in his
mind; he designed it to be of a character more cheerful than the
foregoing ones. It was never written, and but the slightest traces of
what it might have been are extant. Herman Melville had spent a day
with us at Concord, and he had suggested a story to Hawthorne; but the
latter, after turning it over in his mind, came to the conclusion that
Melville could treat the subject better than he could; but Melville
finally relinquished it also. It seems likely, however, that this
projected tale was not the one which Hawthorne had originally been
meditating. At all events, it was postponed in favor of a new book of
wonder-stories from Greek mythology--the first one having had immediate
popularity, and by the time this was finished, the occasion had arrived
which led to the writing of Pierce's biography. This, in turn, was
followed by the offer by the President to his friend of the Liverpool
consulate, then the most lucrative appointment in the gift of the
administration; and Hawthorne's acceptance of it caused all literary
projects to be indefinitely abandoned.

But even had there been time for the writing of another book, the death
of Hawthorne's sister Louisa would doubtless have unfitted him for a
while from undertaking it. This was the most painful episode connected
with his life; Louisa was a passenger on a Hudson River steamboat which
was burned. She was a gentle, rather fragile woman, with a playful humor
and a lovable nature; she had not the intellectual force either of her
brother or of her sister Elizabeth; but her social inclinations were
stronger than theirs. She was a delightful person to have in the house,
and her nephew and niece were ardently in love with her. She was on her
way to "The Wayside" when the calamity occurred, and we were actually
expecting her on the day she perished. Standing on the blazing deck,
with the panic and the death-scenes around her, the gentle woman had to
make the terrible choice between the river and the fire. She was alone;
there was none to advise or help her or be her companion in inevitable
death. Her thoughts must have gone to her brother, with his strength and
courage, his skill as a swimmer; but he was far away, unconscious of her
desperate extremity. She had to choose, and the river was her choice.
With that tragic conception of the drowning of Zenobia fresh in his
mind, the realization of his sister's fate must have gained additional
poignancy in my father's imaginati