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    Other Tales and Sketches
    Other Tales and Sketches
    Other Tales and Sketches
    Ebook40 pages38 minutes

    Other Tales and Sketches

    By Nathaniel Hawthorne

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    Collection of three short stories: My Visit to Niagra, The Antique Ring, and Graves and Goblins.According to Wikipedia: "Nathaniel Hawthorne (born Nathaniel Hathorne; July 4, 1804 – May 19, 1864) was an American novelist and short story writer."
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSeltzer Books
    Release dateMar 1, 2018
    ISBN9781455428731
    Other Tales and Sketches
    Author

    Nathaniel Hawthorne

    Born in 1804, Nathaniel Hawthorne is known for his historical tales and novels about American colonial society. After publishing The Scarlet Letter in 1850, its status as an instant bestseller allowed him to earn a living as a novelist. Full of dark romanticism, psychological complexity, symbolism, and cautionary tales, his work is still popular today. He has earned a place in history as one of the most distinguished American writers of the nineteenth century.

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      Book preview

      Other Tales and Sketches - Nathaniel Hawthorne

      OTHER TALES AND SKETCHES BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

      From:  THE DOLIVER ROMANCE AND OTHER PIECES; TALES AND SKETCHES

      published by Samizdat Express, Orange, CT, USA

      established in 1974, offering over 14,000 books

      Other recommended collections of short stories by Nathaniel Hawthorne':

      From Mosses from an Old Manse

      The Great Stone Face and Other Tales

      From the Snow Image

      A Book of Autographs

      The Dolliver Romance

      Other Tales and Sketches

      Tanglewood Tales

      Twice-Told Tales

      feedback welcome: info@samizdat.com

      visit us at samizdat.com

      My Visit To Niagara

      The Antique Ring

      Graves And Goblins

      MY VISIT TO NIAGARA.

      Never did a pilgrim approach Niagara with deeper enthusiasm than mine. I had lingered away from it, and wandered to other scenes, because my treasury of anticipated enjoyments, comprising all the wonders of the world, had nothing else so magnificent, and I was loath to exchange the pleasures of hope for those of memory so soon.  At length the day came. The stage-coach, with a Frenchman and myself on the back seat, had already left Lewiston, and in less than an hour would set us down in Manchester.  I began to listen for the roar of the cataract, and trembled with a sensation like dread, as the moment drew nigh, when its voice of ages must roll, for the first time, on my ear.  The French gentleman stretched himself from the window, and expressed loud admiration, while, by a sudden impulse, I threw myself back and closed my eyes.  When the scene shut in, I was glad to think, that for me the whole burst of Niagara was yet in futurity.  We rolled on, and entered the village of Manchester, bordering on the falls.

      I am quite ashamed of myself here.  Not that I ran, like a madman to the falls, and plunged into the thickest of the spray,--never stopping to breathe, till breathing was impossible: not that I committed this, or any other suitable extravagance.  On the contrary, I alighted with perfect decency and composure, gave my cloak to the black waiter, pointed out my baggage, and inquired, not the nearest way to the cataract, but about the dinner-hour.  The interval was spent in arranging my dress.  Within the last fifteen minutes, my mind had grown strangely benumbed, and my spirits apathetic, with a slight depression, not decided enough to be termed sadness.  My enthusiasm was in a deathlike slumber.  Without aspiring to immortality, as he did, I could have imitated that English traveller, who turned back from the point where he first heard the thunder of Niagara, after crossing the ocean to behold it.  Many a Western trader, by the by, has performed a similar act of heroism with more heroic simplicity, deeming it no such wonderful feat to dine at the hotel and resume his route to Buffalo or Lewiston, while the cataract was roaring unseen.

      Such has often been my apathy, when objects, long sought, and earnestly desired, were placed within my reach.  After dinner--at which an unwonted and perverse epicurism detained me longer than usual--I lighted a cigar and paced the piazza, minutely attentive to the aspect

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