I suppose I had had it in me all along—the “black drop,” as the Irish peasants call it, of evil; and, that shame had hitherto prevented me from plunging into the whirlpool of sinful indulgence that now drew me, a willing victim, down into its yawning gulf of ruin and degradation. That bar removed, however, I made rapid progress towards the beckoning devil, who was waiting to receive me with open arms. I hastened along that path, “where,”—as Byron has described from his own painful experience—
”—In a moment, we may plunge our years
In fatal penitence, and in the blight
Of our own soul, turn all our blood to tears,
And colour things to come with hues of night!”
I declare to you, that when I look back on this period of my life—life! death, rather I should say, for it was a moral death—I am quite unable to comprehend the motives that led me to take such a course. My eyes were not blinded. I must have seen that each stride placed me further and further away from my darling, erecting a fresh obstacle between us; still, some irresistible impulse appeared to hurry me on—although, I could not but have known how vain it would be for me to recover my lost footsteps: how hard a matter to change my direction, and look upwards to light and happiness once more! Glancing back at this period—as I do now with horror—I cannot understand myself, I say.
I went from bad to worse, plunging deeper and deeper into every wickedness that Satan could suggest, or flesh hanker after—until I seemed to lose all sense of shame and self-reproach.
My connection with officialdom was soon terminated.
I got later and later in my attendance; so that, old Smudge’s prediction was shortly fulfilled, for, I became no better than the rest, in respect of early hours.
One day the chief spoke to me on the subject, and I answered him unguardedly.
I was not thinking of him at the time, to tell the truth; and when he said, “Mr Lorton, late again, late again! This won’t do, you know, won’t do!” I quite forgot myself; and, in speaking to him, called him by the nickname under which he was known to us, instead of by his proper appellation.
“Very sorry, Smudge,” said I, “very sorry; won’t be so again, I promise you, sir!”
He nearly got a fit, I assure you; while, all the other fellows were splitting with laughter at my slip!