bright sky athwart which they must have passed. Goodman Brown
alternately crouched and stood on tiptoe, pulling aside the
branches and thrusting forth his head as far as he durst without
discerning so much as a shadow. It vexed him the more, because he
could have sworn, were such a thing possible, that he recognized
the voices of the minister and Deacon Gookin, jogging along
quietly, as they were wont to do, when bound to some ordination
or ecclesiastical council. While yet within hearing, one of the
riders stopped to pluck a switch.

"Of the two, reverend sir," said the voice like the deacon's, "I
had rather miss an ordination dinner than to-night's meeting.
They tell me that some of our community are to be here from
Falmouth and beyond, and others from Connecticut and Rhode
Island, besides several of the Indian powwows, who, after their
fashion, know almost as much deviltry as the best of us.
Moreover, there is a goodly young woman to be taken into
communion."

"Mighty well, Deacon Gookin!" replied the solemn old tones of the
minister. "Spur up, or we shall be late. Nothing can be done, you
know, until I get on the ground."

The hoofs clattered again; and the voices, talking so strangely
in the empty air, passed on through the forest, where no church
had ever been gathered or solitary Christian prayed. Whither,
then, could these holy men be journeying so deep into the heathen
wilderness? Young Goodman Brown caught hold of a tree for
support, being ready to sink down on the ground, faint and
overburdened with the heavy sickness of his heart. He looked up