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    Footprints on the Sea-Shore (From "Twice Told Tales")
    Footprints on the Sea-Shore (From "Twice Told Tales")
    Footprints on the Sea-Shore (From "Twice Told Tales")
    Ebook30 pages25 minutes

    Footprints on the Sea-Shore (From "Twice Told Tales")

    By Nathaniel Hawthorne

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 15, 2013
    Footprints on the Sea-Shore (From "Twice Told Tales")
    Author

    Nathaniel Hawthorne

    Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864) was an American writer whose work was aligned with the Romantic movement. Much of his output, primarily set in New England, was based on his anti-puritan views. He is a highly regarded writer of short stories, yet his best-known works are his novels, including The Scarlet Letter (1850), The House of Seven Gables (1851), and The Marble Faun (1860). Much of his work features complex and strong female characters and offers deep psychological insights into human morality and social constraints.

    Read more from Nathaniel Hawthorne

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      Book preview

      Footprints on the Sea-Shore (From "Twice Told Tales") - Nathaniel Hawthorne

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Footprints on the Sea-Shore (From Twice Told Tales), by Nathaniel Hawthorne

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: Footprints on the Sea-Shore (From Twice Told Tales)

      Author: Nathaniel Hawthorne

      Posting Date: December 2, 2010 [EBook #9218] Release Date: November, 2005 First Posted: August 23, 2003 Last Updated: February 5, 2007

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOOTPRINTS ON THE SEA-SHORE ***

      Produced by David Widger. HTML version by Al Haines.

      TWICE TOLD TALES

      FOOTPRINTS ON THE SEA-SHORE

      By Nathaniel Hawthorne

      It must be a spirit much unlike my own, which can keep itself in health and vigor without sometimes stealing from the sultry sunshine of the world, to plunge into the cool bath of solitude. At intervals, and not infrequent ones, the forest and the ocean summon me—one with the roar of its waves, the other with the murmur of its boughs—forth from the haunts of men. But I must wander many a mile, ere I could stand beneath the shadow of even one primeval tree, much less be lost among the multitude of hoary trunks, and hidden from earth and sky by the mystery of darksome foliage. Nothing is within my daily reach more like a forest than the acre or two of woodland near some suburban farm-house. When, therefore, the yearning for seclusion becomes a necessity within me, I am drawn to the sea-shore, which extends its line of rude rocks and seldom-trodden sands, for leagues around our bay. Setting forth at my last ramble, on a September morning, I bound myself with a hermit's vow, to interchange no thoughts with man or woman, to share no social pleasure, but to derive all that day's enjoyment from shore, and sea, and sky,—from my soul's communion with these, and from fantasies, and recollections, or anticipated realities. Surely here is enough to feed a human spirit for a

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