So the boy began to circle about in the outer edge of the whirlpool that sucks in its victims so relentlessly and remorselessly, always, in the city.

I wish I did not have to tell the tale of still another descent into Avernus, of this boy of the checkered career.  But I have started out to paint the picture exactly as it is, and I dip my brush in black again with a sigh.  You have to do the same thing in telling, even to yourself, the story of yourself, don’t you, my reader whose blood has iron in it, and whose pulses beat fast?  I am not writing of a sluggish-veined person, nor for people of that complexion, good people though they are.

“Dodd” had never been to the theatre.  He was curious to go, and now that he came within reach of this class of amusements he was all anxiety to gratify his desire in this direction.  He said nothing to his father or his mother about this, however.  Indeed, it would have availed little if he had; that is, as these amusements were always looked upon by the parson and his good wife.  They would have contented themselves by anathematizing the play-house and forbidding “Dodd” attendance at such places; probably ending up their dissertation by declaring to the boy that it was his “natural heart, which is enmity against God,” that led him to desire such sinful diversions.

So, one night “Dodd” went alone to the theatre.

Truth to tell, and to his credit be it said, he chose a reputable place for his maiden visit.  The play was “London Assurance.”  It was well done, and the boy, who really possessed much innate dramatic genius, enjoyed the performance greatly.  He felt ill at ease, however, while in the place, and went very quietly to bed when he reached home.  Indeed, as he lay awake for an hour or two after retiring, unable to sleep because of the vivid visions of the play that his highly wrought imagination and memory represented to his mental eyes, he resolved that he would never again go to see a play, but would stop with a single taste of the pleasure.  Having made this resolve, be went to sleep content.  How easy it is to make good resolutions, and to be content and satisfied in them when out of the reach of temptation.

But the next day, as he went about the city, he saw “Othello” billed for that evening.  He was restless in an instant.  He talked the matter over with himself something as follows, considering whether or not he should go and see the “Moor of Venice:” 

“‘Dodd,’ you are a fellow who cannot rest contented until you have seen what there is to see in the line of plays upon the stage.  There are two kinds of dramas—­tragedy and comedy.  You saw comedy last night.  Go and see tragedy tonight and that will cover the whole field.  You will then have seen it all and will be satisfied.”

So that night, Tuesday evening, he went to see the tragedy.  Don’t ask about his resolve of the night before; just ask how you yourself have done scores of times, under similar circumstances, when you have sworn off, but when the trial came, have concluded not to count that time!