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    The Village Uncle (From "Twice Told Tales")
    The Village Uncle (From "Twice Told Tales")
    The Village Uncle (From "Twice Told Tales")
    Ebook32 pages27 minutes

    The Village Uncle (From "Twice Told Tales")

    By Nathaniel Hawthorne

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 25, 2013
    The Village Uncle (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

      The Village Uncle (From "Twice Told Tales") - Nathaniel Hawthorne

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Village Uncle (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: The Village Uncle (From Twice Told Tales)

      Author: Nathaniel Hawthorne

      Posting Date: December 2, 2010 [EBook #9210] Release Date: November, 2005 First Posted: August 23, 2003 Last Updated: February 5, 2007

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VILLAGE UNCLE ***

      Produced by David Widger. HTML version by Al Haines.

      TWICE TOLD TALES

      THE VILLAGE UNCLE

      AN IMAGINARY RETROSPECT

      By Nathaniel Hawthorne

      Come! another log upon the hearth. True, our little parlor is comfortable, especially here, where the old man sits in his old arm-chair; but on Thanksgiving night the blaze should dance high up the chimney, and send a shower of sparks into the outer darkness. Toss on an armful of those dry oak chips, the last relics of the Mermaid's knee-timbers, the bones of your namesake, Susan. Higher yet, and clearer be the blaze, till our cottage windows glow the ruddiest in the village, and the light of our household mirth flash far across the bay to Nahant. And now, come, Susan, come, my children, draw your chairs round me, all of you. There is a dimness over your figures! You sit quivering indistinctly with each motion of the blaze, which eddies about you like a flood, so that you all have the look of visions, or people that dwell only in the fire light, and will vanish from existence, as completely as your own shadows, when the flame shall sink among the embers. Hark! let me listen for the swell of the surf; it should be audible a mile inland, on a night like this. Yes; there I catch the sound, but only an uncertain murmur, as if a good way down over the beach; though, by the almanac, it is high tide at eight o'clock, and the billows must now be dashing within thirty yards of our door. Ah! the old man's ears are failing him; and so is his eyesight, and perhaps his mind; else you would

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