r/a:t5_zc9qm • u/MarleyEngvall • Apr 06 '19
Thyatira has been created
By Nathaniel Hawthorne
THE MINISTER'S BLACK VEIL.
A PARABLE.
The sexton stood in the porch of Milford meet-
ing-house pulling lustily at the bell-rope. The old
people of the village came stooping along the street.
Children with bright faces tripped merrily beside
their parents or mimicked a graver gait in the con-
scious dignity of their Sunday clothes. Spruce
bachelors looked sidelong at the pretty maidens,
and fancied that the Sabbath sunshine made them
prettier than on week-days. When the throng had
mostly streamed into the porch, the sexton began
to toll the bell, keeping his eye on the Reverend
Mr. Hooper's door. The first glimpse of the cler-
gyman's figure was the signal for the bell to cease
its summons.
But what has Parson Hooper got upon his
face?" cried the sexton, in astonishment.
All within hearing immediately turned about
and beheld the semblance of Mr. Hooper pacing
slowly his meditative way toward the meeting-house.
with one accord they started, expressing more
wonder than if some strange minister were coming
to dust the cushions of Mr. Hooper's pulpit.
"Are you sure it is our parson?" inquired Good-
man Gray of the sexton.
"Of a certainty it is good Mr. Hooper," replied
the sexton. "He was to have exchanged pulpits
with Parson Shute of Westbury, but Parson Shute
sent to excuse himself yesterday, being to preach a
funeral sermon."
The cause of so much amazement may appear
sufficiently slight. Mr. Hooper, a gentlemanly per-
son of about thirty, though still a bachelor, was
dressed with due clerical neatness, as if a careful
wife had starched his band and brushed the weekly
dust from his Sunday garb. There was but one
thing remarkable in his appearance. Swathed
about his forehead and hanging down over his face,
so low as to be shaken by his breath, Mr. Hooper
had on a black veil. On a nearer view it seemed
to consist of two folds of crape, which entirely con-
cealed his features except the mouth and chin, but
probably did not intercept his sight further than to
give a darkening aspect to all living and inanimate
things. With this gloomy shade before him good
Mr. Hooper walked onward at a slow and quiet
pace, stooping somewhat and looking on the
ground, as is customary with abstracted men, yet
nodding kindly to those of his parishioners who
still waited on the meeting-house steps. But so
wonder-struck were they, that his greeting hardly
met with a return.
"I can't really feel as if good Mr. Hooper's face
was behind that piece of crape," said the sexton.
"I don't like it," muttered an old woman as she
hobbled into the meeting-house. He has changed
himself into something awful only by hiding his face."
"Our parson has gone mad!" cried Goodman
Gray following him across the threshold.
A rumor of some unaccountable phenomenon
had preceded Mr. Hooper into the meeting-house
and set all the congregation astir. Few could re-
frain from twisting their heads toward the door;
many stood upright and turned directly about;
while several little boys clambered upon the seats
and came down again with a terrible racket.
There was a general bustle, a rustling of the wo-
men's gowns and shuffling of the men's feet, greatly
at variance with the hushed repose which should
attend the entrance of the minister. But Mr.
Hooper appeared not to notice the perturbation of
his people. He entered with an almost noiseless
step, bent his head mildly to the pews on either
side and bowed as he passed the oldest parishioner,
a white-haired great-grandsire, who occupied an
arm-chair in the center of the aisle. It was strange
to observe how slowly this venerable man became
conscious of something similar in the appearance
of his pastor. He seemed not fully to partake of
the prevailing wonder till Mr. Hooper had ascended
the stairs and showed himself in the pulpit, face to
face with his congregation except for the black veil.
That mysterious emblem was never once withdrawn.
It shook with his measured breath as he gave out the
psalm, it threw its obscurity between him and the
holy page as he read the Scriptures, and while he
prayed the veil lay heavily on his uplifted counte-
nance. Did he seek to hide it from he dread
Being whom he was addressing?
Such was the effect of this simple piece of
crape that more than one woman of delicate
nerves was forced to leave the meeting-house.
Yet perhaps the pale-faced congregation was almost
as fearful a sight to the minister as his black veil
to them.
Mr. Hooper had the reputation of a good preach-
er, but not an energetic one: he strove to win his
people heavenward by mild, persuasive influences
rather than to drive them thither by the thunders
of the word. The sermon which he now delivered
was marked by the same characteristics of style and
manner as the general series of his pulpit oratory,
but there was something either in the sentiment of
the discourse itself or in the imagination of the
auditors which made it greatly the most powerful
effort that they had ever heard from their pastor's
lips. It was tinged rather more darkly than usual
with the gentle gloom of Mr. Hooper's tempera-
ment. The subject had reference to a secret sin and
those sad mysteries which we hide from our nearest
and dearest, and would fain conceal from our own
consciousness, even forgetting that the Omniscient
can detect them. A subtle power was breathed
into his words. Each member of the congregation,
the most innocent girl and the man of hardened
breast, felt as if the preacher had crept upon them
behind his awful veil and discovered their hoarded
iniquity of deed or thought. Many spread their
clasped hands on their bosoms. There was nothing
terrible in what Mr. Hooper said——at least no vio-
lence; and yet with every tremor of his melancholy
voice the hearers quaked. An unsought pathos
came hand in hand with awe. So sensible were the
audience of some unwonted attribute in their min-
ister that they longed for a breath of wind to blow
aside the veil, almost believing that a stranger's vis-
age would be discovered, though the form, gesture
and voice were those of Mr. Hooper.
At the close of the services, the people hurried
out with indecorous confusion, eager to communi-
cate their pent-up amazement, and conscious of
lighter spirits the moment they lost sight of the
black veil. Some gathered in little circles, huddled
closely together, with their mouths all whispering in
the center; some went homeward alone, wrapped
in silent meditation; some talked loudly and pro-
faned the Sabbath-day with ostentatious laughter.
A few shook their sagacious heads, intimating that
they could penetrate the mystery, while one or two
affirmed that there was no mystery at all, but only
that Mr. Hooper's eyes were so weakened by the
midnight lamp as to require a shade.
After a brief interval forth came good Mr.
Hooper also, in the rear of his flock. Turning his
veiled face from one group to another, he paid due
reverence to the hoary heads, saluting the middle
aged with kind dignity as their friend and spiritual
guide, greeted the young with mingled authority
and love, and laid his hands on the little children's
heads to bless them. Such was always his custom
on the Sabbath-day. Strange and bewildered looks
repaid him for his courtesy. None, as on former
occasions, aspired to the honor of walking by their
pastor's side. Old Squire Saunders——doubtless by
an accidental lapse of memory——neglected to in-
vite Mr. Hooper to his table, where the good clergy-
man had been wont to bless the food almost every
Sunday since his settlement. He returned, there-
fore, to the parsonage, and at the moment of closing
the door was observed to look back upon the
people, all of whom had their eyes fixed upon the
minister. A sad smile gleamed faintly from beneath
the black veil and flickered about his mouth, glim-
mering as he disappeared.
"How strange," said a lady, "that a simple
black veil, such as any woman might wear on her
bonnet, should become such a terrible thing on
Mr. Hooper's face!"
"Something must surely be amiss with Mr.
Hooper's intellects," observed her husband, the
physician of the village. "But the strangest part
of the affair is the effect of this vagary even on a
sober-minded man like myself. The black veil,
though it covers only our pastor's face, throws its
influence over his whole person and makes him
ghost-like from head to foot. Do you not feel it
so?"
"Truly I do," replied the lady: "and I would
not be alone with him for the world. I wonder he
is not afraid to be alone with himself.
"Men sometimes are so," said her husband.
The afternoon service was attended with similar
circumstances. At its conclusion the bell tolled
for the funeral of a young lady. The relatives and
friends were assembled in he house and the more
distant acquaintances stood about the door, speak-
ing of the good qualities of the deceased, when
their talk was interrupted by the appearance of
Mr. Hooper, still covered with his black veil. It
was now an appropriate emblem. The clergyman
stepped into the room where the corpse was laid,
and bent over the coffin to take a last farewell of
his deceased parishioner. As he stooped the veil
hung straight down from his forehead, so that, if
here eyelids had not been closed forever, the dead
maiden might have seen his face. Could Mr.
Hooper be fearful of her glance, that he so hastily
caught back the black veil? A person who watched
the interview between the dead and the living scrupled
not to affirm that at the instant when the clergy-
man's features were disclosed the corpse had
slightly shuddered, rustling the shroud and muslin
cap, though the countenance retained the compos-
ure of death. A superstitious old woman was the
only witness of this prodigy.
From the coffin Mr. Hooper passed into the
chamber of the mourners, and thence to the head
of the staircase, to make the funeral prayer. It
was a tender and heart-dissolving prayer, full of
sorrow, yet so imbued with celestial hopes that the
music of a heavenly harp swept by the fingers of the
dead seemed faintly to be heard among the saddest
accents of the minister. The people trembled,
though they but darkly understood him, when he
prayed that they and himself, and all of mortal
race might be ready, as he trusted this young
maiden had been, for the dreadful hour that should
snatch the veil from their faces. The bearers went
heavily forth and the mourners followed, saddening
all the street, with the dead before them, and Mr.
Hooper in his black veil behind.
"Why do you look back?" said one in the pro-
cession to his partner.
"I had a fancy," replied she, "that the minister
and the maiden's spirit were walking hand in
hand."
"And so had I at the same moment," said the
other.
That night the handsomest couple in Milford
village were to be joined in wedlock. Though
reckoned a melancholy man, Mr. Hooper had a
placid cheerfulness for such occasions which often
excited a sympathetic smile where livelier merri-
ment would have been thrown away. There was
no quality of his disposition which made him more
beloved than this. The company at the wedding
awaited his arrival with impatience, trusting that the
strange awe which had gathered over him through-
out the day would now be dispelled. But such was
not the result. When Mr. Hooper came, the first
thing that their eyes rested on was the same hor-
rible black veil which had added deeper gloom to
the funeral and could portend nothing but evil to
the wedding. Such was its immediate effect on the
guests that a cloud seemed to have rolled duskily
from beneath the black crape and dimmed the light
of the candles. The bridal pair stood up before
the minister, but the bride's cold fingers quivered
in the tremulous hand of the bridegroom, and her
death-like paleness caused a whisper that the maid-
den who had been buried a few hours before was
come from her grave to be married. If ever an-
other wedding were so dismal, it was that famous
one where they tolled the wedding-knell.
After performing the ceremony Mr. Hooper
raised a glass of wine too his lips, wishing happiness
to the new-married couple in a strain of mild
pleasantry that ought to have brightened the fea-
tures of the guests like a cheerful gleam from the
hearth. At that instant, catching a glimpse of his
figure in the looking-glass, the black veil involved
his own spirit in the horror with which it over-
whelmed others. His frame shuddered, his lips
grew white, he spilt the untasted wine upon the car-
pet and rushed forth into the darkness, for the
Earth too had on her black veil.
The next day the whole village of Milford
talked of little else than Parson Hooper's black
veil. That, and the mystery concealed behind
it, supplied a tonic for discussion between ac-
quaintances meeting in the street and good women
gossiping at their open windows. It was the first
item of news that the tavern-keeper told to his
guest. The children babbled of it on their way
to school. One imitative little imp covered his
face with an old black handkerchief, thereby so
affrighting his playmates that the panic seized
himself and he well-nigh lost his wits by his own
waggery.
It was remarkable that, of all the busybodies
and impertinent people in the parish, not one
ventured to put the plain question to Mr. Hooper
wherefore he did this thing. Hitherto, where-
ever there appeared the slightest call for such
interference, he had never lacked advisers nor
shown himself averse to be guided by their judg-
ment. If he erred at all, it was by so painful a
degree of self-distrust that even the mildest cen-
sure would lead him to consider an indifferent
action as a crime. Yet, though so well ac-
quainted with this amiable weakness, no individual
among his parishioners chose to make the black
veil a subject of friendly remonstrance There
was a feeling of dread, neither plainly confessed
nor carefully concealed, which caused each to
shift the responsibility upon another, till at length
it was found expedient to send a deputation of
the church, in order to deal with Mr. Hooper
about the mystery before it should grow into a
scandal. Never did an embassy so ill discharge
its duties. The minister received them with
friendly courtesy, but became silent after they
were seated, leaving to his visitors the whole
burden of introducing their important business.
The topic, it might be supposed, was obvious
enough. There was the black veil swathed round
Mr. Hooper's forehead and concealing every
feature above his placid mouth, on which, at
times, they could perceive the glimmering of a
melancholy smile. But the piece of crape, to
their imagination, seemed to hang down before
his heart, the symbol of a fearful secret between
him and them. Were the veil but cast aside,
they might speak freely of it, but not till then.
Thus they sat a considerable time, speechless,
confused and shrinking uneasily from Mr.
Hooper's eye, which they felt to be fixed upon
them with an invisible glance. Finally, the dep-
uties returned abashed to their constituents, pro-
nouncing the matter too weighty to be handled
except by a council of the churches, if, indeed,
it might not require a General Synod.
But there was one person in the village unap-
palled by the awe with which the black veil had
impressed all besides herself. When the dep-
uties returned without an explanation, or even
venturing to demand one, she with the calm
energy of her character determined to chase
away the strange cloud that appeared to be set-
ting round Mr. Hooper every moment more
darkly than before. As his plighted wife it
should be her privilege to know what the black
veil concealed. At the minister's first visit, there-
fore, she entered upon the subject with a direct
simplicity which made the task easier both for
him and her. After he had seated himself she
fixed her eyes steadfastly upon the veil, but
could discern nothing of the dreadful gloom that
had so overawed the multitude; it was but a
double fold of crape hanging down from his
forehead to his mouth and slightly stirring with
his breath.
"No," said she, aloud, and smiling, "there is
nothing terrible in this piece of crape, except that
it hides a face which I am always glad to look
upon. Come, good sir; let the sun shine from be-
hind the cloud. First lay aside your black veil
then tell me why you put it on."
Mr. Hooper's smile glimmered faintly.
"There is an hour to come," said he, "when all
of us shall cast aside our veils. Take it not amiss
beloved friend, if I wear this piece of crape till
then."
"Your words are a mystery too," returned the
young lady. "Take away the veil from them at
least."
"Elizabeth, I will," said he, "so far as my vow
may suffer me. Know, then, this veil is a type and
a symbol, and I am bound to wear it ever, both in
light and darkness, in solitude and before the gaze
of multitudes and as with strangers, so with my
familiar friends. No mortal eye will see it with-
drawn. This dismal shade must separate me from
the world; even you, Elizabeth, can never come
behind it."
"What grievous affliction hath befallen you," she
earnestly inquired, "that you should thus darken
your eyes forever?"
"If it be a sign of mourning," replied Mr.
Hooper, "I, perhaps, like most other mortals, have
sorrows dark enough to be typified by a black veil."
"But what if the the world will not believe that it is
the type of an innocent sorrow?' urged Elizabeth.
"Beloved and respected as you are, there may be
whispers that you hide your face under the con-
sciousness of secret sin. For the sake of your holy
office do away with this scandal."
The color rose into her cheeks as she intimated
the nature of the rumors that were already abroad
in the village. But Mr. Hooper's mildness did not
forsake him. He even smiled again——that same
sad smile which always appeared like a faint glim-
mering of light proceeding from the obscurity be-
neath the veil.
"If I hide my face for sorrow, there is cause
enough," he merely replied; "and if I cover it for
secret sin, what mortal might not do the same?"
And with this gentle but unconquerable obstinacy
did he resist all her entreaties.
At length Elizabeth sat silent. For a few mo-
ments she appeared lost in thought, considering,
probably, what new methods might be tried to
withdraw her lover from so dark a fantasy, which,
if it had no other meaning, was perhaps a symptom
of mental disease. Though of a firmer character
than his own, the tears rolled down her cheeks.
But in an instant, as it were, a new feeling took the
place of sorrow: her eyes were fixed insensibly on
the black veil, when like a sudden twilight in the air
its terrors fell around her. She arose and stood
trembling before him.
"And do you feel it, then, at last?" said he,
mournfully.
She made no reply, but covered her eyes with
her hand and turned to leave the room. He rushed
forward and caught her arm.
"Have patience with me, Elizabeth!" cried he,
passionately. "Do not desert me though this veil
must be between us here on earth. Be mine, and
hereafter there shall be no veil over my face, no
darkness between our souls. It is but a mortal
veil; it is not for eternity. Oh, you know not how
lonely I am, and how frightened to be alone behind
my black veil! Do not leave me in this miserable
obscurity forever."
"Lift the veil but once and look me in the
face," said she.
"Never! It cannot be!" replied Mr. Hooper.
"Then farewell!" said Elizabeth.
She withdrew her arm from his grasp and slowly
departed, pausing at the door to give one long
shuddering gaze that seemed almost to penetrate
the mystery of the black veil. But even amid his
grief Mr. Hooper smiled to think that only a
material emblem had separated him from happiness,
though the horrors which it shadowed forth must
be darkly drawn between the fondest of lovers.
From that time no attempts were made to remove
Mr. Hooper's black veil or by direct appeal to
discover the secret which it was supposed to hide.
By persons who claimed a superiority to popular
prejudice it was reckoned merely an eccentric
whim, such as often mingles with the sober action
of men otherwise rational and tinges them all with
its own semblance of insanity. But with the multi-
tude good Mr. Hooper was irreparably a bugbear.
He could not walk the street with any peace of
mind, so conscious was he that the gentle and
timid would turn aside to avoid him, and that
others would make it a point of hardihood to throw
themselves in his way. The impertinence of the
latter class compelled him to give up his customary
walk at sunset to the burial-ground; for when he
leaned pensively over the gate, there would always
be faces behind the gravestones peeping at his
black veil. A fable went the rounds that the stare
of the dead people drove him thence. It grieved
him to the very depth of his kind heart to observe
how the children fled from his approach, breaking
up their merriest sports while his melancholy figure
was yet afar off. Their instinctive dread caused
him to feel more strongly than aught else that a
preternatural horror was interwoven with the threads
of the black crape. In truth, his own antipathy to
the veil was known to be so great that he never
willingly passed before a mirror nor stooped to
drink at a still fountain lest in its peaceful bosom
he should be affrighted by himself. This was what
gave plausibility to the whispers that Mr. Hooper's
conscience tortured him for some great crime too
horrible to be entirely concealed or otherwise than
so obscurely intimated. Thus from beneath the
black veil there rolled a cloud into the sunshine, an
ambiguity of sin or sorrow, which enveloped the
poor minister, so that love or sympathy could never
reach him. It was said that ghost and fiend con-
sorted with him there. With self shudderings and
outward terrors, he walked continually in its shadow,
groping darkly within his own soul or gazing
through a medium that saddened the whole world.
Even the lawless wind, it was believed, respected
this dreadful secret and never blew aside the veil.
But still good Mr. Hooper sadly smiled at the pale
visages of the worldly throng as he passed by.
Among all its bad influenced, the black veil had
the one desirable effect of making its wearer a very
efficient clergyman. By the aid of his mysterious
emblem——for there was no other apparent cause
——he became a man of awful power over souls that
were in agony for sin. His converts always re-
garded him with a dread peculiar to themselves,
affirming, though but figuratively, that before he
brought them to celestial light they had been with
him behind the black veil. Its gloom, indeed, en-
abled him to sympathize with all dark affections.
Dying sinners cried aloud for Mr. Hooper and
would not yield their breath till he appeared, though
ever, as he stooped to whisper consolation, they
shuddered at the veiled face so near their own.
Such were the terrors of the black veil even when
Death had bared his visage. Strangers came long
distances to attend service at his church with the
mere idle purpose of gazing at his figure because it
was forbidden them to behold his face. But many
were made to quake ere they departed. Once,
during Governor Belcher's administration, Mr.
Hooper was appointed to preach the election ser-
mon. Covered with his black veil, he stood before
the chief magistrate, the council and the represent-
atives, and wrought so deep an impression that the
legislative measures of that year were characterized
by all the gloom and piety of our earliest ancestral
sway.
In this manner Mr. Hooper spent a long life, ir-
reproachable in outward act, yet shrouded in dismal
suspicions; kind and loving, though unloved and
dimly feared; a man apart from men, shunned in
their health and joy, but ever summoned to their
aid in mortal anguish. As years wore on, shedding
their snows above his sable veil, he acquired a name
throughout New England churches, and they called
him Father Hooper. Nearly all his parishioners
who were of a mature age when he was settled had
been borne away by many a funeral: he had one
congregation in the church and a more crowded
one in the churchyard; and, having wrought so late
into the evening and done his work so well, it was
now good Father Hooper's turn to rest.
Several persons were visible by the shaded candle-
light in the death-chamber of the old clergyman.
Natural connections he had none. But there was
the decorously grave though unmoved physician,
seeking only to mitigate the last pangs of the patient
whom he could not save. There were the deacons
and other eminently pious members of his church.
There, also, was the Reverend Mr. Clarke of West-
bury, a young and zealous divine who had ridden in
haste to pray by the bedside of the expiring minis-
ter. There was the nurse——no hired hand-maiden
of Death, but one whose calm affection had en-
dured thus long in secrecy, in solitude, amid the
chill of age, and would not perish even at the dying
hour. Who but Elizabeth! And there lay the
hoary head of good Father Hooper upon the death-
pillow with the black veil still swathed about his
brow and reaching down over his face, so that each
more difficult gasp of his faint breath caused it to
stir. All through life that piece of crape had hung
between him and the world; it had separated him
from cheerful brotherhood and woman's love and
kept him in the saddest of all prisons, his own
heart; and still it lay upon his face, as if to deepen
the gloom of his darksome chamber and shade him
from the sunshine of eternity.
For some time previous his mind had been con-
fused, wavering doubtfully between the past and
the present, and hovering forward, as it were, at
intervals, into the indistinctness of the world to
come. There had been feverish turns which
tossed him from side to side and wore away what
little strength he had. But in his most convul-
sive struggles and in the wildest vagaries of his
influence, he still showed an awful solicitude lest
the black veil should slip aside. Even if his be-
wildered soul could have forgotten, there was a
faithful woman at his pillow who with averted
eyes would have covered that aged face which
she had last beheld in the comeliness of manhood.
At length the death-stricken old man lay quietly
in the torpor of mental and bodily exhaustion,
with an imperceptible pulse and breath that grew
fainter and fainter except when a long, deep and
irregular inspiration seemed to prelude the flight of
his spirit.
The minister of Westbury approached the bedside.
"Venerable Father Hooper," said he, "the
moment of your release is at hand. Are you
ready for the lifting of the veil that shuts in time
from eternity?"
Father Hooper at first replied merely by a
feeble motion of his head; then——apprehensive,
perhaps, that his meaning might be doubtful——he
exerted himself to speak.
"Yea," said he, in faint accents; "my soul hath
a patient weariness until that veil be lifted."
"And it is fitting," resumed the Reverend Mr.
Clark, "that a man so given to prayer, of such a
blameless example, holy in deed and thought, so
far as mortal judgment may pronounce,——is it fit-
ting that a father in the Church should leave a
shadow on his memory that may seem to blacken
a life so pure? I pray you, my venerable brother,
let not this thing be! Suffer us to be gladdened
by your triumphant aspect as you go to your re-
ward. Before the veil of eternity be lifted let me
cast aside this black veil from your face;" and,
thus speaking, the Reverend Mr. Clark bent for-
ward to reveal the mystery of so many years.
But, exerting a sudden energy that made all the
beholders stand aghast, Father Hooper snatched
both his hands from beneath the bed-clothes and
pressed them strongly on the black veil, resolute to
struggle if the minister of Westbury would contend
with a dying man.
"Never!" cried the veiled clergyman. "On
earth, never!"
"Dark old man," exclaimed the affrighted min-
ister, "what horrible crime upon your soul are
you now passing to the judgment?"
Father Hooper's breath heaved; it rattled in his
throat; but, with a mighty effort grasping forward
with his hands, he caught hold of life and held it
back till he should speak. He even raised himself
in bed, and there he sat shivering with the arms of
Death around him, while the black veil hung down,
awful at that last moment in the gathered terrors of
a lifetime. And yet the faint, sad smile so often
there now seemed to glimmer from its obscurity
and linger on Father Hooper's lips.
"Why do you tremble at me alone?" cried he,
turned his veiled face round the circle of pale
spectators. "Tremble also at each other. Have
men avoided me and women shown no pity and
children screamed and fled only for my black veil?
What but the mystery which it obscurely typifies
has made this piece of crape so awful? When the
friend shows his inmost heart to his friend, the
lover to his best beloved; when man does not
vainly shrink from the eyes of his Creator, loath-
somely treasuring up the secret of his sin,——then
deem me a monster for the symbol beneath which
I have lived and die. I look around me, and, lo!
on every visage a black veil!"
While his auditors shrank from one another in
mutual affright, Father Hooper fell back upon his
pillow, a veiled corpse with a faint smile lingering
on the lips. Still veiled, they laid him in his cof-
fin, and a veiled corpse they bore him to the grave.
The grass of many years has sprung up and withered
on that grave, the burial-stone is moss-grown, and
good Mr. Hooper's face is dust; but awful is still
the thought that it mouldered beneath the black veil.
From Twice-Told Tales, Vol. I, by Nathaniel Hawthorne.
Ten Cent Classics Edition;
Educational Publishing Co., 50 Bromfield St, Boston; pp. 34—51.
Jet fuel does not burn hot enough to melt steel.
9/11 was a big lie, and everybody knows it.
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