during the periods of their brief intercourse.
Moreover, she was ever hearing some evil thing laid to his charge.
At length their intimate intercourse came to an end, and, with the
termination of this, was removed the last restraint that held the
lad in bounds of external propriety. The cause of this termination
we will relate: As Andrew grew older, he grew more and more
self-willed, and strayed farther and farther from the right way.
Social in his feelings, he sought the companionship of boys of his
own age, and by the time he was seventeen, had formed associations
of a very dangerous character. Though positively forbidden by his
father to be out after night, he disregarded the injunction, and
went from home almost every evening. At home there was nothing to
attract him; nothing to give him pleasure. A shadow was ever on the
brow of his father, and this threw a gloom over the entire
household. But, abroad, among his companions, he found a hundred
things to interest him. All license tends toward further extremes.
It was not long before Andrew found ten o'clock at night too early
for him. The theatre was a place positively interdicted by his
parents; and, restrained by some lingering respect for his mother's
feelings, Andrew had, up to the age of seventeen, resisted the
strong desire he felt to see a play. At last, however, he yielded to
temptation, and went to the theatre. On returning home about eleven
o'clock, he found his father sitting up for him. To the stern
interrogation as to where he had been so late, he replied with
equivocation, and finally with direct falsehood.

"Andrew," said Mr. Howland, at length, speaking with unusual
severity of tone, and with a deliberation and emphasis that
indicated a higher degree of earnestness than usual, "if you are out
again until after ten o'clock, you remain out all night. To this my
mind is fully made up. So act your own good pleasure."

The father and son then separated.

Ten o'clock came on the next night, and Andrew had not returned. For
the half hour preceding the stroke of the clock, Mr. Howland had
walked the floor uneasily, with his ear harkening anxiously for the
sound of the bell that marked his son's return; and, as the time
drew nearer and nearer, he half repented the utterance of a law,
that, if broken, could not, he feared, but result in injury to the
disobedient boy. At last the clock struck ten. He paused and stood
listening for over a minute; then he resu