Montresor kills fortunato by __________

2

40 Short Stories A Portable Anthology

3

40 Short Stories A Portable Anthology

Fifth Edition

Edited by BEVERLY LAWN

Adelphi University

4

For Robert Lawn

For Bedford/St. Martin’s Vice President, Editorial, Macmillan Learning Humanities: Edwin Hill Editorial Director, English: Karen S. Henry Executive Editor for Literature: Vivian Garcia Senior Executive Editor: Stephen A. Scipione Production Editor: Pamela Lawson Senior Media Producer: Allison Hart Production Supervisor: Robert Cherry Marketing Manager: Sophia Latorre-Zengierski Project Management: Jouve Permissions Manager: Kalina Ingham Text Permissions Researcher: Arthur Johnson Senior Art Director: Anna Palchik Cover Design: John Callahan Cover Photo: Paul Moore/Arcangel Composition: Jouve Printing and Binding: RR Donnelley and Sons

Copyright © 2017, 2013, 2009, 2004 by Bedford/St. Martin’s.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, except as may be expressly permitted by the applicable copyright statutes or in writing by the Publisher.

Manufactured in the United States of America.

1 0 9 8 7 6 f  e d c b a

For information, write: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 75 Arlington Street, Boston, MA 02116 (617-399-4000)

ISBN 978-1-319-11042-0

5

Acknowledgments

Text acknowledgments and copyrights appear at the back of the book on pages 534–36, which constitute an extension of the copyright page. Art acknowledgments and copyrights appear on the same page as the art selections they cover.

6

Preface for Instructors

The fifth edition of 40 Short Stories: A Portable Anthology, like its predecessors, is a compact collection of highly regarded, very teachable stories by respected authors. Stories of depth, power, and recognized artistry are included in a balance of the traditional and the contemporary. Exciting young writers such as Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Junot Díaz, Jhumpa Lahiri, and Yiyun Li—all born after 1965—join those who forged, and now represent, the classic tradition, among them Anton Chekhov, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Katherine Mansfield, Herman Melville, and Edgar Allan Poe. The fifth edition includes more contemporary stories than did previous editions. Fully a quarter of the selections were published in the past 20 years, within the lifetime of most students likely to be reading this edition in a college course.

As the short story tradition has broadened, the valuable has become more various. While instructors want a strong representation of the classic tradition, they also consistently ask for a collection that offers wide cultural and artistic variety. Accordingly, while most of our authors lived or now live in the United States, more than one-quarter were born or now live in other countries: Antigua, Austria-Hungary, Canada, China, Colombia, the Dominican Republic, England, Ireland, New Zealand, Nigeria, and Russia.

The fifth edition, like the four that preceded it, preserves the editorial features that have always defined 40 Short Stories, and benefits instructors and students by being inexpensive, easy to read, and light to carry. While assembling a vibrant short story collection has always been my paramount purpose, I also seek to help students understand and appreciate, without intrusive critical breaks, writers’ imagination and skill. The format is simple and designed to be useful in a wide variety of teaching situations, from general introduction-to-literature and short fiction courses to creative writing workshops and composition classes. The stories are arranged chronologically by date of the authors’ birth, to suggest the evolution of the short story tradition, with the date of publication appearing at the end

7

of each story to further locate the fiction within historical contexts. Apart from occasional footnotes within the stories, critical assistance is placed at the back of the book, so as not to be obtrusive or immediately influence close reading. This critical apparatus includes biographical notes on the authors in the anthology; a glossary of literary terms; a section on how to read short stories closely; and a section on how to write about short fiction.

NEW TO THE FIFTH EDITION

The publisher conducted a nationwide survey of instructors who had used the fourth edition, and also canvassed a significant number of instructors who taught with other fiction anthologies. The comments and suggestions of all these teachers encouraged me to make the following updates and improvements to the fifth edition:

Thirteen new stories, many of them fresh and recent. While many instructors who used the fourth edition requested that the new edition include fresh, recent selections, they also wished to maintain the anthology’s balance of contemporary and classic fiction that has proven to be appealing to students. With this in mind, I have replaced thirteen of the forty stories. Fourth edition authors T. Coraghessan Boyle, Sandra Cisneros, Junot Díaz, Gabriel García Márquez, Franz Kafka, and Katherine Mansfield remain in the fifth edition, but are represented by different stories. By popular demand, Cisneros’s “The House on Mango Street” and García Márquez’s “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings” are restored from earlier editions, as is Margaret Atwood’s classic metafictional narrative “Happy Endings.” Authors entirely new to 40 Short Stories include celebrated contemporary writers Edith Pearlman, Mark Haddon, Yiyun Li, Joshua Ferris, Lauren Groff, and Karen Russell, all of whose reputations as exemplary writers of fiction have only increased since the fourth edition was published.

An alternative table of contents for increased teaching flexibility. At the front of the book, following the chronological contents, I have added another kind of table of contents, “Other Ways into the Stories: Alternative Contents.” Here the stories are categorized according to particular literary elements and themes that may be useful for planning or organizing a course. The literary elements include plot, character, setting, point of view, style, tone and irony, and symbol and metaphor, with both classic and recent stories included in every category. The thematic categories are wide ranging, with a dozen groupings focusing on broad, familiar areas such as “Families” and “Love and Hate” as well as more specialized topics such as

8

“Cultural Confrontations,” “The Lure of the Forbidden,” and “Myth and Archetype.” These groupings by literary element and theme are not meant to be exhaustive but rather pedagogically suggestive. Certainly, the craft and meaning of stories such as “A Rose for Emily,” “Sonny’s Blues,” and “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?” resist reductive categorization. Certainly, many other thematic considerations are possible. But I hope the options I have provided will be of use, depending on the kind of course you are teaching and the reading and writing goals you have for your students.

Checklists that aid reading and writing about fiction. The fifth edition augments its back-of-the-book assistance with new checklists that walk students through the key steps to close critical reading and writing. The “Reading Short Stories Closely” and “Writing about Short Stories” sections conclude with these summative lists.

The 2010 Nobel Prize–winning Peruvian novelist Mario Vargas Llosa reminds us that fiction has the awesome power to develop and liberate the imagination of the writer and reader. I hope the stories I have chosen and the assistance I have provided help open the imagination of your students to fiction’s power.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am grateful to the instructors who responded so thoughtfully to our queries about their experience with the fourth edition: Alan Ambrisco, University of Akron; Jane Arnold, SUNY Adirondack Community College; George H. Bailey, Wentworth Institute of Technology; Jessica Best, SUNY Adirondack Community College; Abby Coykendall, Eastern Michigan University; Lila Harper, Central Washington University; Michael Herman, Molloy College; Emily Isaacson, Heidelberg University; Bonni Miller, University of Maryland—Eastern Shore; Tim Oldakowski, Slippery Rock University; Thor Polukoshko, Langara College; Alison Powell, Oakland University; Heidi Stoffer, Cleveland State University; Susan Stone, Loras College; Melanie Sumner, Kennesaw State University; Stephen Tuttle, Brigham Young University; and Robert Vettese, Southern Maine Community College.

I also remain thankful to those who reviewed earlier editions of the book, going back to the turn of the millennium: Sonya Alvarado, Eastern Michigan University; Tom Averill, Washburn University; Mark Baker, Langara College; Dianne Bateman, Champlain College, Saint-Lambert, Québec; Mark Bilbrey, University of Iowa; Daniel Boscaljon, University

9

of Iowa; William Bradley, Chowan University; Ayse Bucak, Florida Atlantic University; Shannon Bush, El Camino College; Jeff Chan, Austin Community College; Terence A. Dalrymple, Angelo State University; Susan Dalton, Alamance Community College; Steven Daniels, Southern Methodist University; Donald Deeley, Temple University; Charles Donaldson, Santa Monica College; Frank Donoghue, The Ohio State University; Elise Donovan, Union County College; Africa Fine, Palm Beach State College; George Greenlee, Missouri Southern State University; Christine Guedon-DeConcini, Rutgers University; James Guthrie, Wright State University; William David Halloran, Indiana University; Barbara Henning, Long Island University; Kelly Jarvis, Central Connecticut State University; Stephen Jones, University of Colorado at Boulder; Renee Karp, Vanier College; Patricia S. Kennedy, University of North Carolina—Chapel Hill; Alice Kinder, Virginia Tech; Carrie Krantz, Washtenaw Community College; Brenda Kwon, Honolulu Community College; Ruth Lane, Loyola Marymount University; Don S. Lawson, Lander University; Simon Lewis, College of Charleston; Cory Lund, Southwestern Illinois College; Courtney Mauk, College of Staten Island/CUNY; Betsy McCully, Kingsborough Community College/CUNY; Adam McKible, John Jay College of Criminal Justice; Mildred R. Mickle, University of North Carolina—Chapel Hill; Sturgis Monteith, Northwest Mississippi Community College; Meg Morgan, University of North Carolina—Charlotte; Faye Moskowitz, George Washington University; Carolyn Nelson, West Virginia University; Brian Norman, Loyola University Maryland; Michele A. Panossian, Lehman College/CUNY; Jude Roy, Madisonville Community College; Chris Ruiz- Velasco, California State University—Fullerton; Margot Singer, Denison University; Will Smiley, University of Iowa; Natalie Yasmin Soto, Cornell University; Michael Steinman, Nassau Community College; Robert Love Taylor, Bucknell University; Gary Tessmer, University of Pittsburgh— Bradford; Deborah Chappel Traylor, Arkansas State University; Catherine Tudish, Dartmouth College; James G. Van Belle, Edmonds Community College; Annette Wannamaker, Eastern Michigan University; John Wegner, Angelo State University; Jess Westover, University of Nevada— Reno; Lawrence Wharton, University of Alabama—Birmingham; Holly A. Wheeler, Monroe Community College; Charlene Williams, Ocean County College; Charles Yarnoff, Northwestern University; John Zackel, Portland Community College—Rock Creek. Some of these reviewers may have retired or moved on by now, but they all left their mark on earlier editions of 40 Short Stories.

My deep thanks to all those at Bedford/St. Martin’s who devoted their

10

professional knowledge and skill to the creation of this book: especially Steve Scipione, for his sophisticated and profound knowledge of literature and publishing and his compassionate and cooperative involvement in the making of this book. Others in editorial positions I wish to thank include Edwin Hill, Vice President Editorial, Humanities; Karen Henry, Editorial Director; Vivian Garcia, Acquistions Editor; and especially Julia Domenicucci for all her assistance in matters of manuscript preparation and last-minute problem-solving. In the production department, thanks go to Elise Kaiser, Managing Editor, and Pamela Lawson, Production Editor. I am grateful to Permissions Manager Kalina Ingham and to Arthur Johnson, who cleared the permissions for the fifth edition.

I wish to thank my daughters Pamela Lawn-Williams and Hilary Lawn Cantilina for their patience and encouragement of this task, and to thank my late husband, artist and teacher Bob Lawn, for his love and unswerving support of my writing and research. I dedicate this book to Robert Lawn, artist and teacher.

—Beverly Lawn

GET THE MOST OUT OF YOUR COURSE WITH 40 SHORT STORIES: A PORTABLE ANTHOLOGY

40 Short Stories doesn’t stop with a book. Bedford/St. Martin’s offers resources that help you and your students get even more out of your book and course. You’ll also find convenient instructor resources, and even a nationwide community of teachers. To learn more about or to order any of the following products, contact your Bedford/St. Martin’s sales representative or visit macmillanlearning.com.

Encourage practice with close reading and improve your students’ overall success with LaunchPad Solo for Literature

macmillanhighered.com/launchpadsolo/literature

To get the most out of 40 Short Stories, assign it with LaunchPad Solo for Literature, which can be packaged at no additional cost. With easy-to-use and easy-to-assign modules, reading comprehension quizzes, and engaging author videos, LaunchPad Solo for Literature guides students through three common assignment types: responding to a reading, drawing

11

http://macmillanlearning.com
http://macmillanhighered.com/launchpadsolo/literature
connections between and among texts, and instructor-led collaborative close reading. Get all our great resources and activities in one fully customizable space online; then use our tools with your own content. Use ISBN 978-1-319-07188-2 to order LaunchPad Solo for Literature packaged with 40 Short Stories for your students.

Discover instructor resources and teaching ideas you can use today

Are you looking for professional resources for teaching literature and writing? How about some help with planning classroom activities? Join our community! The Macmillan English Community is now home to Bedford/St.Martin’s professional resources, featuring content to support the teaching of literature, including our popular blog site, LitBits. Visit community.macmillan.com.

Community members can: Share and discuss Join the conversation about what makes literature important—and see the data that proves it! Find articles, research studies, and testimonials on the importance of literature in our classrooms and in our lives. Connect with authors LitBits is the place to see how literature teachers, scholars, and writers such as Heather Sellers, Joanne Diaz, David Eshelman, and Emily Isaacson are inspiring the next generation. Engage with them and share your ideas, too! Review projects and ideas in the pipeline We’re hard at work on the educational books and media of the future, and we welcome your ideas to make them great. Engage your students with digital assignments Teaching Literature with Digital Technology is a collection of digital assignments, each created by a contributor in the fields of literature and composition. Edited by Seattle-based scholar and teacher Tim Hetland and available as a print text or PDF e-book, this resource for instructors invites students to become knowledge-makers as it introduces creative uses of social media, digital tools, podcasts, multimodal assignments, and digital archives to learn about literature. Sample assignments can be viewed in the Professional Resources tab on the Macmillan English Community site. To order the print text, use ISBN: 978-1-4576-2948-8; to order a PDF e-book of the text, use ISBN: 978-1-3190-7643-6.

Teaching Literature with Digital Technology: Assignments is available in a

12

http://community.macmillan.com
variety of PDF e-book formats. For details, visit macmillanhighered.com/hetland/catalog.

Package one of our best-selling brief handbooks at a discount

Do you need a pocket-sized handbook for your course? Package Easy Writer by Andrea Lunsford or A Pocket Style Manual by Diana Hacker and Nancy Sommers with this text at a 20% discount. For more information, go to macmillanlearning.com/easywriter/catalog or macmillanlearning.com/pocketstylemanual/catalog.

Supplement 40 Short Stories with content from the Bedford Select custom database

Bedford Select makes it easy to augment your Bedford/St. Martin’s textbook with additional readings. Choose from more than 800 essays, stories, poems, plays, images, and instructional materials in the Bedford Select database—and build an affordable supplementary text for your students. To find out more, visit macmillanlearning/select.

Trade-Up and save 50%

Add more value and choice to your students’ learning experiences by packaging their Bedford/St. Martin’s textbook with one of a thousand titles from our sister publishers, including Farrar, Straus and Giroux and St. Martin’s Press—at a discount of 50% off the regular price. Visit macmillanhighered.com/tradeup for details.

13

http://macmillanhighered.com/hetland/catalog
http://macmillanlearning.com/easywriter/catalog
http://macmillanlearning.com/pocketstylemanual/catalog
http://www.macmillanlearning/select
http://macmillanhighered.com/tradeup
Contents

Preface for Instructors Other Ways into the Stories: Alternative Contents

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE Young Goodman Brown

EDGAR ALLAN POE The Cask of Amontillado

HERMAN MELVILLE Bartleby, the Scrivener

KATE CHOPIN The Story of an Hour

ANTON CHEKHOV The Lady with the Dog

CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN The Yellow Wallpaper

WILLA CATHER Paul’s Case

JAMES JOYCE Araby

FRANZ KAFKA A Hunger Artist

KATHERINE MANSFIELD Miss Brill

WILLIAM FAULKNER A Rose for Emily

ERNEST HEMINGWAY

14

Hills Like White Elephants EUDORA WELTY

A Worn Path RALPH ELLISON

Battle Royal SHIRLEY JACKSON

The Lottery JAMES BALDWIN

Sonny’s Blues FLANNERY O’CONNOR

A Good Man Is Hard to Find GABRIEL GARCÍA MÁRQUEZ

A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings JOHN UPDIKE

A & P EDITH PEARLMAN

Inbound RAYMOND CARVER

Cathedral JOYCE CAROL OATES

Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been? TONI CADE BAMBARA

The Lesson MARGARET ATWOOD

Happy Endings ALICE WALKER

Everyday Use TIM O’BRIEN

The Things They Carried T. CORAGHESSAN BOYLE

The Night of the Satellite LESLIE MARMON SILKO

The Man to Send Rain Clouds

15

JAMAICA KINCAID Girl

AMY TAN Two Kinds

SANDRA CISNEROS The House on Mango Street

MARK HADDON The Gun

SHERMAN ALEXIE The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven

JHUMPA LAHIRI Interpreter of Maladies

JUNOT DÍAZ Fiesta, 1980

YIYUN LI A Man Like Him

JOSHUA FERRIS The Breeze

CHIMAMANDA NGOZI ADICHIE Birdsong

LAUREN GROFF At the Round Earth’s Imagined Corners

KAREN RUSSELL Vampires in the Lemon Grove

Reading Short Stories Closely

Writing about Short Stories

Biographical Notes on the Authors

Glossary of Literary Terms

Acknowledgments

Index of Authors and Titles

16

Other Ways into the Stories: Alternative Contents

ELEMENTS OF FICTION

PLOT Edgar Allan Poe, “The Cask of Amontillado” Kate Chopin, “The Story of an Hour” Eudora Welty, “A Worn Path” Shirley Jackson, “The Lottery” Edith Pearlman, “Inbound” Margaret Atwood, “Happy Endings” Yiyun Li, “A Man Like Him”

CHARACTER Herman Melville, “Bartleby, the Scrivener” Anton Chekhov, “The Lady with the Dog” Willa Cather, “Paul’s Case” Katherine Mansfield, “Miss Brill” Flannery O’Connor, “A Good Man Is Hard to Find” Jhumpa Lahiri, “Interpreter of Maladies”

SETTING Nathaniel Hawthorne, “Young Goodman Brown” Charlotte Perkins Gilman, “The Yellow Wallpaper” William Faulkner, “A Rose for Emily” Edith Pearlman, “Inbound” Joshua Ferris, “The Breeze” Lauren Groff, “At the Round Earth’s Imagined Corners”

17

POINT OF VIEW Charlotte Perkins Gilman, “The Yellow Wallpaper” Katherine Mansfield, “Miss Brill” William Faulkner, “A Rose for Emily” James Baldwin, “Sonny’s Blues” Sandra Cisneros, “The House on Mango Street” Junot Díaz, “Fiesta, 1980” Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, “Birdsong”

STYLE, TONE, IRONY Herman Melville, “Bartleby, the Scrivener” William Faulkner, “A Rose for Emily” Ernest Hemingway, “Hills Like White Elephants” Flannery O’Connor, “A Good Man Is Hard to Find” Raymond Carver, “Cathedral” Toni Cade Bambara, “The Lesson” Jamaica Kincaid, “Girl”

SYMBOL AND METAPHOR James Joyce, “Araby” Gabriel García Márquez, “A Very Old Man with Enormous

Wings” 40 Short Stories: John Updike, “A & P” Tim O’Brien, “The Things They Carried” T. Coraghessan Boyle, “The Night of the Satellite” Mark Haddon, “The Gun” Lauren Groff, “At the Round Earth’s Imagined Corners”

THEMATIC GROUPINGS

ARTISTIC EXPRESSION Willa Cather, “Paul’s Case” Franz Kafka, “A Hunger Artist” James Baldwin, “Sonny’s Blues” Raymond Carver, “Cathedral” Margaret Atwood, “Happy Endings”

18

CULTURAL CONFRONTATIONS Ralph Ellison, “Battle Royal” Toni Cade Bambara, “The Lesson” Alice Walker, “Everyday Use” Sherman Alexie, “The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in

Heaven” Yiyun Li, “A Man Like Him”

CULTURAL DIFFERENCES James Joyce, “Araby” Leslie Marmon Silko, “The Man to Send Rain Clouds” Amy Tan, “Two Kinds” Jhumpa Lahiri, “Interpreter of Maladies” Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, “Birdsong”

FAMILIES Edith Pearlman, “Inbound” Alice Walker, “Everyday Use” Amy Tan, “Two Kinds” Sandra Cisneros, “The House on Mango Street” Junot Díaz, “Fiesta, 1980” Lauren Groff, “At the Round Earth’s Imagined Corners”

INNOCENCE AND EXPERIENCE Willa Cather, “Paul’s Case” James Joyce, “Araby” Ralph Ellison, “Battle Royal” 40 Short Stories: John Updike, “A & P” Joyce Carol Oates, “Where Are You Going, Where Have You

Been?” Toni Cade Bambara, “The Lesson” Junot Díaz, “Fiesta, 1980”

JOURNEYS Nathaniel Hawthorne, “Young Goodman Brown” James Joyce, “Araby” Eudora Welty, “A Worn Path”

19

Edith Pearlman, “Inbound” Toni Cade Bambara, “The Lesson” Tim O’Brien, “The Things They Carried” T. Coraghessan Boyle, “The Night of the Satellite” Joshua Ferris, “The Breeze”

LOVE AND HATE Edgar Allan Poe, “The Cask of Amontillado” Kate Chopin, “The Story of an Hour” Anton Chekhov, “The Lady with the Dog” Ernest Hemingway, “Hills Like White Elephants” Margaret Atwood, “Happy Endings” T. Coraghessan Boyle, “The Night of the Satellite” Joshua Ferris, “The Breeze” Lauren Groff, “At the Round Earth’s Imagined Corners”

THE LURE OF THE FORBIDDEN Nathaniel Hawthorne, “Young Goodman Brown” James Joyce, “Araby” James Baldwin, “Sonny’s Blues” Joyce Carol Oates, “Where Are You Going, Where Have You

Been?” Mark Haddon, “The Gun” Karen Russell, “Vampires in the Lemon Grove”

MYTH AND ARCHETYPE Franz Kafka, “A Hunger Artist” Eudora Welty, “A Worn Path” Gabriel García Márquez, “A Very Old Man with Enormous

Wings” Joyce Carol Oates, “Where Are You Going, Where Have You

Been?” Leslie Marmon Silko, “The Man to Send Rain Clouds” Sherman Alexie, “The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in

Heaven” Karen Russell, “Vampires in the Lemon Grove”

20

STORIES FROM AROUND THE WORLD Anton Chekhov, “The Lady with the Dog” (Russia) James Joyce, “Araby” (Ireland) Franz Kafka, “A Hunger Artist” (then Austria-Hungary, now

Czech Republic) Katherine Mansfield, “Miss Brill” (New Zealand) Gabriel García Márquez, “A Very Old Man with Enormous

Wings” (Colombia) Margaret Atwood, “Happy Endings” (Canada) Jamaica Kincaid, “Girl” (Antigua) Mark Haddon, “The Gun” (England) Jhumpa Lahiri, “Interpreter of Maladies” (India) Junot Díaz, “Fiesta, 1980” (Dominican Republic) Yiyun Li, “A Man Like Him” (China) Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, “Birdsong”(Nigeria)

SUSPENSE AND TERROR Edgar Allan Poe, “The Cask of Amontillado” Charlotte Perkins Gilman, “The Yellow Wallpaper” William Faulkner, “A Rose for Emily” Shirley Jackson, “The Lottery” Joyce Carol Oates, “Where Are You Going, Where Have You

Been?” Mark Haddon, “The Gun” Karen Russell, “Vampires in the Lemon Grove”

YOUTH AND AGE Willa Cather, “Paul’s Case” Katherine Mansfield, “Miss Brill” Eudora Welty, “A Worn Path” Flannery O’Connor, “A Good Man Is Hard to Find” 40 Short Stories: John Updike, “A & P” Tony Cade Bambara, “The Lesson” Jamaica Kincaid, “Girl” Karen Russell, “Vampires in the Lemon Grove”

21

Young Goodman Brown NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

[1804–1864]

Young Goodman Brown came forth at sunset into the street at Salem village; but put his head back, after crossing the threshold, to exchange a parting kiss with his young wife. And Faith, as the wife was aptly named, thrust her own pretty head into the street, letting the wind play with the pink ribbons of her cap while she called to Goodman Brown.

“Dearest heart,” whispered she, softly and rather sadly, when her lips were close to his ear, “prithee put off your journey until sunrise and sleep in your own bed to-night. A lone woman is troubled with such dreams and such thoughts that she’s afeared of herself sometimes. Pray tarry with me this night, dear husband, of all nights in the year.”

“My love and my Faith,” replied young Goodman Brown, “of all nights in the year, this one night must I tarry away from thee. My journey, as thou callest it, forth and back again, must needs be done ’twixt now and sunrise. What, my sweet, pretty wife, dost thou doubt me already, and we but three months married?”

“Then God bless you!” said Faith, with the pink ribbons, “and may you find all well when you come back.”

“Amen!” cried Goodman Brown. “Say thy prayers, dear Faith, and go to bed at dusk, and no harm will come to thee.”

So they parted; and the young man pursued his way until, being about to turn the corner by the meeting-house, he looked back and saw the head of Faith still peeping after him with a melancholy air, in spite of her pink ribbons.

“Poor little Faith!” thought he, for his heart smote him. “What a wretch am I to leave her on such an errand! She talks of dreams, too. Methought as she spoke there was trouble in her face, as if a dream had warned her

22

what work is to be done to-night. But no, no; ’t would kill her to think it. Well, she’s a blessed angel on earth, and after this one night I’ll cling to her skirts and follow her to heaven.”

With this excellent resolve for the future, Goodman Brown felt himself justified in making more haste on his present evil purpose. He had taken a dreary road, darkened by all the gloomiest trees of the forest, which barely stood aside to let the narrow path creep through, and closed immediately behind. It was all as lonely as could be; and there is this peculiarity in such a solitude, that the traveller knows not who may be concealed by the innumerable trunks and the thick boughs overhead; so that with lonely footsteps he may yet be passing through an unseen multitude.

“There may be a devilish Indian behind every tree,” said Goodman Brown to himself; and he glanced fearfully behind him as he added, “What if the devil himself should be at my very elbow!”

His head being turned back, he passed a crook of the road, and, looking forward again, beheld the figure of a man, in grave and decent attire, seated at the foot of an old tree. He arose at Goodman Brown’s approach and walked onward side by side with him.

“You are late, Goodman Brown,” said he. “The clock of the Old South was striking as I came through Boston, and that is full fifteen minutes agone.”

“Faith kept me back a while,” replied the young man, with a tremor in his voice, caused by the sudden appearance of his companion, though not wholly unexpected.

It was now deep dusk in the forest, and deepest in that part of it where these two were journeying. As nearly as could be discerned, the second traveller was about fifty years old, apparently in the same rank of life as Goodman Brown, and bearing a considerable resemblance to him, though perhaps more in expression than features. Still they might have been taken for father and son. And yet, though the elder person was as simply clad as the younger, and as simple in manner too, he had an indescribable air of one who knew the world, and who would not have felt abashed at the governor’s dinner table or in King William’s court, were it possible that his affairs should call him thither. But the only thing about him that could be fixed upon as remarkable was his staff, which bore the likeness of a great black snake, so curiously wrought that it might almost be seen to twist and wriggle itself like a living serpent. This, of course, must have been an ocular deception, assisted by the uncertain light.

“Come, Goodman Brown,” cried his fellow-traveller, “this is a dull pace for the beginning of a journey. Take my staff, if you are so soon weary.”

23

“Friend,” said the other, exchanging his slow pace for a full stop, “having kept covenant by meeting thee here, it is my purpose now to return whence I came. I have scruples touching the matter thou wot’st of.”

“Sayest thou so?” replied he of the serpent, smiling apart. “Let us walk on, nevertheless, reasoning as we go; and if I convince thee not thou shalt turn back. We are but a little way in the forest yet.”

“Too far! too far!” exclaimed the goodman, unconsciously resuming his walk. “My father never went into the woods on such an errand, nor his father before him. We have been a race of honest men and good Christians since the days of the martyrs; and shall I be the first of the name of Brown that ever took this path and kept—”

“Such company, thou wouldst say,” observed the elder person, interpreting his pause. “Well said, Goodman Brown! I have been as well acquainted with your family as with ever a one among the Puritans; and that’s no trifle to say. I helped your grandfather, the constable, when he lashed the Quaker woman so smartly through the streets of Salem; and it was I that brought your father a pitch-pine knot, kindled at my own hearth, to set fire to an Indian village, in King Philip’s war.1 They were my good friends, both; and many a pleasant walk have we had along this path, and returned merrily after midnight. I would fain be friends with you for their sake.”

“If it be as thou sayest,” replied Goodman Brown, “I marvel they never spoke of these matters; or, verily, I marvel not, seeing that the least rumor of the sort would have driven them from New England. We are a people of prayer, and good works to boot, and abide no such wickedness.”

“Wickedness or not,” said the traveller with the twisted staff, “I have a very general acquaintance here in New England. The deacons of many a church have drunk the communion wine with me; the selectmen of divers towns make me their chairman; and a majority of the Great and General Court are firm supporters of my interest. The governor and I, too—But these are state secrets.”

“Can this be so?” cried Goodman Brown, with a stare of amazement at his undisturbed companion. “Howbeit, I have nothing to do with the governor and council; they have their own ways, and are no rule for a simple husbandman like me. But, were I to go on with thee, how should I meet the eye of that good old man, our minister, at Salem village? Oh, his voice would make me tremble both Sabbath day and lecture day.”

Thus far the elder traveller had listened with due gravity; but now burst into a fit of irrepressible mirth, shaking himself so violently that his snake- like staff actually seemed to wriggle in sympathy.

“Ha! ha! ha!” shouted he again and again; then composing himself,

24

“Well, go on, Goodman Brown, go on; but, prithee, don’t kill me with laughing.”

“Well, then, to end the matter at once,” said Goodman Brown, considerably nettled, “there is my wife, Faith. It would break her dear little heart; and I’d rather break my own.”

“Nay, if that be the case,” answered the other, “e’en go thy ways, Goodman Brown. I would not for twenty old women like the one hobbling before us that Faith should come to any harm.”

As he spoke he pointed his staff at a female figure on the path, in whom Goodman Brown recognized a very pious and exemplary dame, who had taught him his catechism in youth, and was still his moral and spiritual adviser, jointly with the minister and Deacon Gookin.

“A marvel, truly that Goody Cloyse should be so far in the wilderness at nightfall,” said he. “But with your leave, friend, I shall take a cut through the woods until we have left this Christian woman behind. Being a stranger to you, she might ask whom I was consorting with and whither I was going.”

“Be it so,” said his fellow-traveller. “Betake you to the woods, and let me keep the path.”

Accordingly the young man turned aside, but took care to watch his companion, who advanced softly along the road until he had come within a staff’s length of the old dame. She, meanwhile, was making the best of her way, with singular speed for so aged a woman, and mumbling some indistinct words—a prayer, doubtless—as she went. The 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 leaning on his writhing stick. “Ah, forsooth, and is it your worship indeed?” cried the good dame.

“Yea, truly is it, and in the very image of my old gossip, Goodman Brown, the grandfather of the silly fellow that now is. But—would your worship believe it?—my broomstick hath strangely disappeared, stolen, as I suspect, by that unhanged witch, Goody Cory, and that, too, when I was all anointed with the juice of smallage, and cinquefoil, and wolf’s bane—”2

“Mingled with fine wheat and the fat of a new-born babe,” said the shape of old Goodman Brown.

“Ah, your worship knows the recipe,” cried the old lady, cackling aloud. “So, as I was saying, being all ready for the meeting, and no horse to ride on, I made up my mind to foot it; for they tell me there is a nice young man to be taken into communion to-night. But now your good

25

worship will lend me your arm, and we shall be there in a twinkling.” “That can hardly be,” answered her friend. “I may not spare you my

arm, Goody Cloyse; but here is my staff, if you will.” So saying, he threw it down at her feet, where, perhaps, it assumed life,

being one of the rods which its owner had formerly lent to the Egyptian magi. Of this fact, however, Goodman Brown could not take cognizance. He had cast up his eyes in astonishment, and, looking down again, beheld neither Goody Cloyse nor the serpentine staff, but his fellow-traveller alone, who waited for him as calmly as if nothing had happened.

“That old woman taught me my catechism,” said the young man; and there was a world of meaning in this simple comment.

They continued to walk onward, while the elder traveller exhorted his companion to make good speed and persevere in the path, discoursing so aptly that his arguments seemed rather to spring up in the bosom of his auditor than to be suggested by himself. As they went, he plucked a branch of maple to serve for a walking stick, and began to strip it of the twigs and little boughs, which were wet with evening dew. The moment his fingers touched them they became strangely withered and dried up as with a week’s sunshine. Thus the pair proceeded, at a good free pace, until suddenly, in a gloomy hollow of the road, Goodman Brown sat himself down on the stump of a tree and refused to go any farther.

“Friend,” he said, stubbornly, “my mind is made up. Not another step will I budge on this errand. What if a wretched old woman do choose to go to the devil when I thought she was going to heaven: is that any reason why I should quit my dear Faith and go after her?”

“You will think better of this by and by,” said his acquaintance, composedly. “Sit here and rest yourself a while; and when you feel like moving again, there is my staff to help you along.”

Without more words, he threw his companion the maple stick, and was as speedily out of sight as if he had vanished into the deepening gloom. The young man sat a few moments by the roadside, applauding himself greatly, and thinking with how clear a conscience he should meet the minister in his morning walk, nor shrink from the eye of good old Deacon Gookin. And what calm sleep would be his that very night, which was to have been spent so wickedly, but so purely and sweetly now, in the arms of Faith! Amidst these pleasant and praiseworthy meditations, Goodman Brown heard the tramp of horses along the road, and deemed it advisable to conceal himself within the verge of the forest, conscious of the guilty purpose that had brought him thither, though now so happily turned from it.

On came the hoof tramps and the voices of the riders, two grave old

26

voices, conversing soberly as they drew near. These mingled sounds appeared to pass along the road, within a few yards of the young man’s hiding-place; but, owing doubtless to the depth of the gloom at that particular spot, neither the travellers nor their steeds were visible. Though their figures brushed the small boughs by the wayside, it could not be seen that they intercepted, even for a moment, the faint gleam from the strip of 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 to the sky, doubting whether there really was a heaven above him. Yet there was the blue arch, and the stars brightening in it.

“With heaven above and Faith below, I will yet stand firm against the devil!” cried Goodman Brown.

While he still gazed upward into the deep arch of the firmament and had lifted his hands to pray, a cloud, though no wind was stirring, hurried across the zenith and hid the brightening stars. The blue sky was still visible, except directly overhead, where this black mass of cloud was sweeping swiftly northward. Aloft in the air, as if from the depths of the cloud, came a confused and doubtful sound of voices. Once the listener fancied that he could distinguish the accents of towns-people of his own,

27

men and women, both pious and ungodly, many of whom he had met at the communion table, and had seen others rioting at the tavern. The next moment, so indistinct were the sounds, he doubted whether he had heard aught but the murmur of the old forest, whispering without a wind. Then came a stronger swell of those familiar tones, heard daily in the sunshine at Salem village, but never until now from a cloud of night. There was one voice, of a young woman, uttering lamentations, yet with an uncertain sorrow, and entreating for some favor, which, perhaps, it would grieve her to obtain; and all the unseen multitude, both saints and sinners, seemed to encourage her onward.

“Faith!” shouted Goodman Brown, in a voice of agony and desperation; and the echoes of the forest mocked him, crying, “Faith! Faith!” as if bewildered wretches were seeking her all through the wilderness.

The cry of grief, rage, and terror was yet piercing the night, when the unhappy husband held his breath for a response. There was a scream, drowned immediately in a louder murmur of voices, fading into far-off laughter, as the dark cloud swept away, leaving the clear and silent sky above Goodman Brown. But something fluttered lightly down through the air and caught on the branch of a tree. The young man seized it, and beheld a pink ribbon.

“My Faith is gone!” cried he after one stupefied moment. “There is no good on earth; and sin is but a name. Come, devil; for to thee is this world given.”

And, maddened with despair, so that he laughed loud and long, did Goodman Brown grasp his staff and set forth again, at such a rate that he seemed to fly along the forest path rather than to walk or run. The road grew wilder and drearier and more faintly traced, and vanished at length, leaving him in the heart of the dark wilderness, still rushing onward with the instinct that guides mortal man to evil. The whole forest was peopled with frightful sounds—the creaking of the trees, the howling of wild beasts, and the yell of Indians; while sometimes the wind tolled like a distant church bell, and sometimes gave a broad roar around the traveller, as if all Nature were laughing him to scorn. But he was himself the chief horror of the scene, and shrank not from its other horrors.

“Ha! ha! ha!” roared Goodman Brown when the wind laughed at him. “Let us hear which will laugh loudest. Think not to frighten me with your deviltry. Come witch, come wizard, come Indian powwow, come devil himself, and here comes Goodman Brown. You may as well fear him as he fear you.”

In truth, all through the haunted forest there could be nothing more frightful than the figure of Goodman Brown. On he flew among the black

28

pines, brandishing his staff with frenzied gestures, now giving vent to an inspiration of horrid blasphemy, and now shouting forth such laughter as set all the echoes of the forest laughing like demons around him. The fiend in his own shape is less hideous than when he rages in the breast of man. Thus sped the demoniac on his course, until, quivering among the trees, he saw a red light before him, as when the felled trunks and branches of a clearing have been set on fire, and throw up their lurid blaze against the sky, at the hour of midnight. He paused, in a lull of the tempest that had driven him onward, and heard the swell of what seemed a hymn, rolling solemnly from a distance with the weight of many voices. He knew the tune; it was a familiar one in the choir of the village meeting-house. The verse died heavily away, and was lengthened by a chorus, not of human voices, but of all the sounds of the benighted wilderness pealing in awful harmony together. Goodman Brown cried out, and his cry was lost to his own ear by its unison with the cry of the desert.

In the interval of silence he stole forward until the light glared full upon his eyes. At one extremity of an open space, hemmed in by the dark wall of the forest, arose a rock, bearing some rude, natural resemblance either to an altar or a pulpit, and surrounded by four blazing pines, their tops aflame, their stems untouched, like candles at an evening meeting. The mass of foliage that had overgrown the summit of the rock was all on fire, blazing high into the night and fitfully illuminating the whole field. Each pendent twig and leafy festoon was in a blaze. As the red light arose and fell, a numerous congregation alternately shone forth, then disappeared in shadow, and again grew, as it were, out of the darkness, peopling the heart of the solitary woods at once.

“A grave and dark-clad company,” quoth Goodman Brown. In truth they were such. Among them, quivering to and fro between

gloom and splendor, appeared faces that would be seen next day at the council board of the province, and others which, Sabbath after Sabbath, looked devoutly heavenward, and benignantly over the crowded pews, from the holiest pulpits in the land. Some affirm that the lady of the governor was there. At least there were high dames well known to her, and wives of honored husbands, and widows, a great multitude, and ancient maidens, all of excellent repute, and fair young girls, who trembled lest their mothers should espy them. Either the sudden gleams of light flashing over the obscure field bedazzled Goodman Brown, or he recognized a score of the church members of Salem village famous for their especial sanctity. Good old Deacon Gookin had arrived, and waited at the skirts of that venerable saint, his revered pastor. But, irreverently consorting with these grave, reputable, and pious people, these elders of the church, these

29

chaste dames and dewy virgins, there were men of dissolute lives and women of spotted fame, wretches given over to all mean and filthy vice, and suspected even of horrid crimes. It was strange to see that the good shrank not from the wicked, nor were the sinners abashed by the saints. Scattered also among their pale-faced enemies were the Indian priests, or powwows, who had often scared their native forest with more hideous incantations than any known to English witchcraft.