essor is
hard_."

That night they went to the theatre. Bill had given Rodney a
dirk, which he carried in his bosom. They went up into the third
tier of boxes, which was filled with the most wicked and debased
men and women. While the rest were laughing, and talking, and
cursing, Rodney sat down on the front seat to see the play; but
they made so much confusion behind him that he could not hear,
so he turned round, and said, rather angrily: "I wish you
wouldn't make so much noise."

"Who are you talking to?" shouted a rough, bully-looking man
behind him, with a terrible oath; "I'll pitch you into the pit,
if you open your head again."

He rushed towards him, but, quick as thought, Rodney snatched
the dirk from his breast, drew his arm back over his head, and
told the bully to keep off. The man stopped, and in an instant
the whole theatre was in confusion. The play on the stage
ceased; and there, in full view, leaning over the front of the
box, stood the boy, with the weapon in his hand, gleaming in the
eyes of the whole audience.

Bill Seegor rushed to him, pulled him back toward the lobby, and
took the dagger from his hand. The bully then aimed a tremendous
blow at the boy's face, which fortunately was warded off by one
of the women. Just then a police-officer came up, and, taking
Rodney by the collar, led him down stairs. Half a dozen men, who
were Bill's friends, followed; and when they got into the
street, they dashed against the officer, and broke his hold,
when Bill caught Rodney by the arm and told him to run. They
turned quickly through several streets, and escaped pursuit.

Do you think that Rodney was happy amid such scenes? Ah! no; he
was alarmed at himself. He felt degraded and guilty; he felt
that he was taking sudden and rapid strides in the path of
debasement and vice. He thought of his home and its sweet
influences. He knew how deep would be the grief of those who
loved him, should they hear of his course. His conscience
condemned him, and he thought of what he was becoming with
horror. But he seemed to be drawn on by his wild desires, and
felt scarcely a disposition to escape the meshes of the net that
was winding around him.

The sailors praised him, and patted him on the back; told him
that he was a brave fellow,--that he was beginning right, and
that there was good stuff in him. And Rodney laughed, tickled by
such praises, and drank what they offered, and tried to stifle
his conscience and