whole is an absurdity, from beginning to end; but the fact is, in
writing a romance, a man is always, or always ought to be, careering
on the utmost verge of a precipitous absurdity, and the skill lies
in coming as close as possible, without actually tumbling over. My
prevailing idea is, that the book ought to succeed better than 'The
Scarlet Letter,' though I have no idea that it will."

On the 9th of December he was still at work on the new romance, and
writes:--

"My desire and prayer is to get through with the business in hand. I
have been in a Slough of Despond for some days past, having written
so fiercely that I came to a stand-still. There are points where a
writer gets bewildered and cannot form any judgment of what he has
done, or tell what to do next. In these cases it is best to keep
quiet."

On the 12th of January, 1851, he is still busy over his new book, and
writes: "My 'House of the Seven Gables' is, so to speak, finished; only
I am hammering away a little on the roof, and doing up a few odd jobs,
that were left incomplete." At the end of the month the manuscript of
his second great romance was put into the hands of the expressman at
Lenox, by Hawthorne himself, to be delivered to me. On the 27th he
writes:--

"If you do not soon receive it, you may conclude that it has
miscarried; in which case, I shall not consent to the universe
existing a moment longer. I have no copy of it, except the wildest
scribble of a first draught, so that it could never be restored.