Litchfield enquirer., 1850-09-26
WHOLE No. 1272. No, 20.

DId you not start, said I, " for tic
 Celestial City 2"
 1" That's fact, said Mr. Take-it-easv.
 carelessly putting some smoke into my eyes. ' But heard such bad account. that never took pains to climb the hI' on which the city stands. No busines,= doing-no fun going on-nothing t. drink, and no smoking allowed-and ;s drumming of. ehurch>music from morn ing till night! would not stay in sucl. place, it they offered me house-roonr and living free.''
 But. my good Mr. Take-it-easy,'> 7 cried I, "why take up your residence here. of all places in the world ?''
 "Oh," said the loafer, with grin, "it IS very warm hereabouts, and I meet. with plenty of old acquaintances. anf altogether the place suits me. I hope to see you back again, some day soon- A pleasant journey to you P
 While he was speaking, the bell of the. engine rang, and we dashed away, after dropping few passengers. but receiving no new one. Rattling onward through the Valley, we were dazzled with the. tlercely gleaming gas lamps, as before. But sometimes, in the dark of intense brightness, grim faces, that bore the as- pect and expression of individual sins, or evil passion, seemed to thrust themselves through the veil of light, glaring upon us- and stretching forth great dusky hand as if to impede our progress. almost; thought that they were my own sins thai, appalled, me there. These were freaks of imagination nothing more, certainly. mere delusions. which ought to be heartily ashamed of--but all through the. Dark Valley, I was tormented, and pes : tered. and dolefully bewildered, with the same kind of waking dreams. The mep. hltic gases of that region intoxicate the brain. As the light of natural day.. however, began to struggle with the glow ot the lanterns, these vain imaginations lost their vividness, and finally vanished with the first ray of sunshine that erected. our escape from the Volley of the Shadow of Death. Ere we had gone a mile beyond it, l could we'll nigh have taken my oatI' that this whole gloomy passage, was dream.
 At the end of the Valley, as John Bunyan mentions, is a cavern, where in his days, dwelt two cruel giants. Pope. and Pagan, who had strewn the ground about their residence with the bones if slaughtured pilgrims. These vile old troglodytes are no longer there: but into their deserted cave another terrible. giant has himself, and makes it his bus:.-. ness to seize upon honest travellers, and tat them for his table with plentiful meals ot smoke, mist, moonshine, raw potatoes. and saw dust. He is German by birtIi: and is called Giant Transcendentalist. but as to form, his features, his substance. and nature generally, it is the chief. pecullarity of this huge miscreant, neither he for himself, nor anybody for him, has. ever been able to describe ihem. As we rushed by the cavern's mouth, we caught, a Easty glimpse of him. looking somewhat. like an i'll proportioned figure, but cons. slderably more like heap of fog and dusklness. He shouted after us, but in so strange phraseology, that we knew not what he meant, nor whether to be- encouraged or affrighted.
 It was late in the day, when the traiw lhundercd into the ancient city of Vanity, where Vanity Fair is still at the height of proPerily, and exhibits an epitome of what ever is brilliant, gay, and fascinating, be> nedth the sun. As purposed to make a considerable stay here, it gratiied me to learn that there is no longer the want oE harmony between the tnwnspeople and pil- gTims, which impelled the former to such lamentable mistaken measures as the pras> ecution of Christian, and the frey martyr dom of Faithful. On the contrary, as the new railroad brings with it great trade and. constant influx of strangers, the lord of Vanity Fair is it's chief patron and the caps '!alisss of the city are among the largest stockholders. Many passengers stop to. take. their pleasure or make their profit in the Fair instead Of going onward to the Celes- tial City. Indeed, snch are the charms of
 the place, that people often affirm 1t to be
 the true and only heaven; stoutly conlend>
 ing that is no other, that thvse who seek
 further are mere dreamers, and that, if the
 fabled brightness of the Celestial City lay
 but bare mile beyond the gates of Vanitys
 they would not be fools enough to go thither. Without subscribing to these. perhaps exA aggerated enconiums, eau truly say that
 my abode in the city was mainly agreeable
 and my intercourse with the inhabitants. productive of much amusement and inslruc. ton.
 Being naturally of a serious turn, my at tention was directed to the solid advantages derivable from residence here, rather than to the efervesccnt pleasures. whl1h arc the grand object with too many visitants. The Christian reader, if he has had no accounts of the city later than Bunyan's time will be surprised 10 hear that almost every stree;
 has its church. and that the reverend clergy
 are nowhere held in higher respect than at Vanity Fair. And well do they deserve
 such honorable estimation for the maxims of visions and virtue which fall from their lips, come from as deep spiritual source, aud tend to as lofty a religious aim, as
 those Of the sagest philosophers of oil. In