The Scarlet Letter

Cluster all these individuals together, as they sometimes were,

with other miscellaneous ones to diversify the group, and, for

the time being, it made the Custom-House a stirring scene. More

frequently, however, on ascending the steps, you would discern--

in the entry if it were summer time, or in their appropriate

rooms if wintry or inclement weathers--a row of venerable

figures, sitting in old-fashioned chairs, which were tipped on

their hind legs back against the wall. Oftentimes they were

asleep, but occasionally might be heard talking together, in

voices between a speech and a snore, and with that lack of

energy that distinguishes the occupants of alms-houses, and all

other human beings who depend for subsistence on charity, on

monopolized labour, or anything else but their own independent

exertions. These old gentlemen--seated, like Matthew at the

receipt of custom, but not very liable to be summoned thence,

like him, for apostolic errands--were Custom-House officers.

Furthermore, on the left hand as you enter the front door, is a

certain room or office, about fifteen feet square, and of a

lofty height, with two of its arched windows commanding a view

of the aforesaid dilapidated wharf, and the third looking across

a narrow lane, and along a portion of Derby Street. All three

give glimpses of the shops of grocers, block-makers,

slop-sellers, and ship-chandlers, around the doors of which are

generally to be seen, laughing and gossiping, clusters of old

salts, and such other wharf-rats as haunt the Wapping of a

seaport. The room itself is cobwebbed, and dingy with old paint;

its floor is strewn with grey sand, in a fashion that has

elsewhere fallen into long disuse; and it is easy to conclude,

from the general slovenliness of the place, that this is a

sanctuary into which womankind, with her tools of magic, the

broom and mop, has very infrequent access. In the way of

furniture, there is a stove with a voluminous funnel; an old

pine desk with a three-legged stool beside it; two or three

wooden-bottom chairs, exceedingly decrepit and infirm; and--not

to forget the library--on some shelves, a score or two of

volumes of the Acts of Congress, and a bulky Digest of the

Revenue laws. A tin pipe ascends through the ceiling, and forms

a medium of vocal communication with other parts of the edifice.

And here, some six months ago--pacing from corner to corner, or

lounging on the long-legged stool, with his elbow on the desk,

and his eyes wandering up and down the columns of the morning

newspaper--you might have recognised, honoured reader, the same

individual who welcomed you into his cheery little study, where

the sunshine glimmered so pleasantly through the willow branches

on the western side of the Old Manse. But now, should you go

thither to seek him, you would inquire in vain for the Locofoco

Surveyor. The besom of reform hath swept him out of office, and

a worthier successor wears his dignity and pockets his

emoluments.