The husband cast one look at his pale wife, and Faith at him. We are a people of prayer, and good works to boot, and abide no such wickedness.
Why does goodman brown go into the forest
He looks around, afraid of what might be behind each tree, thinking that there might be Indians or the devil himself lurking there. 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. Or religious leaders doing not-so-religious things. Either the sudden gleams of light flashing over the obscure field bedazzled Goodman Brown, or he recognised a score of the church members of Salem Village famous for their especial sanctity. Comic artist Kate Beaton satirized the story in a series of comic strips for her webcomic Hark! Finally, he sees Faith at his own house and refuses to greet her. When Faith ran up joyfully to kiss him, he looked at her sadly and walked away without saying anything. 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. He staggered against the rock, and felt it chill and damp; while a hanging twig, that had been all on fire, besprinkled his cheek with the coldest dew. Brown then wandered toward noises he heard deeper in the woods. 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. Hawthorne's story is here to remind us that there are no easy answers. In "Young Goodman Brown", as with much of his other writing, he utilizes ambiguity.
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.
He lives the remainder of his life in gloom and fear. 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.
Herein did the shape of evil dip his hand and prepare to lay the mark of baptism upon their foreheads, that they might be partakers of the mystery of sin, more conscious of the secret guilt of others, both in deed and thought, than they could now be of their own.
On he flew among the black 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.
When the minister spoke from the pulpit with power and fervid eloquence, and, with his hand on the open Bible, of the sacred truths of our religion, and of saint-like lives and triumphant deaths, and of future bliss or misery unutterable, then did Goodman Brown turn pale, dreading lest the roof should thunder down upon the grey blasphemer and his hearers.
But - would your worship believe it?
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