the threshold of his home, doubtful whether he should pursue or abandon
the purpose which was then uppermost in his mind. On his choice between
the two alternatives of going on, or going back--which the closing of a
door would decide--depended the future of his life, and of other lives
that were mingled with it.

He waited a minute undecided, for the warning Voices within him were
stronger than his own will: he waited, looking up thoughtfully at the
starry loveliness of the winter's night--then closed the door behind him
as softly as usual--hesitated again at the last step that led on to the
pavement--and then fairly set forth from home, walking at a rapid pace
through the streets.

He was not in his usual good spirits. He felt no inclination to sing
as was his wont, while passing through the fresh, frosty air: and he
wondered why it was so.

The Voices were still speaking faintly and more faintly within him.
But we must die before we can become immortal as they are; and their
language to us in this life is often as an unknown tongue.

BOOK II. THE SEEKING.

CHAPTER I. THE MAN WITH THE BLACK SKULL-CAP.

The Roman poet who, writing of vice, ascribed its influence entirely to
the allurement of the fair disguises that it wore, and asserted that
it only needed to be seen with the mask off to excite the hatred of all
mankind, uttered a very plausible moral sentiment, which wants nothing
to recommend it to the admiration of posterity but a seasoning of
practical truth. Even in the most luxurious days of old Rome, it may
safely be questioned whether vice could ever afford to disguise itself
to win recruits, except from the wealthier classes of the population.
But in these modern times it may be decidedly asserted as a fact, that
vice, in accomplishing the vast majority of its seductions, uses no
disguise at all; appears impudently in its naked deformity; and, instead
of horrifying all beholders, in accordance with the prediction of
the classical satirist, absolutely attracts a much more numerous
congregation of worshippers than has ever yet been brought together
by the divinest beauties that virtue can display for the allurement of
mankind.

That famous place of public amusement known, a few years since, to the
late-roaming youth of London by the name of the Snuggery, affords, among
hosts of other instances which might be cited, a notable example to
refute the assertion of the ancient poet. The place was pri