THE SNOW-IMAGE

AND

OTHER TWICE-TOLD TALES



THE MAN OF ADAMANT

By

Nathaniel Hawthorne



In the old times of religious gloom and intolerance lived Richard Digby,
the gloomiest and most intolerant of a stern brotherhood. His plan of
salvation was so narrow, that, like a plank in a tempestuous sea, it
could avail no sinner but himself, who bestrode it triumphantly, and
hurled anathemas against the wretches whom he saw struggling with the
billows of eternal death. In his view of the matter, it was a most
abominable crime--as, indeed, it is a great folly--for men to trust to
their own strength, or even to grapple to any other fragment of the
wreck, save this narrow plank, which, moreover, he took special care to
keep out of their reach. In other words, as his creed was like no man's
else, and being well pleased that Providence had intrusted him alone, of
mortals, with the treasure of a true faith, Richard Digby determined to
seclude himself to the sole and constant enjoyment of his happy fortune.