Buttheobjectthatmostdrewmyattention，inthemysteriouspackage，wasacertainaffairoffineredcloth，muchwornandfaded。Thereweretracesaboutitofgoldembroidery，which，however，wasgreatlyfrayedanddefaced；sothatnone，orverylittle，oftheglitterwasleft。Ithadbeenwrought，aswaseasytoperceive，withwonderfulskillofneedlework；andthestitch（asIamassuredbyladiesconversantwithsuchmysteries）—givesevidenceofanowforgottenart，nottoberecoveredevenbytheprocessofpickingoutthethreads。Thisragofscarletcloth—fortime，andwear，andasacrilegiousmoth，hadreducedittolittleotherthanarag—oncarefulexamination，assumedtheshapeofaletter。ItwasthecapitalletterA。Byanaccuratemeasurement，eachlimbprovedtobepreciselythreeinchesandaquarterinlength。Ithadbeenintended，therecouldbenodoubt，asanornamentalarticleofdress；buthowitwastobeworn，orwhatrank，honour，anddignity，inby—pasttimes，weresignifiedbyit，wasariddlewhich（soevanescentarethefashionsoftheworldintheseparticulars）Isawlittlehopeofsolving。Andyetitstrangelyinterestedme。Myeyesfastenedthemselvesupontheoldscarletletter，andwouldnotbeturnedaside。
Certainly，therewassomedeepmeaninginit，mostworthyofinterpretation，andwhich，asitwere，streamedforthfromthemysticsymbol，subtlycommunicatingitselftomysensibilities，butevadingtheanalysisofmymind。
Whilethusperplexed—andcogitating，amongotherhypotheses，whetherthelettermightnothavebeenoneofthosedecorationswhichthewhitemenusedtocontrive，inordertotaketheeyesofIndians—Ihappenedtoplaceitonmybreast。Itseemedtome—thereadermaysmile，butmustnotdoubtmyword—itseemedtome，then，thatIexperiencedasensationnotaltogetherphysical，yetalmostso，asofburningheat；andasiftheletterwerenotofredcloth，butred—hotiron。Ishuddered，andinvoluntarilyletitfalluponthefloor。
Intheabsorbingcontemplationofthescarletletter，Ihadhithertoneglectedtoexamineasmallrollofdingypaper，aroundwhichithadbeentwisted。ThisInowopened，andhadthesatisfactiontofind，recordedbytheoldSurveyor’spen，areasonablycompleteexplanationofthewholeaffair。Therewereseveralfoolscapsheets，containingmanyparticularsrespectingthelifeandconversationofoneHesterPrynne，whoappearedtohavebeenratheranoteworthypersonageintheviewofourancestors。ShehadflourishedduringtheperiodbetweentheearlydaysofMassachusettsandthecloseoftheseventeenthcentury。Agedpersons，aliveinthetimeofMr。
SurveyorPue，andfromwhoseoraltestimonyhehadmadeuphisnarrative，rememberedher，intheiryouth，asaveryold，butnotdecrepitwoman，ofastatelyandsolemnaspect。Ithadbeenherhabit，fromanalmostimmemorialdate，togoaboutthecountryasakindofvoluntarynurse，anddoingwhatevermiscellaneousgoodshemight；
takinguponherself，likewise，togiveadviceinallmatters，especiallythoseoftheheart；bywhichmeans，asapersonofsuchpropensitiesinevitablymust，shegainedfrommanypeoplethereverenceduetoanangel，but，Ishouldimagine，waslookeduponbyothersasanintruderandanuisance。Pryingfurtherintothemanuscript，Ifoundtherecordofotherdoingsandsufferingsofthissingularwoman，formostofwhichthereaderisreferredtothestoryentitled"THESCARLETLETTER"；anditshouldbebornecarefullyinmind，thatthemainfactsofthatstoryareauthorisedandauthenticatedbythedocumentofMrSurveyorPue。Theoriginalpapers，togetherwiththescarletletteritself—amostcuriousrelic—
arestillinmypossession，andshallbefreelyexhibitedtowhomsoever，inducedbythegreatinterestofthenarrative，maydesireasightofthem。Imustnotbeunderstoodasaffirming，that，inthedressingupofthetale，andimaginingthemotivesandmodesofpassionthatinfluencedthecharacterswhofigureinit，IhaveinvariablyconfinedmyselfwithinthelimitsoftheoldSurveyor’shalf—a—dozensheetsoffoolscap。Onthecontrary，Ihaveallowedmyself，astosuchpoints，nearlyoraltogetherasmuchlicenseasifthefactshadbeenentirelyofmyowninvention。WhatIcontendforistheauthenticityoftheoutline。
Thisincidentrecalledmymind，insomedegree，toitsoldtrack。
Thereseemedtobeherethegroundworkofatale。ItimpressedmeasiftheancientSurveyor，inhisgarbofahundredyearsgoneby，andwearinghisimmortalwig—whichwasburiedwithhim，butdidnotperishinthegrave—hadmetmeinthedesertedchamberoftheCustom—House。InhisportwasthedignityofonewhohadbornehisMajesty’scommission，andwhowasthereforeilluminatedbyarayofthesplendourthatshonesodazzlinglyaboutthethrone。Howunlike，alas！thehang—doglookofarepublicanofficial，who，astheservantofthepeople，feelshimselflessthantheleast，andbelowthelowestofhismasters。Withhisownghostlyhand，theobscurelyseenbutmajesticfigurehadimpartedtomethescarletsymbol，andthelittlerollofexplanatorymanuscript。Withhisownghostlyvoice，hehadexhortedme，onthesacredconsiderationofmyfilialdutyandreverencetowardshim—whomightreasonablyregardhimselfasmyofficialancestor—tobringhismouldyandmoth—eatenlucubrationsbeforethepublic。"Dothis，"saidtheghostofMr。SurveyorPue，emphaticallynoddingtheheadthatlookedsoimposingwithinitsmemorablewig，"dothis，andtheprofitshallbeallyourown！Youwillshortlyneedit；foritisnotinyourdaysasitwasinmine，whenaman’sofficewasalife—lease，andoftentimesanheirloom。But，Ichargeyou，inthismatterofoldMistressPrynne，givetoyourpredecessor’smemorythecreditwhichwillberightfullydue！"AndI
saidtotheghostofMr。SurveyorPue，"Iwill！"
OnHesterPrynne’sstory，therefore，Ibestowedmuchthought。Itwasthesubjectofmymeditationsformanyanhour，whilepacingtoandfroacrossmyroom，ortraversing，withahundred—foldrepetition，thelongextentfromthefront—dooroftheCustom—Housetotheside—entrance，andbackagain。GreatwerethewearinessandannoyanceoftheoldInspectorandtheWeighersandGaugers，whoseslumbersweredisturbedbytheunmercifullylengthenedtrampofmypassingandreturningfootsteps。Rememberingtheirownformerhabits，theyusedtosaythattheSurveyorwaswalkingthequarter—deck。Theyprobablyfanciedthatmysoleobject—and，indeed，thesoleobjectforwhichasanemancouldeverputhimselfintovoluntarymotion—was，togetanappetitefordinner。Andtosaythetruth，anappetite，sharpenedbytheeastwindthatgenerallyblewalongthepassage，wastheonlyvaluableresultofsomuchindefatigableexercise。SolittleadaptedistheatmosphereofaCustom—Housetothedelicateharvestoffancyandsensibility，that，hadIremainedtherethroughtenPresidenciesyettocome，Idoubtwhetherthetaleof"TheScarletLetter"wouldeverhavebeenbroughtbeforethepubliceye。Myimaginationwasatarnishedmirror。Itwouldnotreflect，oronlywithmiserabledimness，thefigureswithwhichIdidmybesttopeopleit。ThecharactersofthenarrativewouldnotbewarmedandrenderedmalleablebyanyheatthatIcouldkindleatmyintellectualforge。Theywouldtakeneithertheglowofpassionnorthetendernessofsentiment，butretainedalltherigidityofdeadcorpses，andstaredmeinthefacewithafixedandghastlygrinofcontemptuousdefiance。"Whathaveyoutodowithus？"thatexpressionseemedtosay。"Thelittlepoweryoumightoncehavepossessedoverthetribeofunrealitiesisgone！Youhavebartereditforapittanceofthepublicgold。Go，then，andearnyourwages！"Inshort，thealmosttorpidcreaturesofmyownfancytwittedmewithimbecility，andnotwithoutfairoccasion。
ItwasnotmerelyduringthethreehoursandahalfwhichUncleSamclaimedashisshareofmydailylife，thatthiswretchednumbnessheldpossessionofme。Itwentwithmeonmysea—shorewalks，andramblesintothecountry，whenever—whichwasseldomandreluctantly—IbestirredmyselftoseekthatinvigoratingcharmofNature，whichusedtogivemesuchfreshnessandactivityofthought，themomentthatIsteppedacrossthethresholdoftheOldManse。Thesametorpor，asregardedthecapacityforintellectualeffort，accompaniedmehome，andweigheduponmeinthechamberwhichImostabsurdlytermedmystudy。Nordiditquitme，when，lateatnight，Isatinthedesertedparlour，lightedonlybytheglimmeringcoal—fireandthemoon，strivingtopictureforthimaginaryscenes，which，thenextday，mightflowoutonthebrighteningpageinmany—hueddescription。
Iftheimaginativefacultyrefusedtoactatsuchanhour，itmightwellbedeemedahopelesscase。Moonlight，inafamiliarroom，fallingsowhiteuponthecarpet，andshowingallitsfiguressodistinctly—makingeveryobjectsominutelyvisible，yetsounlikeamorningornoontidevisibility—isamediumthemostsuitableforaromance—writertogetacquaintedwithhisillusiveguests。Thereisthelittledomesticsceneryofthewell—knownapartment；thechairs，witheachitsseparateindividuality；thecentre—table，sustainingaworkbasket，avolumeortwo，andanextinguishedlamp；thesofa；thebookcase；thepictureonthewall—allthesedetails，socompletelyseen，aresospiritualisedbytheunusuallight，thattheyseemtolosetheiractualsubstance，andbecomethingsofintellect。Nothingistoosmallortootriflingtoundergothischange，andacquiredignitythereby。Achild’sshoe；thedoll，seatedinherlittlewickercarriage；thehobby—horse—whatever，inaword，hasbeenusedorplayedwith，duringtheday，isnowinvestedwithaqualityofstrangenessandremoteness，thoughstillalmostasvividlypresentasbydaylight。Thus，therefore，thefloorofourfamiliarroomhasbecomeaneutralterritory，somewherebetweentherealworldandfairyland，wheretheActualandtheImaginarymaymeet，andeachimbueitselfwiththenatureoftheother。Ghostsmightenterherewithoutaffrightingus。Itwouldbetoomuchinkeepingwiththescenetoexcitesurprise，werewetolookaboutusanddiscoveraform，beloved，butgonehence，nowsittingquietlyinastreakofthismagicmoonshine，withanaspectthatwouldmakeusdoubtwhetherithadreturnedfromafar，orhadneveroncestirredfromourfireside。
Thesomewhatdimcoal—firehasanessentialinfluenceinproducingtheeffectwhichIwoulddescribe。Itthrowsitsunobtrusivetingethroughouttheroom，withafaintruddinessuponthewallsandceiling，andareflectedgleamfromthepolishofthefurniture。
Thiswarmerlightminglesitselfwiththecoldspiritualityofthemoonbeams，andcommunicates，asitwere，aheartandsensibilitiesofhumantendernesstotheformswhichfancysummonsup。Itconvertsthemfromsnow—imagesintomenandwomen。Glancingatthelooking—glass，webehold—deepwithinitshauntedverge—thesmoulderingglowofthehalf—extinguishedanthracite，thewhitemoonbeamsonthefloor，andarepetitionofallthegleamandshadowofthepicture，withoneremovefartherfromtheactual，andnearertotheimaginative。Then，atsuchanhour，andwiththisscenebeforehim，ifaman，sittingallalone，cannotdreamstrangethings，andmakethemlookliketruth，heneednevertrytowriteromances。
But，formyself，duringthewholeofmyCustom—Houseexperience，moonlightandsunshine，andtheglowoffirelight，werejustalikeinmyregard；andneitherofthemwasofonewhitmoreavailthanthetwinkleofatallow—candle。Anentireclassofsusceptibilities，andagiftconnectedwiththem—ofnogreatrichnessorvalue，butthebestIhad—wasgonefromme。
Itismybelief，however，that，hadIattemptedadifferentorderofcomposition，myfacultieswouldnothavebeenfoundsopointlessandinefficacious。Imight，forinstance，havecontentedmyselfwithwritingoutthenarrativesofaveteranshipmaster，oneoftheInspectors，whomIshouldbemostungratefulnottomention，sincescarcelyadaypassedthathedidnotstirmetolaughterandadmirationbyhismarvellousgiftsasastory—teller。CouldIhavepreservedthepicturesqueforceofhisstyle，andthehumorouscolouringwhichnaturetaughthimhowtothrowoverhisdescriptions，theresult，Ihonestlybelieve，wouldhavebeensomethingnewinliterature。OrImightreadilyhavefoundamoreserioustask。Itwasafolly，withthematerialityofthisdailylifepressingsointrusivelyuponme，toattempttoflingmyselfbackintoanotherage；ortoinsistoncreatingthesemblanceofaworldoutofairymatter，when，ateverymoment，theimpalpablebeautyofmysoap—bubblewasbrokenbytherudecontactofsomeactualcircumstance。Thewisereffortwouldhavebeen，todiffusethoughtandimaginationthroughtheopaquesubstanceofto—day，andthustomakeitabrighttransparency；tospiritualisetheburdenthatbegantoweighsoheavily；toseek，resolutely，thetrueandindestructiblevaluethatlayhiddeninthepettyandwearisomeincidents，andordinarycharacters，withwhichIwasnowconversant。Thefaultwasmine。Thepageoflifethatwasspreadoutbeforemeseemeddullandcommonplace，onlybecauseIhadnotfathomeditsdeeperimport。A
betterbookthanIshalleverwritewasthere；leafafterleafpresentingitselftome，justasitwaswrittenoutbytherealityoftheflittinghour，andvanishingasfastaswritten，onlybecausemybrainwantedtheinsightandmyhandthecunningtotranscribeit。Atsomefutureday，itmaybe，Ishallrememberafewscatteredfragmentsandbrokenparagraphs，andwritethemdown，andfindthelettersturntogolduponthepage。
Theseperceptionshavecometoolate。Attheinstant，Iwasonlyconsciousthatwhatwouldhavebeenapleasureoncewasnowahopelesstoil。Therewasnooccasiontomakemuchmoanaboutthisstateofaffairs。Ihadceasedtobeawriteroftolerablypoortalesandessays，andhadbecomeatolerablygoodSurveyoroftheCustoms。
Thatwasall。But，nevertheless，itisanythingbutagreeabletobehauntedbyasuspicionthatone’sintellectisdwindlingaway；orexhaling，withoutyourconsciousness，likeetheroutofaphial；sothat，ateveryglance，youfindasmallerandlessvolatileresiduum。Ofthefacttherecouldbenodoubt；and，examiningmyselfandothers，Iwasledtoconclusions，inreferencetotheeffectofpublicofficeonthecharacter，notveryfavourabletothemodeoflifeinquestion。Insomeotherform，perhaps，Imayhereafterdeveloptheseeffects。Sufficeitheretosay，thataCustom—Houseofficer，oflongcontinuance，canhardlybeaverypraiseworthyorrespectablepersonage，formanyreasons；oneofthem，thetenurebywhichheholdshissituation，andanother，theverynatureofhisbusiness，which—
though，Itrust，anhonestone—isofsuchasortthathedoesnotshareintheunitedeffortofmankind。
Aneffect—whichIbelievetobeobservable，moreorless，ineveryindividualwhohasoccupiedtheposition—is，that，whileheleansonthemightyarmoftheRepublic，hisownproperstrengthdepartsfromhim。Heloses，inanextentproportionedtotheweaknessorforceofhisoriginalnature，thecapabilityofself—support。Ifhepossessanunusualshareofnativeenergy，ortheenervatingmagicofplacedonotoperatetoolonguponhim，hisforfeitedpowersmayberedeemable。Theejectedofficer—fortunateintheunkindlyshovethatsendshimforthbetimes，tostruggleamidastrugglingworld—mayreturntohimself，andbecomeallthathehaseverbeen。Butthisseldomhappens。Heusuallykeepshisgroundjustlongenoughforhisownruin，andisthenthrustout，withsinewsallunstrung，tototteralongthedifficultfootpathoflifeashebestmay。Consciousofhisowninfirmity—thathistemperedsteelandelasticityarelost—heforeverafterwardslookswistfullyabouthiminquestofsupportexternaltohimself。Hispervadingandcontinualhope—ahallucination，which，inthefaceofalldiscouragement，andmakinglightofimpossibilities，hauntshimwhilehelives，and，Ifancy，liketheconvulsivethroesofthecholera，tormentshimforabriefspaceafterdeath—is，thatfinally，andinnolongtime，bysomehappycoincidenceofcircumstances，heshallberestoredtooffice。Thisfaith，morethananythingelse，stealsthepithandavailabilityoutofwhateverenterprisehemaydreamofundertaking。Whyshouldhetoilandmoil，andbeatsomuchtroubletopickhimselfupoutofthemud，when，inalittlewhilehence，thestrongarmofhisUnclewillraiseandsupporthim？Whyshouldheworkforhislivinghere，orgotodiggoldinCalifornia，whenheissosoontobemadehappy，atmonthlyintervals，withalittlepileofglitteringcoinoutofhisUncle’spocket？Itissadlycurioustoobservehowslightatasteofofficesufficestoinfectapoorfellowwiththissingulardisease。UncleSam’sgold—
meaningnodisrespecttotheworthyoldgentleman—has，inthisrespect，aqualityofenchantmentlikethatoftheDevil’swages。
Whoevertouchesitshouldlookwelltohimself，orhemayfindthebargaintogohardagainsthim，involving，ifnothissoul，yetmanyofitsbetterattributes；itssturdyforce，itscourageandconstancy，itstruth，itsself—reliance，andallthatgivestheemphasistomanlycharacter。
Herewasafineprospectinthedistance！NotthattheSurveyorbroughtthelessonhometohimself，oradmittedthathecouldbesoutterlyundone，eitherbycontinuanceinoffice，orejectment。Yetmyreflectionswerenotthemostcomfortable。Ibegantogrowmelancholyandrestless；continuallypryingintomymind，todiscoverwhichofitspoorpropertiesweregone，andwhatdegreeofdetrimenthadalreadyaccruedtotheremainder。IendeavouredtocalculatehowmuchlongerIcouldstayintheCustom—House，andyetgoforthaman。Toconfessthetruth，itwasmygreatestapprehension—asitwouldneverbeameasureofpolicytoturnoutsoquietanindividualasmyself，anditbeinghardlyinthenatureofapublicofficertoresign—itwasmychieftrouble，therefore，thatIwaslikelytogrowgreyanddecrepitintheSurveyorship，andbecomemuchsuchanotheranimalastheoldInspector。Mightitnot，inthetediouslapseofofficiallifethatlaybeforeme，finallybewithmeasitwaswiththisvenerablefriend—tomakethedinner—hourthenucleusoftheday，andtospendtherestofit，asanolddogspendsit，asleepinthesunshineorintheshade？Adrearylookforwardthis，foramanwhofeltittobethebestdefinitionofhappinesstolivethroughoutthewholerangeofhisfacultiesandsensibilities！But，allthiswhile，Iwasgivingmyselfveryunnecessaryalarm。ProvidencehadmeditatedbetterthingsformethanIcouldpossiblyimagineformyself。
AremarkableeventofthethirdyearofmySurveyorship—toadoptthetoneof"P。P。"—wastheelectionofGeneralTaylortothePresidency。Itisessential，inordertoacompleteestimateoftheadvantagesofofficiallife，toviewtheincumbentattheincomingofahostileadministration。Hispositionisthenoneofthemostsingularlyirksome，and，ineverycontingency，disagreeable，thatawretchedmortalcanpossiblyoccupy；withseldomanalternativeofgood，oneitherhand，althoughwhatpresentsitselftohimastheworsteventmayveryprobablybethebest。Butitisastrangeexperience，toamanofprideandsensibility，toknowthathisinterestsarewithinthecontrolofindividualswhoneitherlovenorunderstandhim，andbywhom，sinceoneortheothermustneedshappen，hewouldratherbeinjuredthanobliged。Strange，too，foronewhohaskepthiscalmnessthroughoutthecontest，toobservethebloodthirstinessthatisdevelopedinthehouroftriumph，andtobeconsciousthatheishimselfamongitsobjects！Therearefewugliertraitsofhumannaturethanthistendency—whichInowwitnessedinmennoworsethantheirneighbours—togrowcruel，merelybecausetheypossessedthepowerofinflictingharm。Iftheguillotine，asappliedtooffice—holders，werealiteralfact，insteadofoneofthemostaptofmetaphors，itismysincerebelief，thattheactivemembersofthevictoriouspartyweresufficientlyexcitedtohavechoppedoffallourheads，andhavethankedHeavenfortheopportunity！Itappearstome—whohavebeenacalmandcuriousobserver，aswellinvictoryasdefeat—thatthisfierceandbitterspiritofmaliceandrevengehasneverdistinguishedthemanytriumphsofmyownpartyasitnowdidthatoftheWhigs。TheDemocratstaketheoffices，asageneralrule，becausetheyneedthem，andbecausethepracticeofmanyyearshasmadeitthelawofpoliticalwarfare，which，unlessadifferentsystembeproclaimed，itwereweaknessandcowardicetomurmurat。Butthelonghabitofvictoryhasmadethemgenerous。Theyknowhowtospare，whentheyseeoccasion；andwhentheystrike，theaxemaybesharp，indeed，butitsedgeisseldompoisonedwithill—will；norisittheircustomignominouslytokicktheheadwhichtheyhavejuststruckoff。
Inshort，unpleasantaswasmypredicament，atbest，IsawmuchreasontocongratulatemyselfthatIwasonthelosingside，ratherthanthetriumphantone。if，heretofore，Ihadbeennoneofthewarmestofpartisans，Ibegannow，atthisseasonofperilandadversity，tobeprettyacutelysensiblewithwhichpartymypredilectionslay；norwasitwithoutsomethinglikeregretandshame，that，accordingtoareasonablecalculationofchances，IsawmyownprospectofretainingofficetobebetterthanthoseofmyDemocraticbrethren。Butwhocanseeaninchintofuturity，beyondhisnose？Myheadwasthefirstthatfell！
Themomentwhenaman’sheaddropsoffisseldomornever，Iaminclinedtothink，preciselythemostagreeableofhislife。
Nevertheless，likethegreaterpartofourmisfortunes，evensoseriousacontingencybringsitsremedyandconsolationwithit，ifthesuffererwillbutmakethebest，ratherthantheworst，oftheaccidentwhichhasbefallenhim。Inmyparticularcase，theconsolatorytopicswerecloseathand，and，indeed，hadsuggestedthemselvestomymeditationsaconsiderabletimebeforeitwasrequisitetousethem。Inviewofmypreviouswearinessofoffice，andvaguethoughtsofresignation，myfortunesomewhatresembledthatofapersonwhoshouldentertainanideaofcommittingsuicide，and，althoughbeyondhishopes，meetwiththegoodhaptobemurdered。IntheCustom—House，asbeforeintheOldManse，Ihadspentthreeyears；
atermlongenoughtorestawearybrain；longenoughtobreakoffoldintellectualhabits，andmakeroomfornewones；longenough，andtoolong，tohavelivedinanunnaturalstate，doingwhatwasreallyofnoadvantagenordelighttoanyhumanbeing，andwithholdingmyselffromtoilthatwould，atleast，havestilledanunquietimpulseinme。
Then，moreover，asregardedhisunceremoniousejectment，thelateSurveyorwasnotaltogetherill—pleasedtoberecognisedbytheWhigsasanenemy；sincehisinactivityinpoliticalaffairs—histendencytoroam，atwill，inthatbroadandquietfieldwhereallmankindmaymeet，ratherthanconfinehimselftothosenarrowpathswherebrethrenofthesamehouseholdmustdivergefromoneanother—
hadsometimesmadeitquestionablewithhisbrotherDemocratswhetherhewasafriend。Now，afterhehadwonthecrownofmartyrdom（thoughwithnolongeraheadtoweariton），thepointmightbelookeduponassettled。Finally，littleheroicashewas，itseemedmoredecoroustobeoverthrowninthedownfallofthepartywithwhichhehadbeencontenttostand，thantoremainaforlornsurvivor，whensomanyworthiermenwerefalling；and，atlast，aftersubsistingforfouryearsonthemercyofahostileadministration，tobecompelledthentodefinehispositionanew，andclaimtheyetmorehumiliatingmercyofafriendlyone。
Meanwhilethepresshadtakenupmyaffair，andkeptme，foraweekortwo，careeringthroughthepublicprints，inmydecapitatedstate，likeIrving’sHeadlessHorseman；ghastlyandgrim，andlongingtobeburied，asapoliticallydeadmanought。Somuchformyfigurativeself。Therealhumanbeing，allthistime，withhisheadsafelyonhisshoulders，hadbroughthimselftothecomfortableconclusionthateverythingwasforthebest；and，makinganinvestmentinink，paper，andsteel—pens，hadopenedhislong—disusedwriting—desk，andwasagainaliteraryman。
Nowitwasthatthelucubrationsofmyancientpredecessor，Mr。
SurveyorPue，cameintoplay。Rustythroughlongidleness，somelittlespacewasrequisitebeforemyintellectualmachinerycouldbebroughttoworkuponthetale，withaneffectinanydegreesatisfactory。Evenyet，thoughmythoughtswereultimatelymuchabsorbedinthetask，itwears，tomyeye，asternandsombreaspect；toomuchungladdenedbygenialsunshine；toolittlerelievedbythetenderandfamiliarinfluenceswhichsoftenalmosteverysceneofnatureandreallife，and，undoubtedly，shouldsofteneverypictureofthem。Thisuncaptivatingeffectisperhapsduetotheperiodofhardlyaccomplishedrevolution，andstillseethingturmoil，inwhichthestoryshapeditself。Itisnoindication，however，ofalackofcheerfulnessinthewriter’smind；forhewashappier，whilestrayingthroughthegloomofthesesunlessfantasies，thanatanytimesincehehadquittedtheOldManse。Someofthebrieferarticles，whichcontributetomakeupthevolume，havelikewisebeenwrittensincemyinvoluntarywithdrawalfromthetoilsandhonoursofpubliclife，andtheremainderaregleanedfromannualsandmagazines，ofsuchantiquedatethattheyhavegoneroundthecircle，andcomebacktonoveltyagain。Keepingupthemetaphorofthepoliticalguillotine，thewholemaybeconsideredasthePOSTHUMOUSPAPERSOFADECAPITATEDSURVEYOR；andthesketchwhichIamnowbringingtoaclose，iftooautobiographicalforamodestpersontopublishinhislife—time，willreadilybeexcusedinagentlemanwhowritesfrombeyondthegrave。Peacebewithalltheworld！Myblessingonmyfriends！Myforgivenesstomyenemies！ForIamintherealmofquiet！
ThelifeoftheCustom—Houselieslikeadreambehindme。TheoldInspector—who，by—the—bye，Iregrettosay，wasoverthrownandkilledbyahorse，sometimeago；elsehewouldcertainlyhavelivedforever—
he，andallthoseothervenerablepersonageswhosatwithhimatthereceiptofcustom，arebutshadowsinmyview；white—headedandwrinkledimages，whichmyfancyusedtosportwith，andhasnowflungasideforever。Themerchants—Pingree，Phillips，Shepard，Upton，Kimball，Bertram，Hunt—these，andmanyothernames，whichhadsuchaclassicfamiliarityformyearsixmonthsago—thesemenoftraffic，whoseemedtooccupysoimportantapositionintheworld—howlittletimehasitrequiredtodisconnectmefromthemall，notmerelyinact，butrecollection！ItiswithaneffortthatIrecallthefiguresandappellationsofthesefew。Soon，likewise，myoldnativetownwillloomuponmethroughthehazeofmemory，amistbroodingoverandaroundit；asifitwerenoportionoftherealearth，butanovergrownvillageincloudland，withonlyimaginaryinhabitantstopeopleitswoodenhouses，andwalkitshomelylanes；andtheunpicturesqueprolixityofitsmainstreet。Henceforth，itceasestobearealityofmylife，Iamacitizenofsomewhereelse。Mygoodtownspeoplewillnotmuchregretme；for—thoughithasbeenasdearanobjectasany，inmyliteraryefforts，tobeofsomeimportanceintheireyes，andtowinmyselfapleasantmemoryinthisabodeandburial—placeofsomanyofmyforefathers—therehasneverbeen，forme，thegeneralatmospherewhichaliterarymanrequires，inordertoripenthebestharvestofhismind。Ishalldobetteramongstotherfaces；andthesefamiliarones，itneedhardlybesaid，willdojustaswellwithoutme。
Itmaybe，however—oh，transportingandtriumphantthought！—thatthegreat—grandchildrenofthepresentracemaysometimesthinkkindlyofthescribblerofbygonedays，whentheantiquaryofdaystocome，amongthesitesmemorableinthetown’shistory，shallpointoutthelocalityofTHETOWNPUMP！
I。