Young Goodman Brown and Other Tales by Nathaniel Hawthorne

Author:Nathaniel Hawthorne [Hawthorne, Nathaniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780191605680
Publisher: OUP Oxford
Published: 2020-01-06T00:00:00+00:00

THE CELESTIAL RAILROAD*

NOT a great while ago, passing through the gate of dreams,* I visited that region of the earth in which lies the famous City of Destruction.* It interested me much to learn that by the public spirit of some of the inhabitants a railroad has recently been established between this populous and flourishing town and the Celestial City. Having a little time upon my hands, I resolved to gratify a liberal curiosity* by making a trip thither. Accordingly, one fine morning after paying my bill at the hotel and directing the porter to stow my luggage behind a coach, I took my seat in the vehicle and set out for the station-house. It was my good fortune to enjoy the company of a gentleman—one Mr. Smooth-it-away*—who, though he had never actually visited the Celestial City, yet seemed as well acquainted with its laws, customs, policy, and statistics as with those of the City of Destruction, of which he was a native townsman. Being, moreover, a director of the railroad corporation and one of its largest stockholders, he had it in his power to give me all desirable information respecting that praiseworthy enterprise.*

Our coach rattled out of the city, and at a short distance from its outskirts passed over a bridge of elegant construction, but somewhat too slight, as I imagined, to sustain any considerable weight. On both sides lay an extensive quagmire, which could not have been more disagreeable, either to sight or smell, had all the kennels of the earth emptied their pollution there.

‘This,’ remarked Mr. Smooth-it-away, ‘is the famous Slough of Despond,*—a disgrace to all the neighbourhood; and the greater, that it might so easily be converted into firm ground.’

‘I have understood,’ said I, ‘that efforts have been made for that purpose from time immemorial. Bunyan mentions that above twenty thousand cartloads of wholesome instructions had been thrown in here without effect.’

‘Very probably! And what effect could be anticipated from such unsubstantial stuff?’ cried Mr. Smooth-it-away. ‘You observe this convenient bridge. We obtained a sufficient foundation for it by throwing into the slough some editions of books of morality; volumes of French philosophy and German rationalism; tracks, sermons, and essays of modern clergymen; extracts from Plato, Confucius, and various Hindu sages, together with a few ingenious commentaries upon texts of Scripture,—all of which, by some scientific process, have been converted into a mass like granite. The whole bog might be filled up with similar matter.’

It really seemed to me, however, that the bridge vibrated and heaved up and down in a very formidable manner; and, spite of Mr. Smooth-it-away’s testimony to the solidity of its foundation, I should be loath to cross it in a crowded omnibus, especially if each passenger were encumbered with as heavy luggage as that gentlemen and myself. Nevertheless, we got over without accident, and soon found ourselves at the station-house. This very neat and spacious edifice is erected on the site of the little wicket-gate,* which, formerly, as all old pilgrims

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