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Young Goodman Brown

           Whither,then,couldtheseholymenbejourneyingsodeepintotheheathenwilderness?YoungGoodmanBrowncaughtholdofatreeforsupport,beingreadytosinkdownontheground,faintandoverburdenedwiththeheavysicknessofhisheart.Helookeduptothesky,doubtingwhethertherereallywasaheavenabovehim.Yettherewasthebluearch,andthestarsbrighteninginit.

           "WithheavenaboveandFaithbelow,Iwillyetstandfirmagainstthedevil!"criedGoodmanBrown.

           Whilehestillgazedupwardintothedeeparchofthefirmamentandhadliftedhishandstopray,acloud,thoughnowindwasstirring,hurriedacrossthezenithandhidthebrighteningstars.Theblueskywasstillvisible,exceptdirectlyoverhead,wherethisblackmassofcloudwassweepingswiftlynorthward.Aloftintheair,asiffromthedepthsofthecloud,cameaconfusedanddoubtfulsoundofvoices.Oncethelistenerfanciedthathecoulddistinguishtheaccentsoftowns-peopleofhisown,menandwomen,bothpiousandungodly,manyofwhomhehadmetatthecommuniontable,andhadseenothersriotingatthetavern.Thenextmoment,soindistinctwerethesounds,hedoubtedwhetherhehadheardaughtbutthemurmuroftheoldforest,whisperingwithoutawind.

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