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The Scarlet Letter

By NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE Condensation by GEORGE S. BARTON ONE summer morning over two centuries ago the grass-plot before the jail in Prison Lane was occupied by many of the inhabitants of Boston. The door opened and the town beadle appeared, followed by a young woman carrying a baby about three months old. On the breast of her gown, in red cloth, appeared the letter A, and it was that scarlet letter which drew all eyes toward her. The place appointed for her punishment was not far from the prison door, and in spite of the agony of her heart, Hester Prynne passed with almost a serene deportment to the scaffold where the pillory was set up, and under the weight of a thousand unrelenting eyes the unhappy prisoner sustained herself as best a woman might.