actually a Pyncheon (or Pynchon, as he spells it) family resident in
Salem, and that their representative, at the period of the
Revolution, was a certain Judge Pynchon, a Tory and a refugee. This
was Mr. ----'s grandfather, and (at least, so he dutifully describes
him) the most exemplary old gentleman in the world. There are
several touches in my account of the Pyncheons which, he says, make
it probable that I had this actual family in my eye, and he
considers himself infinitely wronged and aggrieved, and thinks it
monstrous that the 'virtuous dead' cannot be suffered to rest
quietly in their graves. He further complains that I speak
disrespectfully of the ----'s in Grandfather's Chair. He writes more
in sorrow than in anger, though there is quite enough of the latter
quality to give piquancy to his epistle. The joke of the matter is,
that I never heard of his grandfather, nor knew that any Pyncheons
had ever lived in Salem, but took the name because it suited the
tone of my book, and was as much my property, for fictitious
purposes, as that of Smith. I have pacified him by a very polite and
gentlemanly letter, and if ever you publish any more of the Seven
Gables, I should like to write a brief preface, expressive of my
anguish for this unintentional wrong, and making the best reparation
possible else these wretched old Pyncheons will have no peace in the
other world, nor in this. Furthermore, there is a Rev. Mr. ----,
resident within four miles of me, and a cousin of Mr. ----, who
states that he likewise is highly indignant. Who would have dreamed
of claimants starting up for such an inheritance as the House of the
Seven Gables!

"I mean, to write, within six weeks or two months next ensuing, a
book of stories made up of classical myths. The subjects are: The
Story of Midas, with his Golden Touch, Pandora's Box, The Adventure
of Hercules in quest of the Golden Apples, Bellerophon and the
Chimera, Baucis and Philemon, Perseus and Medusa; these, I think,
will be enough to make up a volume. As a framework, I shall have a
young college student telling these stories to his cousins and
brothers and sisters, during his vacations, sometimes at the
fireside, sometimes in the woods and dells. Unless I greatly
mistake, these old fictions will work up admirably for the purpose;
and I sha