； my fortune somewhat resembled that of aperson who should entertain an idea of mitting suicide； and；although beyond his hopes； meet with the good hap to be murdered。 Inthe Custom…House； as before in the Old Manse； I had spent three years；a term long enough to rest a weary brain； long enough to break off oldintellectual habits； and make room for new ones； long enough； andtoo long； to have lived in an unnatural state； doing what was reallyof no advantage nor delight to any human being； and withholding myselffrom toil that would； at least； have stilled an unquiet impulse in me。Then； moreover； as regarded his unceremonious ejectment； the lateSurveyor was not altogether ill…pleased to be recognised by theWhigs as an enemy； since his inactivity in political affairs… histendency to roam； at will； in that broad and quiet field where allmankind may meet； rather than confine himself to those narrow pathswhere brethren of the same household must diverge from one another…had sometimes made it questionable with his brother Democratswhether he was a friend。 Now； after he had won the crown ofmartyrdom （though with no longer a head to wear it on）； the pointmight be looked upon as settled。 Finally； little heroic as he was；it seemed more decorous to be overthrown in the downfall of theparty with which he had been content to stand； than to remain aforlorn survivor； when so many worthier men were falling； and； atlast； after subsisting for four years on the mercy of a hostileadministration； to be pelled then to define his position anew；and claim the yet more humiliating mercy of a friendly one。 Meanwhile the press had taken up my affair； and kept me； for aweek or two； careering through the public prints； in my decapitatedstate； like Irving's Headless Horseman； ghastly and grim； andlonging to be buried； as a politically dead man ought。 So much formy figurative self。 The real human being； all this time； with his headsafely on his shoulders； had brought himself to the fortableconclusion that everything was for the best； and； making an investmentin ink； paper； and steel…pens； had opened his long…disusedwriting…desk； and was again a literary man。 Now it was that the lucubrations of my ancient predecessor； Mr。Surveyor Pue； came into play。 Rusty through long idleness； some littlespace y intellectual machinery could bebrought to work upon the tale； with an effect in any degreesatisfactory。 Even yet； though my thoughts were ultimately muchabsorbed in the task； it wears； to my eye； a stern and sombreaspect； too much ungladdened by genial sunshine； too little relievedby the tender and familiar influences which soften almost everyscene of nature and real life； and； undoubtedly； should soften everypicture of them。 This uncaptivating effect is perhaps due to theperiod of hardly acplished revolution； and still seethingturmoil； in which the story shaped itself。 It is no indication；however； of a lack of cheerfulness in the writer's mind； for he washappier； while straying through the gloom of these sunlessfantasies； than at any time since he had quitted the Old Manse。 Someof the briefer articles； which contribute to make up the volume；have likewise been written since my involuntary withdrawal from thetoils and honours of public life； and the remainder are gleaned fromannuals and magazines； of such antique date that they have goneround the circle； and e back to novelty again。 Keeping up themetaphor of the political guillotine； the whole may be considered asthe POSTHUMOUS PAPERS OF A DECAPITATED SURVEYOR； and the sketchwhich I am now bringing to a close； if too autobiographical for amodest person to publish in his life…time； will readily be excusedin a gentleman who writes from beyond the grave。 Peace be with all theworld！ My blessing on my friends！ My forgiveness to my enemies！ ForI am in the realm of quiet！ The life of the Custom…House lies like a dream behind me。 The oldInspector… who； by…the…bye； I regret to say； was overthrown and killedby a horse； some time ago； else he would certainly have lived forever…he； and all those other venerable personages who sat with him at thereceipt of custom； are but shadows in my view； white…headed andwrinkled images； which my fancy used to sport with； and has nowflung aside forever。 The merchants… Pingree； Phillips； Shepard； Upton；Kimball； Bertram； Hunt… these； and many other names； which had sucha classic familiarity for my ear six months ago… these men of traffic；who seemed to occupy so important a position in the world… howlittle time has it required to disconnect me from them all； not merelyin act； but recollection！ It is with an effort that I recall thefigures and appellations of these few。 Soon； likewise； my old nativetown will loom upon me through the haze of memory； a mist broodingover and around it； as if it were no portion of the real earth； but anovergrown village in cloudland； with only imaginary inhabitants topeople its wooden houses； and walk its homely lanes； and theunpicturesque prolixity of its main street。 Henceforth； it ceases tobe a reality of my life； I am a citizen of somewhere else。 My goodtownspeople will not much regret me； for… though it has been as dearan object as any； in my literary efforts； to be of some importancein their eyes； and to win myself a pleasant memory in this abode andburial…place of so many of my forefathers… there has never been； forme； the general atmosphere which a literary man requires； in orderto ripen the best harvest of his mind。 I shall do better amongst otherfaces； and these familiar ones； it need hardly be said； will do justas well without me。 It may be； however… oh； transporting and triumphant thought！… thatthe great…grandchildren of the present race may sometimes think kindlyof the scribbler of bygone days； e；among the sites memorable in the town's history； shall point out thelocality of THE TOWN PUMP！
I。 THE PRISON…DOOR。 A THRONG of bearded men； in sad…coloured garments； and grey；steeple…crowned hats； intermixed with women； some wearing hoods； andothers bareheaded； was assembled in front of a wooden edifice； thedoor of which was heavily timbered with oak； and studded with ironspikes。 The founders of a new colony； whatever Utopia of human virtue andhappiness they might originally project； have invariably recognised itamong their earliest practical necessities to allot a portion of thevirgin soil as a cemetery； and another portion as the site of aprison。 In accordance with this rule； it may safely be assumed thatthe forefathers of Boston had built the first prison…house somewherein the vicinity of Cornhill； almost as seasonably as they marked outthe first burial…ground； on Isaac Johnson's lot； and round about hisgrave； e the nucleus of all the congregatedsepulchres in the old churchyard of King's Chapel。 Certain it is that；some fifteen or twenty years after the settlement of the town； thewooden jail was already marked with weather…stains and otherindications of age； which gave a yet darker aspect to itsbeetle…browed and gloomy front。 The rust on the ponderous iron…work ofits oaken door looked more antique than anything else in the NewWorld。 Like all that pertains to crime； it seemed never to haveknown a youthful era。 Before this ugly edifice； and between it and thewheel…track of the street； was a grass…plot； much overgrown withburdock； pig…weed； apple…peru； and such unsightly vegetation； whichevidently found something congenial in the soil that had so earlyborne the black flower of civilised society； a prison。 But； on oneside of the portal； and rooted almost at the threshold； was a wildrose…bush； covered； in this month of June； with its delicate gems；which might be imagined to offer their fragrance and fragile beauty tothe prisoner as he went in； and to the condemned criminal as he cameforth to his doom； in token that the deep heart of Nature could pityand be kind to him。 This rose…bush； by a strange chance； has been kept alive in history；but whether it had merely survived out of the stern old wilderness； solong after the fall of the gigantic pines and oaks that originallyovershadowed it… or whether； as there is fair authority for believing；it had sprung up under the footsteps of the sainted Ann Hutchinson； asshe entered the prison…door… we shall not take upon us to determine。Finding it so directly on the threshold of our narrative； which is nowabout to issue from that inauspicious portal； we could hardly dootherwise than pluck one of its flowers； and present it to the reader。It may serve； let us hope； to symbolise some sweet moral blossom； thatmay be found along the track； or relieve the darkening close of a taleof human frailty and sorrow。 II。 THE MARKET…PLACE。 THE grass…plot before the jail； in Prison Lane； on a certainsummer morning； not less than two centuries ago； was occupied by apretty large number of the inhabitants of Boston； all with theireyes intently fastened on the iron…clamped oaken door。 Amongst anyother population； or at a later period in the history of NewEngland； the grim rigidity that petrified the bearded physiognomies ofthese good people would have augured some awful business in hand。 Itcould have betokened nothing short of the anticipated execution ofsome noted culprit； on whom the sentence of a legal tribunal had butconfirmed the verdict of public sentiment。 But； in that early severityof the Puritan character； an inference of this kind could not soindubitably be drawn。 It might be； that a sluggish bond…servant； or anundutiful child； whom his parents had given over to the civilauthority； was to be corrected at the whipping…post。 It might be； thatan Antinomian； a Quaker； or other heterodox religionist； was to bescourged out of the town； or an idle and vagrant Indian； whom thewhite man's fire…water had made riotous about the streets； was to bedriven with stripes into the shadow of the forest。 It might be； too；that a witch； like old Mistress Hibbins； the bitter…tempered widowof the magistrate； was to die upon the gallows。 In either case；there was very much the same solemnity of demeanour on the part of thespectators； as befitted a people amongst whom religion and law werealmost identical； and in whose character both were so thoroughlyinterfused； that the mildest and the severest acts of publicdiscipline were alike made venerable and awful。 Meagre； indeed； andcold； was the sympathy that a transgressor might look for； from suchbystanders； at the scaffold。 On the other hand； a penalty which； inour days； would infer a degree of mocking infamy and ridicule； mightthen be invested with almost as stern a dignity as the punishment ofdeath itself。 It was a circumstance to be noted； on the summer morning when ourstory begins its course； that the women； of whom there were several inthe crowd； appeared to take a peculiar interest in whatever penalinfliction might be expected to ensue。 The age had not so muchrefinement； that any sense of impropriety restrained the wearers ofpetticoat and farthingale from stepping forth into the public ways；and wedging their not unsubstantial persons； if occasion were； intothe throng nearest to the scaffold at an execution。 Morally； as wellas materially； there was a coarser fibre in those wives and maidens ofold English birth and breeding； than in their fair descendants；separated from them by a s