In the July number of Packard's Monthly, an able and sprightly magazine, published in this city, there appeared an article by Mr. Oliver Dyer, entitled "The Wickedest Man in New York." It was a lengthy and interesting account of a dance-house, carried on at No. 304 Water street - one of the vilest sections of the city - by one John Allen, and of the proprietor himself. As many of our readers may not have seen this article, we give portions of it, referring them to the magazine for the rest.

The Wickedest Man in New York goes by the name of John Allen. He lives at No. 304 Water street. He keeps a dance-house there. He is about forty-five years old. He is reputed to be worth one hundred thousand dollars, more or less, and is known to be worth over seventy thousand dollars. He has three brothers, who are clergymen - two of them being Presbyterians, and the other a Baptist - and is reported to have once been a minister of the Gospel himself. He is known formerly to have been a school teacher, and is a man of education and fine natural powers; was originally a good man; and is yet a 'good fellow' in many respects. Were it not for his good qualities he never could have attained unto the bad eminence of being the Wickedest Man in New York.

The best bad is always the worst.

Take him for all in all, our Wickedest Man is a phenomenon. He reads the Bible to his dance-house girls, and his favorite papers are the New York Observer and the Independent. He takes them regularly, and reads them. We have repeatedly seen them lying on the counter of his bar-room, amid decanters and glasses, along with the daily Herald and the Sun. We have also seen a dozen copies of the Little Wanderer's Friend at a time scattered about his place, for he takes an interest in mission work, and 'goes in' generally for progress for other people.

This Wickedest Man is the only entity appertaining to the shady side of New York life which we have been unable to fathom, analyze, and account for. But he is too much for us. Why a human being of his education, natural tastes, force of character, and wealth, should continue to live in a Water street dance-house, and bring up his children in a soul-destroying atmosphere of sin and degradation, is more than we can comprehend.

For the Wickedest Man loves his children. His little five-year-old boy is the apple of his eye, the core of his heart, and the chief object of his worship. He never misses an opportunity to sound the child's praises, and to show off his accomplishments. And all things considered, the little fellow is truly a wonder. He is crammed full of information on all manner of topics, and is ever ready to respond to his doting father's attempts to make his smartness visible to the naked eye.

We have never visited the Wickedest Man's dance-house without having our attention called afresh to his little son's abilities, except once, and then he took us round to the school which the child attends, to let us see that he ranks with the best, and is a favorite with his teacher. That was on the 28th day of May last, at about a quarter to twelve in the day time, when we went to No. 304 Water street, to tell Mr. Allen that the fated time had come for serving him up in a magazine article.

For be it known to the reader, we have had our pen couched at John Allen for nearly two years. In the year 1865, the Sabbath after President Lincoln was assassinated, we began an exploration and sub-soiling of New York city, as to its crime, poverty, want, woe, wretchedness, and degradation, which we have pursued ever since, as other engagements would permit. Of course, it was not long before we found out John Allen. We at once recognized his genius for wickedness, and made him an especial study. But, as we have said, he baffles us. We have told him so, and have frequently asked him to help us out of our dilemma, but he always comes short of the complete thing.

We think we know why this Wickedest Man persists in living in his Water street den - that we have, in fact, penetrated his secret; but as we are not absolutely certain as to the matter, we will not set our suspicion down in print, lest we should do him injustice.

We have said that our Wickedest Man is a phenomenon. We meant this in its application to the deepest springs of his character; but it is also, and perhaps equally, applicable to the external manifestations of those deepest springs.

Has the reader any notion of a Water street dance-house? Concretely stated, it is a breathing hole of hell - trap-door of the bottomless pit. You step from the street into a bar-room, wherein lousy loafers lurk, and which is, in some cases, on a level with the sidewalk, and in others far below it; and there you are in the general midst of things, if it happens to be a dance-house of the very lowest class. But usually there is a 'saloon' in the rear of the bar-room.

Passing out of the bar-room by a door opening in a partition across its rear, you enter the dancing-saloon, which varies in size from a room fifteen feet square to a room twenty-five to fifty feet in extent. Along the wall of this room a bench extends, usually on three sides. In the farther end of the room is an orchestra, proportioned in numbers and skill to the prosperity of the establishment. The number of musicians is sometimes as high as six, but the average is not more than three. In one of the rear corners of the saloon there is a small bar, where the girls can drink with their victims without exposing their fascinations to the unthriftful gaze of a non-paying and censorious outside public.

Sitting upon the benches, or grouped upon the floor, or whirling in the dance, are the girls, varying in number from four to twenty, but averaging about ten.

These girls are not often comely to the fastidious eye. But to a sailor, just from a long cruise where nothing lovelier than his weather-beaten shipmates has for years been seen, they are not without attractions. So, too, do certain landsmen, of a degraded type, pay homage to their strenuous charms. But a decent man, in the full possession and equipoise of his faculties, can only regard them with sorrow unspeakable, and pity too deep for tears.

The only girl we ever saw in a dance-house, in whom we could detect the slightest vestige of comeliness or refinement, had been there but a few hours, and was reputed to be the daughter of a former Lieutenant-Governor of a New England State.

The first time we entered John Alien's dance-house we found it in full blast. The hour was eleven in the evening. There were thirteen girls in the saloon, three musicians in the orchestra, and seven customers submitting to the blandishments of an equal number of the ballet- dressed syrens who pervaded the room. Our party consisted of the policeman who accompanied us, three clergymen on the look out for the "elephant," Mr. Albert C. Arnold, of the Howard Mission, and the writer.

The Wickedest Man was in his glory. Things were moving briskly. He gave us all a hearty welcome, ordered the orchestra to do their best, and told the girls to 'break our hearts.' A vigorous dance followed, after which the proprietor called out:

'Hartford, go up stairs and get my baby.' Hartford turned out to be one of the girls, who immediately disappeared and soon returned, bearing in her arms an undressed sleepy child, wrapped in a shawl. This was the juvenile prodigy. His father took him in his arms, with a glow of pride and affection.

'Now, gentlemen, you are writers, philosophers, and preachers; but I'll show that my baby knows as much as any of you. He's hell on reading, writing, praying and fighting.'

And without more ado, he stood the sleepy little fellow upon the floor and began to catechize him in ancient history, both sacred and profane, and then in modern history, geography, the political history of the United States, etc., etc., with a result which astounded all. Suddenly he exclaimed:

'Chester, give me a song.'

And Chester, for that is the child's name, gave us a song.

'Now, Chester, give us a break-down.' The orchestra played a 'break-down,' and Chester danced it with precision and vigor, his mother looking on with delight.

"'Now, Chester, give us a prayer."

And the child recited, first the Lord's Prayer, and then others in succession mixed with which were so much ribaldry and profanity on the father's part as cut us to the heart. And here it was that we got a glimpse of the pre-eminent wickedness of the man-wickedness to him unknown, and all the worse because of his unconsciousness of it; wickedness which is leading him to train up that idolized boy in a way and in an atmosphere which will yet make him an object of loathing, even to his own heart.

For that dance-house child there seems to be no spiritual hope. The sacred and the profane are so intermingled in his childish understanding, that he will never be able to tell which is sacred and which is profane; and his nature being dogged and combative, he will grow up into the highest possible type of wickedness, if he grows up at all. Of the thousand of painful cases wherewith we have met in this city, that of little Chester Allen gives us about the keenest pang.

After the infant phenomenon had been sent back to bed, his father asked our party if we wouldn't 'mix in' and have a dance with the girls.

'It'll do you good,' said he, 'to trip it a little on the light fantastic. Besides, I like to do the fair thing by distinguished visitors. I'm fond of literary people, and especially of clergymen. I've three brothers myself who adorn the sacred calling; and grit and grace run through our family, like the Tigris and the Jordan through the Holy Land. Go in, gentlemen; the girls shan't hurt you. I'll watch over you like a hen over her chickens, and you shall leave my premises as virtuous as - you came in! Ha, ha! Come, what shall it be?'

On being assured that we would not 'trip it on the light fantastic,' he asked us if we (that is, our party) would not favor the girls with a song, whereupon Mr. Arnold suggested that we should all sing together, and asked the girls what they would like best. Several of them immediately responded in favor of 'There is Rest for the Weary.'

'Do you know that? one of the clergymen asked.

'Yes;' answered at least half-a-dozen of the girls.

'Where did you learn it?' asked another of the clergymen.

"'At Sabbath-school," was the reply.

We all looked at one another. Here was a revelation. These girls had been brought up to attend Sabbath-school! Perhaps they were the daughters of Christian parents! But we had not time to pursue this painful speculation, for the girls began to sing - 
     'In the Christian's home in Glory 
     There is a land of rest; 
     And my Saviour's gone before me, 
     To fulfil my soul's request. 
     'CHORUS: There is rest for the weary, 
     There is rest for you, 
     On the other side of Jordan, 
     In the sweet fields of Eden, 
     Where the Tree of Life is blooming, 
     There is rest for you.'

And oh, with what fervor and pathos they sang - especially the chorus - which, at the end of each verse they sang three times over; some of them, at last, weeping as they sang. What girlish memories, those sweet, simple strains evoked! Memories, perhaps, of once happy homes, and affectionate Sabbath-school teachers, and beloved companions, so sweetly contrasting with their dance-house condition. And so, those soul-weary creatures lingered fondly upon, and repeated over and over again, the lines: 
     'On the other side of Jordan, 
     In the sweet fields of Eden, 
     Where the Tree of Life is blooming, 
     There is rest for you.'

Since that occasion we have repeatedly visited the abode of the Wickedest Man in New York, for the purpose of 'studying him up,' and of trying to hit upon some means of inducing him to abandon his course of life, and of saving his boy. For in truth we not only feel an interest in, but also rather like him, wicked as he is. And so does nearly everybody whom we have taken to see him; and we have taken scores - most of them clergymen.

But all our efforts to get any vital hold upon him have been in vain. He is always cordial; always ready to let the girls 'have a spiritual sing;' will even permit a little exhortation to them in his dancing saloon; and is free with his Observer and Independent. But he keeps on his way with unyielding pertinacity.

On one occasion a party of us suggested that he should let us hold a prayer-meeting in his saloon. After a little reflection, he replied:

'Well, no, gentlemen, I can't go that. You know that every man must have regard to his profession and the opinion of his neighbors. What with my Observer and Independent, and you fellows coming here and singing camp-meeting hymns, I am already looked upon in the neighborhood as being rather loose and unsound; and if, a-top of all that, I should let you hold a prayer-meeting here, I should lose what little character I've left.'

But our friend Arnold, of the Howard Mission, was determined to achieve the prayer-meeting. And during the fourth week in May last, when there were many of his clerical friends in the city, Mr. Arnold thought he'd bring a heavy spiritual cannonade to bear on Allen, and see what would come of it. So, on Monday night, May 25th, after a carefully conducted preliminary season of prayer, an assaulting party was formed, including six clergymen from different parts of the country, to march upon the citadel of the enemy. When we arrived, it was half past twelve; the window-shutters were closed, and we feared we were too late. But a light shone through the window over the door, and on application we were admitted, and received a hearty welcome. Allen was just then undergoing a shampooing process; for the purpose, as he frankly stated, of enabling him to go to bed sober. He added:

'You see, gentlemen, it won't do for a business man to go to bed drunk, nor for a literary man either. So now, you just take my advice, and whenever you find yourself drunk about bedtime, you just take a good shampoo, and you'll find the investment will pay a big dividend in the morning. But walk into the saloon, gentlemen; walk in. The girls are in there taking a rest and a smoke, after the arduous duties of the evening. Walk in.'

We walked in, and found the girls smoking pipes, and sitting and lounging about the room. In a few minutes Allen came in and proposed to have the girls dance for us, but we declined.

'Well then, Arnold, let's have a song,' he exclaimed.

Mr. Arnold, as usual, asked the girls what they would like to hear, and they at once asked for their favorite - 'There is Rest for the Weary.'

'Here, mother, give me my fiddle,' said Allen to his wife, 'and bring out the books,' meaning the Little Wanderer's Friend, of which he keeps a supply.

The books were got out by one of the girls, the fiddle was handed him by his wife, and Allen led off on the treble, all hands joining in. There were eleven girls in the room, and they sang in the chorus with unusual fervor, even for them. As soon as this song was finished, a couple of the girls, simultaneously, asked for 'There's a Light in the Window for Thee, Brother,' which was sung with emphasis and feeling.

At the conclusion of the last-mentioned song, Mr. Arnold believed that the appointed hour had come, and, tapping Allen on the shoulder, he said:

'Well, John, old boy, give us your hand: I feel just like praying here with you!'

Allen took the extended hand and gruffly said, 'What, pray? Do you mean pray? No, sir, never!'

'Well, John, responded Mr. Arnold, 'I am going to pray here, anyhow. If I don't pray loud I'll pray soft. You shan't lose the prayer, at any rate.'

'Well, Arnold, mind, now, if you pray I won't hear you; mind that. I don't know any thing about it. I won't hear you.'

And backing slowly out of the room, and repeating, 'I won't hear you,' over and over again, Allen went through the door leading to the bar, and closed it after him.

Mr. Arnold then invited the girls to join in prayer with him, which they did, some of them kneeling on the floor, as did the visitors, and others bowing their heads upon their hands, while Allen peered through the window of the partition door upon the singular scene.

Mr. Arnold's heart was almost too full for utterance, but his fervor soon unloosed his tongue, and he poured out a simple, direct, and heartfelt prayer, which told powerfully upon the hearers. Many of the girls arose, sobbing, to their feet, and several of them crowded around Mr. Arnold, and begged him, in the name of God, to take them from that place. They would work their hands off, if honest work could be got for them; they would submit to any hardship if they could only be restored to opportunities for virtue and a Christian life.

Poor Arnold! He was the picture of despair. It came upon him, all at once, that there is no help for such, this side the grave. He had at last conquered his opportunity, and prayed with these children of sin and shame, and now that they were calling upon him to answer his own prayer - to give them a chance to eat the bread of life - he had to put them off with the stone of evasion.

Take them from that place! Where could he take them? In all this Christian land there is not a Christian home that would open its doors to a repentant female sinner, except to turn her out of the house.

On calling upon Mr. Arnold the next day, we found him in the room at the Mission, with his head bowed upon the table, as though in prayer. Looking up at us with blazing eyes, exclaimed:

'Sir, what is to be done about this?'

'About what?' we asked.

'These poor girls,' he replied. 'I have been thinking and praying, and praying and thinking over it all night, but I can see no light. Sir, (pressing his head between his hands,) I shall go mad.'

There are about forty dance-houses in Mr. Allen's neighborhood; that is to say, within a half mile square, of which No. 304 Water street is the centre. The average number of girls in each of these houses, the season through, is ten, making four hundred in them all. So that, to feed this half mile square of infamy requires eighty fresh girls per annum. To feed the entire city, requires an average of two thousand one hundred and ninety-four a year, which is a trifle over six a day, Sunday included! Six fresh girls a day from the Sabbath-schools and virtuous homes of the land, to feed the licentious maw of this metropolis of the western world.

                     THE WATER STREET REVIVAL.

The result of the publication of Mr. Dyer's article, was to centre upon John Allen an unusual share of public attention. Certain clergymen in the city, thinking the occasion a proper one for endeavoring to create a religious awakening amongst the worst classes of the city, determined to endeavor to induce John Allen to abandon his wicked ways, and lead a better life, hoping that his conversion would have a powerful influence upon his class. They went to work. On the 30th of August, 1868, John Allen's house was closed for the first time in seventeen years. A handbill posted on the door, contained the following announcement:

                     THIS DANCE-HOUSE IS CLOSED.

"No gentlemen admitted unless accompanied by their wives, who wish to employ Magdalenes as servants." On the next day it was announced that Allen had abandoned his infamous vocation, never to resume it.

In order to do justice to all parties, we give the following, which states the case of the originators of the revivals in their own words. The paper is signed by J. M. Ward, M.D.; Rev. H. C. Fish, D.D.; Rev. W. C. Van Meter; A. C. Arnold; Rev. W. H. Boole; Rev. F. Browne; Oliver Dyer; Rev. Isaac M. Lee; Rev. Mr. Huntington.

The facts are as follows:

First. - At midnight on Saturday, the 29th day of August, 1868, JOHN ALLEN closed his dance-house, No. 304 Water Street, where he had for nearly seventeen years kept a rum shop and house of prostitution. As soon after such closing of the dance-house as the rooms could be arranged for the purpose, a prayer-meeting was held in the dancing saloon, with the concurrence of Mr. ALLEN and his wife. This meeting was begun at about half an hour after midnight, and continued until one o'clock in the morning. It was conducted and participated in by Messrs. ALBERT C. ARNOLD, Rev. H. C. BEACH and OLIVER DYER; and there were present Mr. and Mrs. ALLEN, the girls of the establishment, and a couple of ALLEN's neighbors, one of whom had been a liquor seller in the Fourth Ward for twenty years.

Second. - On the next day, the Sabbath, Mr. ALLEN attended worship, in the afternoon, at the Howard Mission, and then and there publicly announced that he had closed his dance-house, never to open it again for any evil purpose. On the evening of the same day, a public prayer- meeting was for the first time held in ALLEN's house, hundreds of persons of all classes crowding the premises, among whom were some of the most abandoned characters of the neighborhood.

Third. - Since these meetings were begun, they have been continued daily from noon till one o'clock, P. M., in Mr. ALLEN'S house; and on Sabbath, there have been large outdoor meetings in front of the premises. On the 11th of September, the house of THOMAS HADDEN, No. 374 Water street, kept as a low groggery and sailor's boarding-house, was also opened for religious services, at the hour of 12 o'clock; the rooms being filled to overflowing, multitudes being unable to enter. At the same hour a prayer-meeting was in progress at Allen's, and another upon the sidewalk opposite, to accommodate those who could not get within the doors at either Allen's or Hadden's.

Fourth. - These meetings have been attended and sustained by Christians of all denominations, and have uniformly been characterized by extraordinary fervency and power. The congregations have been, to a considerable extent, composed of sailors and residents of the Ward, (the Fourth,) which is known as the worst ward in the city. Some of the most wretched outcasts of this infamous locality have been present, and have, in several instances, requested prayer and private religious instruction; some cases resulting, as it is hoped, in their permanent reformation and conversion.

                     THE OTHER SIDE.

It is hardly possible that such religious demonstrations as the prayer- meetings which were held in Water street in September, 1868, could fail to do good to some one. The friends of the movement, however, made a grave mistake in announcing and spreading the report of John Allen's conversion, and even in allowing him to take part in their meetings, when it was known to them that he was not even a repentant, much less a converted man. The announcement of his conversion set on foot an inquiry, on the part of the press of the city, the results of which are thus stated by the New York Times, of September 19th.

The highly sensational stories concerning the 'wickedest man in New York,' with which the eyes and ears of the public have been regaled of late, have awakened an interest in John (Van) Allen such as has not been felt since the ever memorable reformation of 'Awful' (Orville) Gardner, the notorious pugilist and gambler, who, nearly eleven years ago, suddenly forsook the prize ring and the card table, with their vile associations, and began to live like an honest man, and a respectable member of society. Gardner was for several years a companion of Allen's in a line of open, shameless sinning, and was classed with the very lowest strata of humanity. When his 'conversion' was announced there were few that believed in the man's sincerity, while fewer still had any faith in the thoroughness or probable perpetuity of the reformation. Gardner deceived the masses of his fellows, however, by adhering strictly to his solemn pledge to 'serve God in the future as zealously as he had served Satan in the past,' and to this day he has indorsed that oath with a life of the most irreproachable character.

The same depth of popular interest that was born with the reformation of the prize-fighter and gambler, in 1857, was brought forth recently, when the community was startled with the strange news that the King of Water street dance-house keepers had abandoned his wicked business, and, like his associate of old, had promised to devote the remainder of his days to serving the highest interests of mankind. That Gardner was sincere and earnest, and that his motives were pure and unselfish, when he promised to be a better man, time has fully vindicated; but that Allen deserves the same commendation is, to say the least of it, very questionable, as is shown by the inconsistencies of his brief probationary career. To speak plainly, it is no more a matter of doubt that the religious community has been grossly imposed upon, with reference to the Water street 'revival,' as will be seen by glancing at a few stubborn facts that cannot be reconciled to a more favorable theory. Upon whose shoulders the guilt of this deception rests, may not have been discovered, but, most assuredly, the righteous indignation of the public will fall, unsparingly, upon whoever may deserve its infliction.

The facts, negatively stated, are briefly and plainly these: There is not a religious revival in progress among the wretched dwellers in Water street dance-halls, and sailors' boarding-houses, nor has there been of late, as represented to the public. Neither Allen, Tommy Hadden, Slocum, nor 'Kit' Burns are 'converted' or reformed men, all accounts to the contrary notwithstanding. The whole movement originated several months ago, in the efforts of the colporteurs of a certain mission, to ameliorate the condition of sailors and fallen women of the Fourth Ward. House-to-house visits were made by the missionaries for a considerable length of time, but without accomplishing all that was desired. At length it was decided that an unusual and sensational method should be taken to arouse Water street, and Water street was accordingly aroused. Allen was selected as the victim against whom the shafts of religion should be specially levelled, and they were, therefore, directed toward him. Two articles appeared in a certain magazine, calling attention to Allen as the 'wickedest man in New York' and in a short time he was the most notorious character in the country. The aim of the article in question was evidently to shame John Allen into a change of life, and thus to obtain a foothold among his vile neighbors and companions in sin. The stroke was a bold one, but it utterly failed in its purpose to soften John's heart. The result, however, was that thousands of religious persons - clergymen and others - thronged his house daily, either from a motive of curiosity, or of inducing John to abandon his wicked life and become a religious man. This he sternly refused to do, threatening to throw any preaching or praying people, who might come there, out of doors. The rush of visitors of the better classes to his house entirely destroyed his business, and for weeks he did not make a dollar of profit in his usual way. Finding that Allen could not be coerced into a reformation, and fearing that the game would be lost, his religious shepherds made a proposition to him to hire his house for one month, to October 1, for daily prayer meetings, and such arrangement was, after some discussion, perfected. For the use of the rooms it is known that a check for three hundred and fifty dollars was passed to Allen, last week, by a party controlling the movement, and the house is now in legal possession of the drawer of the check. Allen's prayers, songs, and exhortations, with which he interested the praying dupes who gathered to his house, were assuredly bogus, and, after being continued for two or three days, they were abandoned, and thereafter, in drunken obliviousness or cunning reticence, the 'wickedest man' passed his time, avoiding visitors, and talking only when compelled to do so. What he purposes to do hereafter will be learned in the course of this article. So much for Alien's falsely reputed conversion!

As for the other men's reformation, that is as absolutely a piece of humbuggery as Allen's. Tommy Hadden is playing the pious with the hope of being secured from trial before the Court of General Sessions for having recently 'shanghaed' a Brooklynite, and also in consideration of a handsome moneyed arrangement with his employers - similar to that with Allen. 'Kit' Burn's rat-pit will also be opened for religious services on Monday next; but the public need not be deceived in the matter of his reformation. His motive, like that of the others, is to make money, and, be it known, that he is to receive at the rate of one hundred and fifty dollars per month, for the use of his pit an hour every day. Slocum desired prayers at the Howard Mission, on Sunday last, but it is understood that he is not to be lionized, because the missionaries are not willing to pay him a high enough rental for his hall. As for the general movement carried on in Water street, under the false pretence that these men have voluntarily, and from purely religious motives, offered their saloons for public worship, and have, themselves, determined to reform, very little more need be said. The daily prayer-meetings are nothing more than assemblages of religious people from among the higher grades of society, in what were once low dance-halls. There is an unusual amount of interest displayed at these meetings, and much good has, doubtless, been accomplished thereby, but it is also a fact, that there are but a few, and sometimes none, of the wretched women, or ruffianly, vicious men, of that neighborhood, present. Those classes are not reached at all, and it is false to say that a revival is going on among them. The character of the audiences and the exercises are similar to that of the noon meeting at the Fulton street Church.

With a view of sounding Allen on various points of public interest, connected with this exciting affair, the writer, on Thursday, paid a visit to the devildom of which Allen is monarch, and there saw and heard some things that are worth the reader's attention. The house, 304 Water street, was easily found. Opening the door that leads from the Street into the apartment that once served as a bar-room, he (the writer) asked if Mr. Allen was at home, and he was informed by a lad to whom the inquiry was addressed, that he was not - he was across the street talking to Slocum, (the proprietor of a neighboring dance-hall,) and if the business upon which the visitor had called was important he would be summoned. Allen was accordingly sent for, and with evident reluctance he accompanied the lad to the room of which we have spoken.

The moment he entered, it was easily seen that he was grossly intoxicated. His step was steady, but the wandering expression of his bloodshot eyes, the silly grin that played about his lips, and the unmistakable rum-odor of his breath, as he approached, made it certain that he was a drunken man. He did not wait for the formalities of an introduction, but at once opened with: 'Well, who are you? What's your name? Where do you live? What's your business - salvation, sinners, eh?' - all at a single breath, and with a rapidity that would defy the pencil of the most skilful stenographer. There was an air of imperiousness, too, in his tone of voice, that seemed to say, 'Come, talk quickly now, and then go about your business; I have no time to waste.' The inquiries, in the main, having been answered, Allen closed the door of the saloon, dragged a small table and two chairs into the middle of the floor, and, having done this, and dismissed the boy and a hideous-looking girl, who was preparing to scrub the apartment, he bade us be seated, and then resumed the conversation, which was carried on in something like the following manner:

'Well, Mr. Allen, what do you desire to say to the public about this reform work?'

'Don't know what to say about it - it's all right, I guess. You can tell 'em that those prayin' "fellers" have broken all my cane chairs, and I've had to get wooden ones - guess they can't break them. Broke my glass there, too, smashed it in, and they smash everything they touch. Somebody stole my coat, too - I'd like to catch him. I don't much like them prayin' folks, anyhow,' he said.

'Why?' was the rejoinder, in evident surprise, 'the public has been led to believe that you were "converted," John, and that you loved Christian people - there will be great surprise when it is made known that such is not the case.'

'Oh!' he returned, interrupting the visitor, 'I'm reformed, and I've made up my mind to serve my great Redeemer as long as he lets me live. I'll never go back on Him, true as you live. I'm just a goin' to let the world know that I'm a second Apostle Paul - there ain't a goin' to be anybody beat me in this line of business, sure's my name is John Allen.'

'What do you mean by "a second Apostle Paul?"' we ventured to ask.

'What do I mean?' was the reply. 'Why, I mean just what I say; I'm goin' to study for a preacher, and I'm goin' to sweep everything in this street. If one church won't have me, another will; and I'll tell these wicked sinners in the world that they'd better look out for themselves, or they'll wake up some fine morning in hell fire.'

'You say that you are going to preach, John. Do you suppose that people will hear you from the pulpit, unless you stop drinking rum?'

'Who told you I drank rum?' he asked, fiercely - and without waiting for a reply, continued: 'I never was drunk in my life. I take a glass now and again, when I feel the need of it; and lately I've been tapering off. I am going to stop it, by-and-by, when I get ready.'

                     THE LAST OF THE WICKEDEST MAN.

The last appearance of the "wickedest man" in public, was a short while ago, when he and his wife, and several of his girls, were arraigned before Justice Dowling, at the Tombs Police Court, on the charge of robbing a sailor of fifteen dollars. The trial, as reported in the daily journals, was a severe commentary upon the revivals, and those who had been conducting them. The following is the account of it:

John Allen and wife, and several girls, who have made that saintly personage's house their home, were before Justice Dowling yesterday morning, to answer a number of damaging charges - among them, keeping a resort for thieves, gamblers, and prostitutes, and robbing Benjamin Swan, a seaman. The story may be best told by the victim, who was examined by Justice Dowling, as follows.

Justice. - 'Tell me, Swan, how this robbery occurred.'

Swan. - 'Well, your Honor, I was going along Water street, on Friday night, and was picked up by the girl, and taken to a private room in the house of Allen. I gave Mrs. Allen five dollars, to pay for drinks, etc.; and during the night, my bedfellow, Margaret Ware, took from my pantaloons pocket fifteen dollars, which she said she gave to Mrs. Allen to keep. When I asked it back, they would not give it to me. I am sure it was John Allen's house.'

The testimony of this witness having been taken, Captain Thorne made a formal complaint against John Allen for keeping a disorderly house.

Justice. - 'How do you know that he keeps a disorderly house, captain?'

Captain. - 'I take it on the testimony of this man, who has been robbed there.'

Justice. - 'Yes, but you must have stronger testimony than that. The law says that it requires more than one act to constitute a disorderly place.'

Captain. - 'I have policemen here to prove that it is disorderly.'

Justice. - 'Allen, what do you say to this charge?'

Allen. - 'Your Honor, during the past six weeks I have done no business. My house has been used all the time for prayer-meetings.'

Justice. - -'What about the robbery of this man?'

Allen. - 'I have nothing to say about it, for I was not at home last night. I know very well that the captain does not want to have me locked up. We have always been good friends, haven't we, captain?'

Captain. - 'I have nothing to say about it.'

Allen. - 'If no charge is made, I promise to have nothing to do with politics.'

Justice. - 'Do you mean to say that politics had any thing to do with your arrest?'

Allen. - 'I don't say anything at all about it, your Honor.'

Justice. - 'Then why do you hint at it?'

Allen. - 'I will promise not to interfere one way or the other, if I am allowed to go.'

The court loungers, who know something of the peculiar politics of the Fourth Ward, here laughed immoderately.

Justice. - 'You go to the captain, and tell him all about it.'

Allen. - 'I won't vote at all if I am let go. I always keep in with the police.' (Laughter.)

Justice. - 'That's right.'

Allen. - 'Only for the kindness of the police, I never could have kept my place so many years. They have always been my friends.' (Laughter.)

Justice. - 'How long is it since you have had any prayer meetings in your house?'

Allen. - 'About eight days.'

Justice. - 'You have got through with them, then, have you?'

Allen. - 'Well, yes, they are not held in my house any more, but they do be held at Jim Miller's, next door, all the same.'

Justice. - 'I believe those praying fellows are the most disorderly persons in Water street. Captain, if you would arrest them, some time, and charge them with disorderly conduct, I think you would be doing good service to the community, for their religious gatherings have been a farce.'

Margaret Ware was committed for trial, and John Allen was held on three hundred dollars bail to answer at the Special Sessions. Daniel Creedon, lodging-house keeper, who represents ten thousand dollars in real estate, became John Allen's bondsman. John says that Oliver Dyer caused his arrest and that the whole thing was a 'put up job.'

                     THE RESULT.

We grant, without hesitation, that those who originated and carried on the Water street revivals, were influenced by worthy motives; but, having given both sides of the case, we maintain that the whole affair was a grave mistake. There was no genuine conversion of the principal characters, and this fact was soon made evident. The public became disgusted with the sham. The class for whose benefit the movement was designed, has been morally injured by it. Good people are made chary of engaging in schemes for the conversion of bad characters, lest they should be drawn into another "John Allen affair," and the wretches who were to have been saved, having been quick to detect the deceit practiced in the matter, denounce all the efforts and declarations of the actors in this affair as hypocrisy and cant, and will for a long time hold aloof from them. On the whole, therefore, we can but regard the cause of religion as more injured than benefited by the mistaken zeal of those who conducted the Water street revivals. The men themselves are above reproach. Their motives, no candid person will impugn, but their wisdom and good sense are open to the gravest criticism.