prodigious rate, anxious, perhaps, to get rid of the unpleasant
reminiscences connected with the spot where he had so
disastrously encountered Christian. Consulting Mr. Bunyan's
road-book, I perceived that we must now be within a few miles of
the Valley of the Shadow of Death, into which doleful region, at
our present speed, we should plunge much sooner than seemed at
all desirable. In truth, I expected nothing better than to find
myself in the ditch on one side or the Quag on the other; but on
communicating my apprehensions to Mr. Smooth-it-away, he assured
me that the difficulties of this passage, even in its worst
condition, had been vastly exaggerated, and that, in its present
state of improvement, I might consider myself as safe as on any
railroad in Christendom.

Even while we were speaking the train shot into the entrance of
this dreaded Valley. Though I plead guilty to some foolish
palpitations of the heart during our headlong rush over the
causeway here constructed, yet it were unjust to withhold the
highest encomiums on the boldness of its original conception and
the ingenuity of those who executed it. It was gratifying,
likewise, to observe how much care had been taken to dispel the
everlasting gloom and supply the defect of cheerful sunshine, not
a ray of which has ever penetrated among these awful shadows. For
this purpose, the inflammable gas which exudes plentifully from
the soil is collected by means of pipes, and thence communicated
to a quadruple row of lamps along the whole extent of the
passage. Thus a radiance has been created even out of the fiery
and sulphurous curse that rests forever upon the valley--a
radiance hurtful, however, to the eyes, and somewhat bewildering,
as I discovered by the changes which it wrought in the visages of