I
am merely a sojourner here in Vanity Fair, being bound to the
Celestial City by the new railroad."
"Alas, friend," rejoined Mr. Stick-to-the-right, "I do assure
you, and beseech you to receive the truth of my words, that that whole
concern is a bubble. You may travel on it all your lifetime, were
you to live thousands of years, and yet never get beyond the limits of
Vanity Fair! Yea; though you should deem yourself entering the gates
of the Blessed City, it will be nothing but a miserable delusion."
"The Lord of the Celestial City," began the other pilgrim, whose
name was Mr. Foot-it-to-Heaven, "has refused, and will ever refuse, to
grant an act of incorporation for this railroad; and unless that be
obtained, no passenger can ever hope to enter his dominions.
Wherefore, every man, who buys a ticket, must lay his account with
losing the purchase-money- which is the value of his own soul."
"Poh, nonsense!" said Mr. Smooth-it-away, taking my arm and leading
me off, "these fellows ought to be indicted for a libel. If the law
stood as it once did in Vanity Fair, we should see them grinning
through the iron bars of the prison window."
This incident made a considerable impression on my mind, and
contributed with other circumstances to indispose me to a permanent
residence in the city of Vanity; although, of course, I was not simple
enough to give up my original plan of gliding along easily and
commodiously by railroad.
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