（
都市超级兵王）（
独宠旧爱陆少的秘密恋人）（
斗破苍穹之穿越轮回）（
黑龙江文学）（
鬼医宠妃）（
巅峰极品公子）young goodman brown
by nathaniell hawthorn
young goodman brown came forthsunset into the streetsalem village; but put his head back, after crossing the threshold,exchangarting kiss with his youn faith,the wife was aptly named, thrust her own pretty head into the street, letting the wind play with the pink ribbonsher cap while she calledgoodman brown.
“dearest heart,” whispered she, softly and rather sadly, when her lips were closehis ear, “prithee put off your journey until sunrise and sleepyour ownwomantroubled with such dreams and such thoughts that she’s afeardhersel tarry withthis night, dear husband,all nightsthe year.”
“my love andfaith,” replied young goodman brown, “of all nightsthe year, this one night musarry away fro journey,thou callest it, forth and back again, must needsdone ’twixt now an,sweet, pretty wife, dost thou doubtalready, andbut three months married?”
“then god bless you!” said faith, with the pink ribbons; “and may you find all well when you e back.”“amen!” cried goodman brown.“say thy prayers, dear faith, andto beddusk, andharm will ethee.”so they parted; and the young man pursued his way until, being aboutturn the cornerthe meeting-house,looked back and saw the headfaith still peeping after him witelancholy air,spiteher pink ribbons.
“poor little faith!” thought he, for his heart smote him.“wharetchileave hersucherrand!she talksdreams, too.methoughtshe spoke there was troubleher face,iream had warned her what worktodon no, no;would kill herthink it.well, she’lessed angelearth; and after this one night i’ll clingher skirts and follow herheaven.”
with this excellent resolve for the future, goodman brown felt himself justifiedmaking more hastehis present evi had takereary road, darkenedall the gloomiest treesthe forest, which barely stood asidelet the narrow path creep through, and closed immediately behind.
itwas alllonelycould be; and therethis peculiaritysucolitude, that the traveller knows not who mayconcealedthe innumerable trunks and the thick boughs overhead;that with lonely footstepsmay yetpassing throughunseen multitude.“there maya devilish indian behind every tree,” said goodman brownhimself; andglanced fearfully behind himhe added, “whatthe devil himself shouldatvery elbow!”
his head being turned back,passerookthe road, and, looking forward again, beheld the figurea man,grave and decent attire, seatedthe footanarosegoodman brown’s approach and walked onward sideside with him.“you are late, goodman brown,” said he.“the clockthe old south was strikingi came through boston, and thatfull fifteen minutes agone.”“faith keptbachile,” replied the young man, witremorhis voice, causedthe sudden appearancehis panion, though not wholly unexpected.
it was now deep duskthe forest, and deepestthat partit where these two wer nearlycoulddiscerned, the second traveller was about fifty years old, apparentlythe same ranklifegoodman brown, and bearinonsiderable resemblancehim, though perhaps moreexpression tha they might have been taken for father and son.
and yet, though the elder person wassimply cladthe younger, andsimplemanner too,hadindescribable airone who knew the world, and who would not have felt abashedthe governor’s dinner tablein king william’s court, werepossible that his affairs should call him thither.
but the only thing about him that couldfixed uponremarkable was his staff, which bore the likenessa great black snake,curiously wrought thatmight almostseentwist and wriggle itself likiving serpent.
this,course, must have beenocular deception, assistedthe uncertain light.
“e, goodman brown,” cried his fellow traveller, “thisa dull pace for the beginningstaff,you aresoon weary.”“friend,” said the other, exchanging his slow pace foull stop, “having kept covenantmeeting thee here,ispurpose nowreturn whencame.
ihave scruples touching the matter thou wot’st of.”“sayest thou so?” repliedof the serpent, smiling apart.“letwalk on, nevertheless, reasoningwe go; andi convince thee not thou shalt tur are buittle waythe forest yet.”“too far! too far!” exclaimed the goodman, unconsciously resuming his walk.“my father never went into the woodssucherrand, nor his father before him.
we have beeacehonest men and good christians since the daysthe martyrs; and shall ithe firstthe namebrown that ever took this path and kept ”“such pany, thou wouldst say,” observed the elder person, interpreting his pause.“well said, goodman brown!
i have beenwell acquainted with your familywith evene among the puritans; and that’striflour grandfather, the constable, whenlashed the quaker womansmartly through the streetssalem; andwahat brought your fatheitch-pine knot, kindledmy own hearth,set firean indian village,king philip’s war.
they weregood friends, both; and manleasant walk havehad along this path, and returned merrily afte fainfriends with you for their sake.”“ifbethou sayest,” replied goodman brown,marvel they never spokethese matters; or, verily, i marvel not, seeing that the least rumorthe sort would have driven them fromareopleprayer, and good worksboot, and abidesuch wickedness.”
“wickednessnot,” said the traveller with the twisted staff,havery general acquaintance herene deaconsmanhurch have drunk the munion wine with me; the selectmendivers towns maketheir chairman; anajoritythe great and general court are firm supportersm governor and i, too but these are state secrets.”
“can thisso?” cried goodman brown, wittareamazementhis undisturbed panion.“howbeit, i have nothingdo with the governor and council; they have their own ways, and arerule foimple husbandman like me.but, were igowith thee, how shouleet the eyethat good old man, our minister,salem village?oh, his voice would maketremble both sabbath day and lecture day.”
thus far the elder traveller had listened with due gravity; but now burst intitirrepressible mirth, shaking himselfviolently that his snake like staff actually seemedwrigglesympathy.“ha! ha! ha!” shoutedagain and again; then posing himself, “well,on, goodman brown,on; but, prithee, don’t killwith laughing.”“well, then,end the matteronce,” said goodman brown, considerably tled, “theremy wife, would break her dear little heart; and i’d rather breakown.”
“nay,thatthe case,” answered the other, “e’enthy ways, goodma not for twenty old women like the one hobbling beforethat faith should eany harm.”asspokepointed his staffa female figurethe path,whom goodman brown recognizeery pious and exemplary dame, who had taught him his catechismyouth, and was still his moral and spiritual adviser, jointly with the minister and deacon gookin.
“amarvel, truly, that goody cloyse shouldso farthe wildernessnightfall,” said he.“but with your leave, friend, i shall takut through the woods untilhave left this christian womtrangeryou, she might ask whoas consorting with and whitheas going.”“beso,” said his fellow traveller.“betake youthe woods, and letkeep the path.”
accordingly the young man turned aside, but took carewatch his panion, who advanced softly along the road untilhad e withitaff’s lengththe ol, meanwhile, was making the besther way, with singular speed forageoman, and mumbling some indistinct wordrayer, doubtlesssh traveller put forth his staff and touched her withered neck with what seemed the serpent’s tail.
“the devil!” screamed the pious old lady.“then goody cloyse knows her old friend?” observed the traveller, confronting her and leaninghis writhing stick.“ah, forsooth, andit your worship indeed?” cried the good dame.“yea, trulyit, andthe very imagemy old gossip, goodman brown, the grandfatherthe silly fellow that now is.
but would your worship believe it?broomstick hath strangely disappeared, stolen,i suspect,that unhanged witch, goody cory, and that, too, wheas all anointed with the juicesmallage, and cinquefoil, and wolf’s bane.”“mingled with fine wheat and the fata new born babe.” said the shapeold goodman brown.“ah, your worship knows the recipe,” cried the old lady, cackling aloud.
“so,i was saying, being all ready for the meeting, andhorseride on, i mademy mindfoot it; for they telltherea nice young manbe taken into munioow your good worship will lendyour arm, andshalltherea twinkling.”“that can hardly be,” answered her friend.“i may not spare youarm, goody cloyse; but heremy staff,you will.”
sosaying,threwdownher feet, where, perhaps,assumed life, being onethe rods which its owner had formerly lentthe egyptia this fact, however, goodman brown could not tak had casthis eyesastonishment, and, looking down again, beheld neither goody cloyse nor the serpentine staff, but his fellow traveller alone, who waited for himcalmlyif nothing had happened.
“that old woman taughtmy catechism,” said the young man; and there waorldmeaningthis simpl continuedwalk onward, while the elder traveller exhorted his panionmake good speed and perseverethe path, discoursingaptly that his arguments seemed ratherspringin the bosomhis auditor thanbe suggestedhimself.
as they went,pluckeranchmapleserve foalking stick, and beganstripof the twigs and little boughs, which were wet with evenin moment his fingers touched them they became strangely withered and driedas witeek’ the pair proceeded,a good free pace, until suddenly,a gloomy hollowthe road, goodman brown sat himself downthe stumpa tree and refusedgo any farther.
“friend,” said he, stubbornly, “my mindmade up.not another step wiludgethia wretched old womanchoosegothe devil whehought she was goingheaven:is that any reason whhould quitdear faith andafter her?”“you will think betterthisand by,” said his acquaintance, posedly.“sit here and rest yourselhile; and when you feel like moving again, theremy staffhelp you along.”
without more words,threw his panion the maple stick, and wasspeedily outsightifhad vanished into the deepenin young man saew momentsthe roadside, applauding himself greatly, and thinking with how cleaonscienceshould meet the ministerhis morning walk, nor shrink from the eyegood old deacon gookin.
andwhat calm sleep wouldhis that very night, which washave been spentwickedly, butpurely and sweetly now,the armsfaith!amidst these pleasant and praiseworthy meditations, goodman brown heard the tramphorses along the road, and deemedadvisableconceal himself within the vergethe forest, consciousthe guilty purpose that had brought him thither, though nowhappily turned from it.
oncame the hoof tramps and the voicesthe riders, two grave old voices, conversing soberlythey dre mingled sounds appearedpass along the road, withiew yardsthe young man’s hiding place; but, owing doubtlessthe depththe gloomthat particular spot, neither the travellers nor their steeds were visible.
though their figures brushed the small boughsthe wayside,could notseen that they intercepted, even fooment, the faint gleam from the stripbright sky athwart which they must hav brown alternately crouched and stoodtiptoe, pulling aside the branches and thrusting forth his headfarhe durst without discerningmucha shadow.
it vexed him the more, becausecould have sworn, were suching possible, thatrecognized the voicesthe minister and deacon gookin, jogging along quietly,they were wontdo, when boundsome ordinationecclesiastica yet within hearing, onethe riders stoppedplucwitch.
“of the two, reverend sir,” said the voice like the deacon’s,had rather missordination dinner thannight’ tellthat someour munity arebe here from falmouth and beyond, and others from connecticut and rhode island, besides severalthe indian powwows, who, after their fashion, know almostmuch deviltrythe , therea goodly young womanbe taken into munion.”
“mighty well, deacon gookin!” replied the solemn old tonesthe minister.“spur up,we shalandone, you know, untietthe ground.”the hoofs clattered again; and the voices, talkingstrangelythe empty air, passedthrough the forest, wherechurch had ever been gatheredsolitary christian prayed.
whither, then, could these holy menjourneyingdeep into the heathen wilderness?young goodman brown caught holda tree for support, being readysink downthe ground, faint and overburdened with the heavy sicknesshi lookedto the sky, doubting whether there really waeaven abov there was the blue arch, and the stars brighteningit.
“with heaven above and faith below, i will yet stand firm against the devil!” cried goodmastill gazed upward into the deep archthe firmament and had lifted his handspray, a cloud, thoughwind was stirring, hurried across the zenith and hid the brightenin blue sky was still visible, except directly overhead, where this black masscloud was sweeping swiftly northward.
aloftthe air,if from the depthsthe cloud, camonfused and doubtful sounhe listener fancied thatcould distinguish the accentstowns peoplehis own, men and women, both pious and ungodly, manywhomhad metthe munion table, and had seen others riotingthe tavern.
the next moment,indistinct were the sounds,doubted whetherhad heard aught but the murmurthe old forest, whispering without camtronger swellthose familiar tones, heard dailythe sunshinesalem village, but never until now froloudnight there was one voicea young woman, uttering lamentations, yet withuncertain sorrow, and entreating for some favor, which, perhaps,would grieve herobtain; and all the unseen multitude, both saints and sinners, seemedencourage her onward.
“faith!” shouted goodman brown,a voiceagony and desperation; and the echoesthe forest mocked him, crying, “faith! faith!”if bewildered wretches were seeking her all throughcrygrief, rage, and terror was yet piercing the night, when the unhappy husband held his breath foesponse.
there wacream, drowned immediatelya louder murmurvoices, fading into far off laughter,the dark cloud swept away, leaving the clear and silent sky above goodma something fluttered lightly down through the air and caughtthe branch young man seized it, and behelink ribbon.
“my faithgone!” cried he, after one stupefied moment.“thereno goodearth; and sinbut , devil; fortheethis world given.”and, maddened with despair,thatlaughed loud and long, did goodman brown grasp his staff and set forth again,sucate thatseemedfly along the forest path rather thanwalkrun.
the road grew wilder and drearier and more faintly traced, and vanishedlength, leaving himthe heartthe dark wilderness, still rushing onward with the instinct that guides mortal mahole forest was peopled with frightful sounds the creakingthe trees, the howlingwild beasts, and the yellindians; while sometimes the wind tolled likistant church bell, and sometimes gavroad roar around the traveller,if all nature were laughing him twas himself the chief horrorthe scene, and shrank not from its other horrors.
“ha! ha! ha!” roared goodman brown when the wind laughedhim.“lethear which will laug notfrightenwith you witch, e wizard, e indian powwow, e devil himself, and heregoodma maywell fear himhe fear you.”
intruth, all through the haunted forest there couldnothing more frightful than the figuregoodmaflew among the black pines, brandishing his staff with frenzied gestures, now giving ventan inspirationhorrid blasphemy, and now shouting forth such laughterset all the echoesthe forest laughing like demons aroun fiendhis own shapeless hideous than whenragesthe breastman.
thus sped the demoniachis course, until, quivering among the trees,saed light before him,when the felled trunks and branchesa clearing have been setfire, and throwtheir lurid blaze against the sky,the houaused,a lullthe tempest that had driven him onward, and heard the swellwhat seemeymn, rolling solemnly froistance with the weightmany voices.
he knew the tune;waamiliar onethe choirthe village meetin verse died heavily away, and was lengtheneda chorus, nothuman voices, butall the soundsthe benighted wilderness pealingawful harmon brown cried out, and his cry was losthis own earits unison with the crythe desert.
inthe intervalsilencestole forward until the light glared full uponone extremityan open space, hemmedby the dark wallthe forest, arosock, bearing some rude, natural resemblance eitheran altara pulpit, and surroundedfour blazing pines, their tops aflame, their stems untouched, like candlesan evenin massfoliage that had overgrown the summitthe rock was allfire, blazing high into the night and fitfully illuminating the whole field.
each pendent twig and leafy festoon was the red light arose and fell, a numerous congregation alternately shone forth, then disappearedshadow, and again grew,it were, outthe darkness, peopling the heartthe solitary woodsonce.“a grave and dark-clad pany,” quoth goodman brown.
intruth they wer them, quiveringand fro between gloom and splendor, appeared faces that wouldseen next daythe council boardthe province, and others which, sabbath after sabbath, looked devoutly heavenward, and benignantly over the crowded pews, from the holiest pulpitsth affirm that the ladythe governorleast there were high dames well knownher, and wiveshonored husbands, and widows, a great multitude, and ancient maidens, allexcellent repute, and fair young girls, who trembled lest their mothers should espy them.
either the sudden gleamslight flashing over the obscure field bedazzled goodman brown,he recognizecorethe church memberssalem village famous for their especia old deacon gookin had arrived, and waitedthe skirtsthat venerable saint, his revered pastor.
but, irreverently consorting with these grave, reputable, and pious people, these eldersthe church, these chaste dames and dewy virgins, there were mendissolute lives and womenspotted fame, wretches given overall mean and filthy vice, and suspected evenhorri was strangesee that the good shrank not from the wicked, nor were the sinners abashedth also among their pale-faced enemies were the indian priests,powwows, who had often scared their native forest with more hideous incantations than any knownenglish witchcraft.
“but wherefaith?” thought goodman brown; and,hope came into his heart, h versethe hymn arose, a slow and mournful strain, suchthe pious love, but joinedwords which expressed all that our nature can conceivesin, and darkly hintedfamere mortalsthe lorefiends.
verse after verse was sung; and still the chorusthe desert swelled between like the deepest tonea mighty an; and with the final pealthat dreadful anthem there camound,if the roaring wind, the rushing streams, the howling beasts, and every other voicethe unconcerted wilderness were mingling and according with the voiceguilty manhomagethe princeall.
the four blazing pines threwa loftier flame, and obscurely discovered shapes and visageshorrorthe smoke wreaths above the impiou the same moment the firethe rock shot redly forth and formelowing arch above its base, where now appeared reverenceit spoken, the figure boreslight similitude, bothgarb and manner,some grave divinethe new england churches.
“bring forth the converts!” crieoice that echoed through the field and rolled intothe word, goodman brown stepped forth from the shadowthe trees and approached the congregation, with whomfeloathful brotherhoodthe sympathyall that was wickedhi could have well nigh sworn that the shapehis own dead father beckoned himadvance, looking downward fromoke wreath, whiloman, with dim featuresdespair, threw out her handwarnit his mother?
buthadpowerretreat one step, norresist, eventhought, when the minister and good old deacon gookin seized his arms and led himthe blazin came also the slender forma veiled female, led between goody cloyse, that pious teacherthe catechism, and martha carrier, who had received the devil’s promisebe queeagthere stood the proselytes beneath the canopyfire.
“wele,children,” said the dark figure, “to the munionyou have found thus young your nature and you children, look behind you!”they turned; and flashing forth,it were,a sheetflame, the fiend worshippers were seen; the smilewele gleamed darklyevery visage.
“there,” resumed the sable form, “are all whomhave reverenced fro deemed them holier than yourselves, and shrank from your own sin, contrastingwith their livesrighteousness and prayerful aspiration here are they allmy worshipping assembly.
this nightshallgranted youknow their secret deeds: how hoary bearded eldersthe church have whispered wanton wordsthe young maidstheir households; how manoman, eager for widows’ weeds, has given her husbanrinkbedtime and let him sleep his last sleepher bosom; how beardless youths have made hasteinherit their fathers’ wealth; and how fair damsels blush not, sweet ones have dug little gravesthe garden, and bidden me, the sole guestan infant’s funeral.
bythe sympathyyour human hearts for sinshall scent out all the places whetherchurch, bedchamber, street, field,forest where crime has been mitted, and shall exultbehold the whole earth one stainguilt, one mighty bloo more tha shallyoursperate,every bosom, the deep mysterysin, the fountainall wicked arts, and which inexhaustibly supplies more evil impulses than human power thanpowerits utmost can make manifesow,children, look upon each other.”
they did so; and,the blazethe hell-kindled torches, the wretched man beheld his faith, and the wife her husband, trembling before that unhallowed altar.“lo, therestand,children,” said the figure,a deep and solemn tone, almost sad with its despairing awfulness,if his once angelic nature could yet mourn for our miserable race.“depending upon one another’s hearts,had still hoped that virtue were not alream.
now are ythe naturustyour onl again,children,the munionyour race.”“wele,” repeated the fiend worshippers,one crydespair and triumph.
and there they stood, the only pair,it seemed, who were yet hesitatingthe vergewickednessthis dar was hollowed, naturally,thcontain water, reddenedthe lurid light?wasblood? or, perchance, a liquid flame?herein did the shapeevil dip his hand and preparelay the markbaptism upon their foreheads, that they mightpartakersthe mysterysin, more consciousthe secret guiltothers, bothdeed and thought, than they could nowof their own.
the husband cast one lookhis pale wife, and faitolluted wretches would the next glance show themeach other, shuddering alikewhat they disclosed and what they saw!“faith! faith!” cried the husband, “lookto heaven, and resist the wicked one.”
whether faith obeyedkne hadspoken whenfound himself amid calm night and solitude, listeninga roarthe wind which died heavily away throughstaggered against the rock, and feltchill and damp; whilanging twig, that had been allfire, besprinkled his cheek with the coldest dew.
the next morning young goodman brown came slowly into the streetsalem village, staring around him likewildere good old minister was takinalk along the graveyardgetappetite for breakfast and meditate his sermon, and bestowelessing,he passed,goodma shrank from the venerable saintifavoidanathema.
old deacon gookin wasdomestic worship, and the holy wordshis prayer were heard through the open window.“what god doth the wizard pray to?” quoth goodma cloyse, that excellent old christian, stoodthe early sunshineher own lattice, catechizinittle girl who had brought heintmorning’s milk.
goodman brown snatched away the childfrom the graspthe fien the cornerthe meeting house,spied the headfaith, with the pink ribbons, gazing anxiously forth, and bursting into such joysighthim that she skipped along the street and almost kissed her husband before the whol goodman brown looked sternly and sadly into her face, and passedwithoureeting.
had goodman brown fallen asleepthe forest and only dreameild dreama witch meeting?besoyou will; but, alas!wareamevil omen for young goodma, a sad, a darkly meditative, a distrustful,noesperate man didbee from the nightthat fearfu the sabbath day, when the congregation were singinoly psalm,could not listen becauseanthemsin rushed loudly upon his ear and drowned all the blessed strain.
when the minister spoke from the pulpit with power and fervid eloquence, and, with his handthe open bible,the sacred truthsour religion, andsaint like lives and triumphant deaths, andfuture blissmisery unutterable, then did goodman brown turn pale, dreading lest the roof should thunder down upon the gray blasphemer and his hearers.
often, waking suddenlymidnight,shrank from the bosomfaith; andmorningeventide, when the family knelt downprayer,scowled and mutteredhimself, and gazed sternlyhis wife, and turne whenhad lived long, and was boro his gravoary corpse, followedfaith,aged woman, and children and grandchildren, a goodly procession, besides neighbors noew, they carvedhopeful verse upon his tombstone, for his dying hour was gloom.
m.pi.co
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