of Despond for some days past, having written
so fiercely that I came to a stand-still. There are points where a
writer gets bewildered and cannot form any judgment of what he has
done, or tell what to do next. In these cases it is best to keep
quiet."

On the 12th of January, 1851, he is still busy over his new book, and
writes: "My 'House of the Seven Gables' is, so to speak, finished; only
I am hammering away a little on the roof, and doing up a few odd jobs,
that were left incomplete." At the end of the month the manuscript of
his second great romance was put into the hands of the expressman at
Lenox, by Hawthorne himself, to be delivered to me. On the 27th he
writes:--

"If you do not soon receive it, you may conclude that it has
miscarried; in which case, I shall not consent to the universe
existing a moment longer. I have no copy of it, except the wildest
scribble of a first draught, so that it could never be restored.

"It has met with extraordinary success from that portion of the
public to whose judgment it has been submitted, viz. from my wife. I
likewise prefer it to 'The Scarlet Letter'; but an author's opinion
of his book just after completing it is worth little or nothing, he
being then in the hot or cold fit of a fever, and certain to rate it
too high or too low.

"It has undoubtedly one disadvantage in being brought so close to
the present time; whereby its romantic improbabilities become more
glaring.

"I deem it indispensable that the proof-sheets should be sent me for
correction. It will cause some delay, no doubt, but probably not
much more than if I lived in Salem. At all events, I don't see how
it can be helped. My autography is sometimes villanously blind; and
it is odd enough that whenever the printers do mistake a word, it is
just the very jewel of a word, worth all the rest of the
dictionary."

I well remember with what anxiety I awaited the arrival of the
expressman with the precious parcel, and with what keen delight I read
every word of the new story before I slept. Here is the original
manuscript, just as it came that day, twenty years ago, fresh from the
author's hand. The printers carefully preserved it for me; and Hawthorne
once made a formal presentation of it, with great mock solemnity, in
this very room where I am now sitting.

After the book came out he wrote:--

"I have b