From “The Ambitious Guest” by Nathaniel Hawthorne 1 One September night, a family had gathered round their hearth, and piled it
high with the driftwood of mountain streams, the dry cones of the pine, and
the splintered ruins of great trees that had come crashing down the precipice.
Up the chimney roared the fire, and brightened the room with its broad blaze.
The faces of the father and mother had a sober gladness; the children
laughed; the eldest daughter was the image of Happiness at seventeen; and
the aged grandmother, who sat knitting in the warmest place, was the image
of Happiness grown old. They had found the “herb, heart’s ease,” in the
bleakest spot of all New England. This family were situated in the Notch of
the White Hills, where the wind was sharp throughout the year, and pitilessly
cold in the winter,—giving their cottage all its fresh inclemency before it
descended on the valley of the Saco. They dwelt in a cold spot and a
dangerous one; for a mountain towered above their heads, so steep that the
stones would often rumble down its sides and startle them at midnight.
2 The daughter had just uttered some simple jest that filled them all with mirth,
when the wind came through the Notch and seemed to pause before their
cottage—rattling the door, with a sound of wailing and lamentation, before it
passed into the valley. For a moment it saddened them, though there was
nothing unusual in the tones. But the family were glad again when they
perceived that the latch was lifted by some traveler, whose footsteps had
been unheard amid the dreary blast which heralded his approach, and wailed
as he was entering, and went moaning away from the door.
3 Though they dwelt in such a solitude, these people held daily converse with
the world. The romantic pass of the Notch is a great artery, through which
the lifeblood of internal commerce is continually throbbing between Maine, on
one side, and the Green Mountains and the shores of the St. Lawrence, on
the other. The stagecoach always drew up before the door of the cottage.
The wayfarer, with no companion but his staff, paused here to exchange a
word, that the sense of loneliness might not utterly overcome him ere he
could pass through the cleft of the mountain, or reach the first house in the
valley. And here the teamster, on his way to Portland market, would put up

for the night; and, if a bachelor, might sit an hour beyond the usual bedtime,
and steal a kiss from the mountain maid at parting. It was one of those
primitive taverns where the traveler pays only for food and lodging, but
meets with a homely kindness beyond all price. When the footsteps were
heard, therefore, between the outer door and the inner one, the whole family
rose up, grandmother, children, and all, as if about to welcome someone who
belonged to them, and whose fate was linked with theirs.
4 The door was opened by a young man. His face at first wore the melancholy
expression, almost despondency, of one who travels a wild and bleak road, at
nightfall and alone, but soon brightened up when he saw the kindly warmth
of his reception. He felt his heart spring forward to meet them all, from the
old woman, who wiped a chair with her apron, to the little child that held out
its arms to him. One glance and smile placed the stranger on a footing of
innocent familiarity with the eldest daughter.
5 “Ah, this fire is the right thing!” cried he; “especially when there is such a
pleasant circle round it. I am quite benumbed; for the Notch is just like the
pipe of a great pair of bellows; it has blown a terrible blast in my face all the
way from Bartlett.”
6 “Then you are going toward Vermont?” said the master of the house, as he
helped to take a light knapsack off the young man’s shoulders.
7 ” Yes; to Burlington, and far enough beyond,” replied he. “I meant to have
been at Ethan Crawford’s tonight; but a pedestrian lingers along such a road
as this. It is no matter; for, when I saw this good fire, and all your cheerful
faces, I felt as if you had kindled it on purpose for me, and were waiting my
arrival. So I shall sit down among you, and make myself at home.”
8 The frank-hearted stranger had just drawn his chair to the fire when
something like a heavy footstep was heard without, rushing down the steep
side of the mountain, as with long and rapid strides, and taking such a leap in
passing the cottage as to strike the opposite precipice. The family held their
breath because they knew the sound, and their guest held his by instinct. FROM THOSE 8 PARAGRAPHS SUMMERIZE THIS STORY IN (3-4 SENTENCES ANSWERING THESE FOLLOWING QUESTIONS... “The Ambitious Guest” by Nathaniel Hawthorne, is about? The main point (message/theme) Hawthorne is presenting is?