dear Sir, we must take pains to make you strong and vigorous
for this occasion of the Election discourse. The people look for great
things from you; apprehending that another year may come about, and
find their pastor gone."

"Yea, to another world," replied the minister, with pious resignation.
"Heaven grant it be a better one; for, in good sooth, I hardly think
to tarry with my flock through the flitting seasons of another year!
But, touching your medicine, kind Sir, in my present frame of body, I
need it not."

"I joy to hear it," answered the physician. "It may be that my
remedies, so long administered in vain, begin now to take due effect.
Happy man were I, and well deserving of New England's gratitude, could
I achieve this cure!"

"I thank you from my heart, most watchful friend," said the Reverend
Mr. Dimmesdale, with a solemn smile. "I thank you, and can but requite
your good deeds with my prayers."

"A good man's prayers are golden recompense!" rejoined old Roger
Chillingworth, as he took his leave. "Yea, they are the current gold
coin of the New Jerusalem, with the King's own mint-mark on them!"

Left alone, the minister summoned a servant of the house, and
requested food, which, being set before him, he ate with ravenous
appetite. Then, flinging the already written pages of the Election
Sermon into the fire, he forthwith began another, which he wrote with
such an impulsive flow of thought and emotion, that he fancied himself
inspired; and only wondered that Heaven should see fit to transmit the
grand and solemn music of its oracles through so foul an organ-pipe as
he. However, leaving that mystery to solve itself, or go unsolved
forever, he drove his task onward, with earnest haste and ecstasy.
Thus the night fled away, as if it were a winged steed, and he
careering on it; morning came, and peeped, blushing, through the
curtains; and at last sunrise threw a golden beam into the study and
laid it right across the minister's bedazzled eyes. There he was, with
the pen still between his fingers, and a vast, immeasurable tract of
written space behind him!

[Illustration]

XXI.

THE NEW ENGLAND HOLIDAY.

Betimes in the morning of the day on which the new Governor was to
receive his office at the hands of the people, Hester Prynne and
little Pearl came into the market-place. It was already thronged with
the craft