance against the balmy repose of public and private life, and his fatal touch withers the brightest flowers of domestic hope and joy, and mingles the poisonous bowl with the bitter drugs of misery. His government is absolute monarchy, and his subjects the most contemptible slaves. When he lays upon them his cursed hand, they reel to the ground. When he strikes the stunning blow, they drop insensibly to the earth. The oppressions and scourges of the most wretched slave are enviable in comparison with those severe wounds inflicted by this merciless tyrant, this infernal scourge of the human race. Intemperance is a monster that may well be personified. He frolicks through the blood, preys upon the vitals, ploughs up the brain, dethrones reason and laughs at the feeble resistance of the best constitution, and finally bears down all opposition before him. Like the devouring flame, he presses on with irresistible force, urging his