on, had been vastly exaggerated, and that, in its present state
of improvement, I might consider myself as safe as on any railroad in
Christendom.

Even while we were speaking the train shot into the entrance of this
dreaded Valley. Though I plead guilty to some foolish palpitations of
the heart during our headlong rush over the causeway here constructed,
yet it were unjust to withhold the highest encomiums on the boldness of
its original conception and the ingenuity of those who executed it. It
was gratifying, likewise, to observe how much care had been taken to
dispel the everlasting gloom and supply the defect of cheerful
sunshine, not a ray of which has ever penetrated among these awful
shadows. For this purpose, the inflammable gas which exudes plentifully
from the soil is collected by means of pipes, and thence communicated
to a quadruple row of lamps along the whole extent of the passage. Thus
a radiance has been created even out of the fiery and sulphurous curse
that rests forever upon the valley--a radiance hurtful, however, to the
eyes, and somewhat bewildering, as I discovered by the changes which it
wrought in the visages of my companions. In this respect, as compared
with natural daylight, there is the same difference as between truth
and falsehood, but if the reader have ever travelled through the dark
Valley, he will have learned to be thankful for any light that he could
get--if not from the sky above, then from the blasted soil beneath.
Such was the red brilliancy of these lamps that they appeared to build
walls of fire on both sides of the track, between which we held our
course at lightning speed, while a reverberating thunder filled the
Valley with its echoes. Had the engine run off the track,--a
catastrophe, it is whispered, by no means unprecedented,--the
bottomless pit, if there be any such place, would undoubtedly have
received us. Just as some dismal fooleries of this nature had made my
heart quake there came a tremendous shriek, careering along the valley
as if a thousand devils had burst their lungs to utter it, but which
proved to be merely the whistle of the engine on arriving at a
stopping-place.

The spot where we had now paused is the same that our friend Bunyan--a
truthful man, but infected with many fantastic notions--has designated,
in terms plainer than I like to repeat, as the mouth of the infernal
region. This, however, must be a mistake, inasmuch as Mr.
Smooth-it-away, while we r