The Scarlet Letter

The ancient Surveyor--being little molested, I suppose, at that

early day with business pertaining to his office--seems to have

devoted some of his many leisure hours to researches as a local

antiquarian, and other inquisitions of a similar nature. These

supplied material for petty activity to a mind that would

otherwise have been eaten up with rust.

A portion of his facts, by-the-by, did me good service in the

preparation of the article entitled "MAIN STREET," included in

the present volume. The remainder may perhaps be applied to

purposes equally valuable hereafter, or not impossibly may be

worked up, so far as they go, into a regular history of Salem,

should my veneration for the natal soil ever impel me to so

pious a task. Meanwhile, they shall be at the command of any

gentleman, inclined and competent, to take the unprofitable

labour off my hands. As a final disposition I contemplate

depositing them with the Essex Historical Society. But the

object that most drew my attention to the mysterious package was

a certain affair of fine red cloth, much worn and faded, There

were traces about it of gold embroidery, which, however, was

greatly frayed and defaced, so that none, or very little, of the

glitter was left. It had been wrought, as was easy to perceive,

with wonderful skill of needlework; and the stitch (as I am

assured by ladies conversant with such mysteries) gives evidence

of a now forgotten art, not to be discovered even by the process

of picking out the threads. This rag of scarlet cloth--for time,

and wear, and a sacrilegious moth had reduced it to little other

than a rag--on careful examination, assumed the shape of a

letter.

It was the capital letter A. By an accurate measurement, each

limb proved to be precisely three inches and a quarter in

length. It had been intended, there could be no doubt, as an

ornamental article of dress; but how it was to be worn, or what

rank, honour, and dignity, in by-past times, were signified by

it, was a riddle which (so evanescent are the fashions of the

world in these particulars) I saw little hope of solving. And

yet it strangely interested me. My eyes fastened themselves upon

the old scarlet letter, and would not be turned aside. Certainly

there was some deep meaning in it most worthy of interpretation,

and which, as it were, streamed forth from the mystic symbol,

subtly communicating itself to my sensibilities, but evading the

analysis of my mind.

When thus perplexed--and cogitating, among other hypotheses,

whether the letter might not have been one of those decorations

which the white men used to contrive in order to take the eyes

of Indians--I happened to place it on my breast. It seemed to

me--the reader may smile, but must not doubt my word--it seemed

to me, then, that I experienced a sensation not altogether

physical, yet almost so, as of burning heat, and as if the

letter were not of red cloth, but red-hot iron. I shuddered,

and involuntarily let it fall upon the floor.