In spite of police rules and the fact that there is a city ordinance prohibiting the admission of women in saloons in Chicago, in spite of the reported raids on dens in what has been known as the levee district for years, the writer indulged in a little slumming last evening. One engaged in Dr. Parkhurst’s favorite pastime need go but a few blocks from the Central Police Station to find sufficient fields of labor to keep one busy for days. South State street appeared to be more attractive to a man going out on such an expedition alone, for the section of the street chosen for the work was nearly as black as Hades while strictly speaking it was as light as day owing to the numerous arc lights which served to light the inexperienced to these shining dens of vice. The thrum of the guitar and the twang of the banjo and pounding of the piano served to entice me to enter a resort that is well known as the rendezvous of as precious a lot of thieving “old Mols,” pickpockets and grafters of all sorts as any city should care to boast. Upon my entrance my attention was attracted by the many signs of fresh paint which was smeared over the faces of the denizens of gaudy attire which in some cases could almost be described by saying they were attired in a pair of red hose and a short bodice. In many instances the flaring nostrils and flaming eyes were temporarily obscured by clouds of cigarette smoke, only to be assisted in their display of dissipation by a liberal supply of gold teeth, as the degraded creatures would eagerly open their carmined lips to receive again the agent of insanity. I was greeted with all the endearing terms known to the human tongue, from “Hello, sweetheart,” to “Honey, buy your baby a drink.” I saw everything from a friendly handshake to a hugging match behind an artificial palm. Every inducement to a man of virile, animal instincts was held out to the male visitors of this law abiding place, while the revolting scenes of depraved humanity were made more distasteful to the refined person on account of the pit of hellish wretchedness his fellow men had fallen into. So much for a city which is regarded as being under the surveillance, of proper authorities at all times. I sat down at a table alone. The three-man band struck up a waltz, the notes arose and mingled with smoke, curses and a discordant humming which came from the husky throats of a dozen or more wearers of bleached hair and otherwise falsified females. As the music continued I glanced around the large room. The sight of drunken men lolling over women whose only claim to life and conviviality was supplied by the effect of the different intoxicants which these daughters of misfortune had freely indulged in, was sufficiently disgusting to cause me to desire to make my exit without further delay.