His first design was to make “The Scarlet Letter” occupy about two hundred pages in his new book; but I persuaded him, after reading the first chapters of the story, to elaborate it, and publish it as a separate work.  After it was settled that “The Scarlet Letter” should be enlarged and printed by itself in a volume he wrote to me:—­

“I am truly glad that you like the Introduction, for I was rather afraid that it might appear absurd and impertinent to be talking about myself, when nobody, that I know of, has requested any information on that subject.

“As regards the size of the book, I have been thinking a good deal about it.  Considered merely as a matter of taste and beauty, the form of publication which you recommend seems to me much preferable to that of the ‘Mosses.’

“In the present case, however, I have some doubts of the expediency, because, if the book is made up entirely of ‘The Scarlet Letter,’ it will be too sombre.  I found it impossible to relieve the shadows of the story with so much light as I would gladly have thrown in.  Keeping so close to its point as the tale does, and no otherwise than by turning different sides of the same to the reader’s eye, it will weary very many people and disgust some.  Is it safe, then, to stake the fate of the book entirely on this one chance?  A hunter loads his gun with a bullet and several buckshot; and, following his sagacious example, it was my purpose to conjoin the one long story with half a dozen shorter ones, so that, failing to kill the public outright with my biggest and heaviest lump of lead, I might have other chances with the smaller bits, individually and in the aggregate.  However, I am willing to leave these considerations to your judgment, and should not be sorry to have you decide for the separate publication.

“In this latter event it appears to me that the only proper title for the book would be ‘The Scarlet Letter,’ for ‘The Custom-House’ is merely introductory,—­an entrance-hall to the magnificent edifice which I throw open to my guests.  It would be funny if, seeing the further passages so dark and dismal, they should all choose to stop there!  If ‘The Scarlet Letter’ is to be the title, would it not be well to print it on the title-page in red ink?  I am not quite sure about the good taste of so doing, but it would certainly be piquant and appropriate, and, I think, attractive to the great gull whom we are endeavoring to circumvent.”

One beautiful summer day, twenty years ago, I found Hawthorne in his little red cottage at Lenox, surrounded by his happy young family.  He had the look, as somebody said, of a banished lord, and his grand figure among the hills of Berkshire seemed finer than ever.  His boy and girl were swinging on the gate as we drove up to his door, and with their sunny curls formed an attractive feature in the landscape.  As the afternoon was cool and delightful, we proposed a drive