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The Minister’s Black Veil (1836) A Parable THE SEXTON stood in the porch of Milford meeting-house, pulling busily at the bell-rope. The old people of the village came stooping along the street. Children, with bright fa ces, tripped merrily beside their parents, or mimicked a graver gait, in the conscious digni- ty of their Sunday clothes. Spruce bachelors looked sidelong at the pretty maidens, and fancied that the Sabbath sunshi ne made them prettier than on week days. When the throng had mos tly 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 th e clergyman’s figure was the signal for the bell to cease its sum mons.

“But what has good Parson Hooper got upon his face?” cried th e sexton in astonishment.

All within hearing immediately turned about, and beheld the se m- blance of Mr. Hooper, pacing slowly his meditative way towards the meeting-house. With one accord they started, expres sing more won- der than if some strange minister were coming to du st the cushions of Mr. Hooper’s pulpit.

“Are you sure it is our parson?” inquired Goodman Gray of th e sexton.

“Of a certainty it is good Mr. Hooper,” replied the sexto n. “He was to have exchanged pulpits with Parson Shute, of Westbury; but Parson Shute sent to excuse himself yesterday, bein g to preach a fu- neral sermon.” The cause of so much amazement may appear sufficiently slight .

Mr. Hooper, a gentlemanly person, of about thirty, though still a ba- chelor, was dressed with due clerical neatness, as if a careful wife had starched his band, and brushed the weekly dust from his Sunday’s garb. There was but one thing remarkable in his app earance. Swathed THE MINISTER ’S BLACK VEIL 2 about his forehead, and hanging down over his face, so low as to be shaken by his breath, Mr. Hooper had on a black vei l. On a nearer view it seemed to consist of two folds of crape, wh ich entirely con- cealed his features, except the mouth and chin, but probably did not intercept his sight, further than to give a darkene d aspect to all living and inanimate things. With this gloomy shade before him, good Mr.

Hooper walked onward, at a slow and quiet pace, sto oping somewhat, and looking on the ground, as is customary with abs tracted men, yet nodding kindly to those of his parishioners who sti ll 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 int o the meeting-house. “He has changed himself into somethi ng 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 cong regation astir.

Few could refrain from twisting their heads towards the door; many stood upright, and turned directly about; while sev eral little boys clambered upon the seats, and came down again with a terrible racket.

There was a general bustle, a rustling of the women ’s gowns and shuf- fling of the men’s feet, greatly at variance with t hat hushed repose which should attend the entrance of the minister. B ut Mr. Hooper appeared not to notice the perturbation of his peop le. He entered with an almost noiseless step, bent his head mildly to t he pews on each side, and bowed as he passed his oldest parishioner, a wh ite-haired great- grandsire, who occupied an arm-chair in the centre of the aisle. It was strange to observe how slowly this venerable man be came conscious of something singular in the appearance of his pastor. He seemed not fully to partake of the prevailing wonder, till Mr. Hooper had as- cended the stairs, and showed himself in the pulpit , face to face with his congregation, except for the black veil. That m ysterious emblem was never once withdrawn. It shook with his measure d breath, as he gave out the psalm; it threw its obscurity between him and the holy 3 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE page, as he read the Scriptures; and while he praye d, the veil lay heavi- ly on his uplifted countenance. Did he seek to hide it from the 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 th e 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 preacher, but not an energetic one: he strove to win his people heavenwa rd by mild, persua- sive influences, rather than to drive them thither by the thunders of the Word. The sermon which he now delivered was mar ked by the same characteristics of style and manner as the gen eral series of his pulpit oratory. But there was something, either in the sentiment of the discourse itself, or in the imagination of the audi tors, which made it greatly the most powerful effort that they had ever heard from their pastor’s lips. It was tinged, rather more darkly th an usual, with the gentle gloom of Mr. Hooper’s temperament. The subje ct had refer- ence to secret sin, and those sad mysteries which w e hide from our nearest and dearest, and would fain conceal from ou r own conscious- ness, even forgetting that the Omniscient can detec t them. A subtle power was breathed into his words. Each member of t he congregation, the most innocent girl, and the man of hardened bre ast, felt as if the preacher had crept upon them, behind his awful veil , and discovered their hoarded iniquity of deed or thought. Many spr ead their clasped hands on their bosoms. There was nothing terrible i n what Mr. Hoo- per said, at least, no violence; and yet, with ever y tremor of his melan- choly voice, the hearers quaked. An unsought pathos came hand in hand with awe. So sensible were the audience of som e unwonted attribute in their minister, that they longed for a breath of wind to blow aside the veil, almost believing that a strang er’s visage would be discovered, though the form, gesture, and voice wer e those of Mr.

Hooper.

At the close of the services, the people hurried out with indecorous confusion, eager to communicate their pent-up amaze ment, and con- scious of lighter spirits the moment they lost sigh t of the black veil.

Some gathered in little circles, huddled closely to gether, with their mouths all whispering in the centre; some went home ward alone, THE MINISTER ’S BLACK VEIL 4 wrapt in silent meditation; some talked loudly, and profaned the Sab- bath day with ostentatious laughter. A few shook th eir sagacious heads, intimating that they could penetrate the mystery; w hile 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 r equire 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 t o another, he paid due reverence to the hoary heads, saluted the middl e aged with kind dignity as their friend and spiritual guide, greete d the young with min- gled authority and love, and laid his hands on the little children’s heads to bless them. Such was always his custom on the Sa bbath day. Strange and bewildered looks repaid him for his courtesy. N one, as on former occasions, aspired to the honor of walking by their pastor’s side. Old Squire Saunders, doubtless by an accidental lapse o f memory, neg- lected to invite Mr. Hooper to his table, where the good clergyman had been wont to bless the food, almost every Sunda y since his settle- ment. He returned, therefore, to the parsonage, and , at the moment of closing the door, was observed to look back upon th e 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, glimmering 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, ev en on a sober-minded man like myself. The black veil, though it covers o nly our pastor’s face, throws its influence over his whole person, and mak es him ghostlike from head to foot. Do you not feel it so?” “Truly do I,” replied the lady; “and I would not be alone wit h him for the world. I wonder he is not afraid to be alon e 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 rela- tives and friends were assembled in the house, and the more distant 5 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE acquaintances stood about the door, speaking of the good qualities of the deceased, when their talk was interrupted by th e appearance of Mr.

Hooper, still covered with his black veil. It was n ow an appropriate emblem. The clergyman stepped into the room where t he corpse was laid, and bent over the coffin, to take a last fare well of his deceased parishioner. As he stooped, the veil hung straight down from his fore- head, so that, if her eyelids had not been closed f orever, the dead mai- den might have seen his face. Could Mr. Hooper be f earful of her glance, that he so hastily caught back the black ve il? A person who watched the interview between the dead and living, scrupled not to affirm, that, at the instant when the clergyman’s f eatures were dis- closed, the corpse had slightly shuddered, rustling the shroud and muslin cap, though the countenance retained the com posure of death.

A superstitious old woman was the only witness of t his prodigy. From the coffin Mr. Hooper passed into the chamber of th e mourners, and thence to the head of the staircase, to make the fu neral 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 s addest 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 thei r faces. The bearers went heavily forth, and the mourners followed, sadd ening all the street, with the dead before them, and Mr. Hooper i n his black veil behind.

“Why do you look back?” said one in the procession to his p artner.

“I had a fancy,” replied she, “that the minister and the m aiden’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 merriment would ha ve been thrown away. There was no quality of his disposition which made him more beloved than this. The company at the wedding await ed his arrival with impatience, trusting that the strange awe, whi ch had gathered THE MINISTER ’S BLACK VEIL 6 over him throughout the day, would now be dispelled . But such was not the result. When Mr. Hooper came, the first thi ng that their eyes rested on was the same horrible black veil, which h ad added deeper gloom to the funeral, and could portend nothing but evil to the wed- ding. Such was its immediate effect on the guests t hat a cloud seemed to have rolled duskily from beneath the black crape , and dimmed the light of the candles. The bridal pair stood up befo re the minister. But the bride’s cold fingers quivered in the tremulous hand of the bride- groom, and her deathlike paleness caused a whisper that the maiden who had been buried a few hours before was come fro m her grave to be married. If ever another wedding were so dismal, it was that famous one where they tolled the wedding knell. After perf orming the cere- mony, Mr. Hooper raised a glass of wine to his lips , wishing happiness to the new-married couple in a strain of mild pleas antry that ought to have brightened the features of the guests, like a cheerful gleam from the hearth. At that instant, catching a glimpse of his figure in the look- ing-glass, the black veil involved his own spirit i n the horror with which it overwhelmed all others. His frame shuddere d, his lips grew white, he spilt the untasted wine upon the carpet, and rushed forth into the darkness. For the Earth, too, had on her B lack Veil.

The next day, the whole village of Milford talked of little else than Parson Hooper’s black veil. That, and the mystery c oncealed behind it, supplied a topic for discussion between acquain tances 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 guests. The children babbled of it on their way to school. One imitative little imp covered his face with an old black handkerchief, th ereby 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 impertine nt people in the parish, not one ventured to put the p lain question to Mr.

Hooper, wherefore he did this thing. Hitherto, when ever there ap- peared the slightest call for such interference, he had never lacked advisers, nor shown himself adverse to be guided by their judgment. If he erred at all, it was by so painful a degree of s elf-distrust, that even the mildest censure would lead him to consider an i ndifferent action as a crime. Yet, though so well acquainted with this a miable weakness, no 7 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE individual among his parishioners chose to make the black veil a sub- ject of friendly remonstrance. There was a feeling of dread, neither plainly confessed nor carefully concealed, which ca used 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 w ith Mr. Hooper about the mystery, before it should grow into a sca ndal. Never did an embassy so ill discharge its duties. The minister r eceived them with friendly courtesy, but became silent, after they we re 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 that piec e 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 t hey 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 deputies returned abashed to their con stituents, pronounc- ing the matter too weighty to be handled, except by a council of the churches, if, indeed, it might not require a genera l synod.

But there was one person in the village unappalled by the awe with which the black veil had impressed all beside herse lf. When the depu- ties returned without an explanation, or even ventu ring to demand one, she, with the calm energy of her character, de termined to chase away the strange cloud that appeared to be settling round Mr. Hooper, every moment more darkly than before. As his plight ed wife, it should be her privilege to know what the black veil concea led. At the minis- ter’s first visit, therefore, 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 ha d so overawed the multitude: it was but a double fold of crape, hangi ng down from his forehead to his mouth, and slightly stirring with h is 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 THE MINISTER ’S BLACK VEIL 8 look upon. Come, good sir, let the sun shine from b ehind the cloud.

First lay aside your black veil: then tell me why y ou put it on.” Mr. Hooper’s smile glimmered faintly.

“There is an hour to come,” said he, “when all of us shall ca st 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 b efore the gaze of multitudes, and as with strangers, so with my famil iar friends. No mortal eye will see it withdrawn. 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 in- quired, “that you should thus darken your eyes fore ver?” “If it be a sign of mourning,” replied Mr. Hooper, “I, per haps, like most other mortals, have sorrows dark enough to be typified by a black veil.” “But what if the world will not believe that it is the type o f an in- nocent sorrow?” urged Elizabeth. “Beloved and respe cted as you are, there may be whispers that you hide your face under the consciousness of secret sin. For the sake of your holy office, do away 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 glimmerin g of light, proceed- ing from the obscurity beneath 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 mo rtal might not do the same?” And with this gentle, but unconquerable obstinacy did he res ist all her entreaties. At length Elizabeth sat silent. For a few moments she appeared lost in thought, considering, probably, wh at new methods might be tried to withdraw her lover from so dark a fantasy, which, if 9 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE it had no other meaning, was perhaps a symptom of m ental disease.

Though of a firmer character than his own, the tear s rolled down her cheeks. But, in an instant, as it were, a new feeli ng 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 t urned 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 no t for eternity! O! you know not how lonely I am, and how frightened, to be alone behind my black veil. Do not leave me in this miserable obscu rity 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, paus- ing at the door, to give one long shuddering gaze, that seemed almost to penetrate the mystery of the black veil. But, ev en amid his grief, Mr.

Hooper smiled to think that only a material emblem had separated him from happiness, though the horrors, which it sh adowed forth, must be drawn darkly between the fondest of lovers. From that time no attempts were made to remove Mr. Hooper’s black veil, or, by a direct appeal, to discover the secret which it was supposed to hide. By persons who claimed a superior ity to popular prejudice, it was reckoned merely an eccentric whim , such as often mingles with the sober actions of men otherwise rat ional, and tinges them all with its own semblance of insanity. But wi th the multitude, 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 other s 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 cu stomary walk at sun- set to the burial ground; for when he leaned pensiv ely over the gate, THE MINISTER ’S BLACK VEIL 10 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 ye t afar off. Their instinctive dread caused him to feel more strongly than aught else, that a preternatural horror was interwoven with the thre ads 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 s hould be affrighted by himself. This was what gave plausibility to the whi spers, that Mr.

Hooper’s conscience tortured him for some great cri me too horrible to be entirely concealed, or otherwise than so obsc urely intimated.

Thus, from beneath the black veil, there rolled a c loud into the sun- shine, an ambiguity of sin or sorrow, which envelop ed the poor minis- ter, so that love or sympathy could never reach him . It was said that ghost and fiend consorted with him there. With self -shudderings and outward terrors, he walked continually in its shado w, groping darkly within his own soul, or gazing through a medium tha t saddened the whole world. Even the lawless wind, it was believed , respected his dreadful secret, and never blew aside the veil. But still good Mr. Hoo- per sadly smiled at the pale visages of the worldly throng as he passed by.

Among all its bad influences, the black veil had the one desi rable effect, of making its wearer a very efficient clerg yman. By the aid of his mysterious emblem–for there was no other apparent c ause–he be- came a man of awful power over souls that were in a gony for sin. His converts always regarded 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, enabled him to sympathize with all dark aff ections. Dying sinners cried aloud for Mr. Hooper, and would not y ield their breath till he appeared; though ever, as he stooped to whi sper consolation, they shuddered at the veiled face so near their own . Such were the terrors of the black veil, even when Death had bare d his visage! Stran- gers came long distances to attend service at his c hurch, with the mere idle purpose of gazing at his figure, because it wa s forbidden them to 11 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE behold his face. But many were made to quake ere th ey departed!

Once, during Governor Belcher’s administration, Mr. Hooper was appointed to preach the election sermon. Covered wi th his black veil, he stood before the chief magistrate, the council, and the representa- tives, and wrought so deep an impression that the l egislative measures of that year were characterized by all the gloom an d piety of our earli- est ancestral sway.

In this manner Mr. Hooper spent a long life, irreproachable in outward act, yet shrouded in dismal suspicions; kin d and loving, though unloved, and dimly feared; a man apart from men, shunned in their health and joy, but ever summoned to their ai d in mortal an- guish. As years wore on, shedding their snows above his sable veil, he acquired a name throughout the New England churches , and they called him Father Hooper. Nearly all his parishione rs, who were of mature age when he was settled, had been borne away by many a fu- neral: 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 Hoope r’s turn to rest.

Several persons were visible by the shaded candle-light, in the death chamber of the old clergyman. Natural connect ions he had none. But there was the decorously grave, though un moved physician, seeking only to mitigate the last pangs of the pati ent whom he could not save. There were the deacons, and other eminent ly pious members of his church. There, also, was the Reverend Mr. Cl ark, of Westbury, a young and zealous divine, who had ridden in haste to pray by the bedside of the expiring minister. There was the nur se, no hired hand- maiden of death, but one whose calm affection had e ndured thus long in secrecy, in solitude, amid the chill of age, and would not perish, even at the dying hour. Who, but Elizabeth! And the re lay the hoary head of good Father Hooper upon the death pillow, w ith the black veil still swathed about his brow, and reaching down ove r 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 t he world: it had separated him from cheerful brotherhood and woman’s love, and kept him in that saddest of all prisons, his own heart; and still it lay upon his face, as if to deepen the gloom of his darksome cha mber, and shade him from the sunshine of eternity. THE MINISTER ’S BLACK VEIL 12 For some time previous, his mind had been confused, wavering doubtfully between the past and the present, and ho vering forward, as it were, at intervals, into the indistinctness of t he world to come.

There had been feverish turns, which tossed him fro m side to side, and wore away what little strength he had. But in his m ost convulsive struggles, and in the wildest vagaries of his intel lect, when no other thought retained its sober influence, he still show ed an awful solicitude lest the black veil should slip aside. Even if his bewildered soul could have forgotten, there was a faithful woman at his p illow, who, with averted eyes, would have covered that aged face, wh ich 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 a nd 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 ve il 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 doubt- ful, he exerted himself to speak.

“Yea,” said he, in faint accents, “my soul hath a patient weari ness until that veil be lifted.” “And is it fitting,” resumed the Reverend Mr. Clark, “that a man so given to prayer, of such a blameless example, ho ly in deed and thought, so far as mortal judgment may pronounce; i s it fitting that a father in the church should leave a shadow on his m emory, that may seem to blacken a life so pure? I pray you, my vene rable brother, let not this thing be! Suffer us to be gladdened by you r triumphant aspect as you go to your reward. Before the veil of eterni ty be lifted, let me cast aside this black veil from your face!” And thus speaking, the Reverend Mr. Clark bent forward to re veal the mystery of so many years. But, exerting a sudde n energy, that made all the beholders stand aghast, Father Hooper snatched both his hands from beneath the bedclothes, and pressed them strongly on the 13 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE black veil, resolute to struggle, if the minister o f Westbury would con- tend with a dying man.

“Never!” cried the veiled clergyman. “On earth, never!” “Dark old man!” exclaimed the affrighted minister, “with what horrible crime upon your soul are you now passing t o 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 rais ed 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, turning his vei led face round the circle of pale spectators. “Tremble also at each other!

Have men avoided me, and women shown no pity, and c hildren screamed and fled, only for my black veil? What, bu t the mystery which it obscurely typifies, has made this piece of crape so awful?

When the friend shows his inmost heart to his frien d; the lover to his best beloved; when man does not vainly shrink from the eye of his Creator, loathsomely treasuring up the secret of hi s sin; then deem me a monster, for the symbol beneath which I have live d, and die! I look around me, and, lo! on every visage a Black Veil!” While his auditors shrank from one another, in mutual affrigh t, Father Hooper fell back upon his pillow, a veiled c orpse, with a faint smile lingering on the lips. Still veiled, they lai d him in his coffin, and a veiled corpse they bore him to the grave. The gra ss of many years has sprung up and withered on that grave, the buria l stone is moss- grown, and good Mr. Hooper’s face is dust; but awfu l is still the thought that it mouldered beneath the Black Veil!

NOTE. Another clergyman in New England, Mr. Joseph Moody, of York, Maine, who died about eighty years since, made himself re- markable by the same eccentricity that is here rela ted of the Reverend Mr. Hooper. In his case, however, the symbol had a different import.

In early life he had accidentally killed a beloved friend; and from that day till the hour of his own death, he hid his face from men.