Two passages from his letters written at this time show that he possessed in a remarkable degree the two virtues of gratitude and humility, which have been denied him by various of his biographers.

He had written a criticism of Mr. Kennedy's novel, "Horse-Shoe Robinson," and apologizing for the hasty sketch he sent, instead of the thorough review which he had intended, he says :-" At the time, I was so ill as to be hardly able to see the paper on which I wrote, and I finished it in a state of complete exhaustion. I have not, therefore, done anything like justice to the book, and I am vexed about the matter, for Mr. Kennedy has proved himself a kind friend to me in every respect, and I am sincerely grateful to him for many acts of generosity and attention." In the same letter, in answer to Mr. White's enquiry whether he was satisfied with the pay he was receiving for his work on The Messenger, Poe wrote: "I reply that I am, entirely. My poor services are not worth what you give me for them."

POE'S LOVE STORY.

While residing with Mrs. Clemm, the affection for his cousin had deepened. She was now a singularly beautiful girl of fourteen, and for some time Poe had been engaged in the intervals of his literary labours in instructing her. were but children.

"I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea:

But we loved with a love that was more than love

I and my Annabel Lee;

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven

Coveted her and me.”

They

It is this love and this courtship which he has woven into

many of his stories and poems. In Eleonora it is supposed that he tells the story, describing their residence and surroundings under the guise of "The Valley of the Many Coloured Grass." There they "lived all alone, knowing nothing of the world, without the valley-I and my cousin and her mother." Again he describes the sweet recesses of the vale; "the deep and narrow river brighter than all, save the eyes of Eleonora; the soft green grass so besprinkled throughout with the yellow buttercup, the white daisy, the purple violet, and the ruby red asphodel, that its exceeding beauty spoke to our hearts in loud tones of the love and of the glory of God." They were both young,

"But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we."

In his devotion to his starry-eyed young cousin he never seems to have wavered, and his love seems never to have lessened. Sorrow, disappointment, depression-nothing changed his affection; and while with her and her mother he seems to have lived a hard-working, steady and praiseworthy life. It was when compelled to be absent, when the sense of "intolerable disaster” overwhelmed him alone, that he became subject to severe fits of depression, and then it was, according to some biographers, that he yielded to stimulants—as many another has done—to enliven his spirit and cheer his heart.

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An instance of this now occurred. It was when he went to Richmond to act as assistant editor to The Messenger." His connection with that publication had been so satisfactory that late in the summer of 1835, he was offered this position of assistant editor at a salary of 500 dollars per He gladly accepted the offer, but before leaving

annum.

Baltimore he persuaded Mrs. Clemm to allow him to marry his sweet cousin. His aunt finally consented, and on the 2nd of September, 1835, they were united at old Christ Church by the Rev. John Johns, D.D., who afterwards became the Protestant Episcopal Bishop of Virginia. The very next day he went to Richmond, and did not see his darling little wife for a year, when she and her mother joined him in that city.

This visit to Richmond seems to have been very unwise. Doubtless Poe was anxious to obtain a fixed salary, but it was in this town that he had been petted and spoiled by Mr. Allan (who was now dead), and had held his head high and mingled with the very best and wealthiest society, and now his life would have to be very different. He found that his whilom friends despised him because of his poverty, and again and again his sensitive soul was cut to the quick. Most painfully also did he feel the separation from his young wife. She had been his daily and hourly companion so long that his life seemed a perfect blank without her. With her love to help him he could smile at misfortune. In the light of her loveliness he cared nothing for the scorn of others; but now he was alone, he felt his position most acutely.

The following letter from Poe to Mr Kennedy reveals the great mental depression from which he suffered at this time :

RICHMOND, September 11, 1835.

DEAR SIR, I received a letter from Dr. Miller, in which he tells me your are in town.

I hasten, therefore, to write you and express by letter what I have always found it impossible to express orally,—my deep sense of gratitude for your frequent and ineffectual assistance and kindness.

Through your influence, Mr. White has been induced to

employ me in assisting him with the editorial duties of his magazine at a salary of five hundred and twenty dollars per

annum.

The situation is agreeable to me for many reasons, but, alas! it appears to me that nothing can give me pleasure or the slightest gratification.

Excuse me, my dear sir, if in this letter you find much incoherency; my feelings at this moment, are pitiable indeed.

I am suffering under a depression of spirits such as I have never felt before. I have struggled in vain against the influence of this melancholy; you will believe me when I say that I am still miserable, in spite of the great improvement in my circumstances. I say you will believe me, and for this simple reason, that a man who is writing for effect does not write thus. My heart is open before you; if it be worth reading, read it. I am wretched, and know not why. Console me! for you can. But let it be quickly, or it will be too late. Write me immediately; convince me that it is worth one's while that it is at all necessary-to live, and you will prove yourself indeed my friend. Persuade me to do what is right. I do mean this. I do not mean that you should consider what I now write you a jest. O, pity me! for I feel that my words are incoherent; but I will recover myself. You will not fail to see that I am suffering under a depression of spirits which will ruin me should it be long continued. Write me, then, and quickly; urge me to do what is right. Your words will have more weight with me than the words of others, for you were my friend when no one else was. Fail not, as you value your peace of mind hereafter.

E. A. POE.

"How little (says Gill) the peculiar temperament of Poe was understood by those with whom he was associated, and how little of that precious sympathy for which his sensitive soul pined was vouchsafed him, is evident from the following matter-of-fact, but kindly intended, letter from his best friend, in answer to his despairing plaint :

"I am sorry to see you in such plight as your letter shows you in. It is strange that just at this time, when everybody is praising you, and when fortune is beginning to smile upon your hitherto wretched circumstances, you should be invaded by these blue-devils. It belongs, however, to your age and temper to be thus buffeted; but be assured, it only wants a little resolution to master the adversary forever. You will doubtless do well henceforth in literature, and add to your comforts as well as to your reputation, which, it gives me great pleasure to assure you, is everywhere rising in popular esteem.

It is to be feared, however, that Poe did not, or could not, act upon this advice, and that to remove the depression which now weighed on him so heavily, he yielded to stimulants, though not to such an alarming degree as some of his biographers would have us believe.

The subject of Poe's alleged intemperance is one that has given rise to an amount of righteous condemnation that would have overwhelmed the reputation of an ordinary writer. Concerning it Mr. N. P. Willis writes, “We heard from one who knew him well (what should be stated in all mention of his lamentable irregularities), that with a single glass of wine his whole nature was reversed; the demon became uppermost, and, although none of the usual signs of intoxication were visible, his will was palpably insane."

On this point Mr. Thomas C. Latto writes, "Whatever his lapses might have been, whatever he might say of himself (Burns was equally incautious, and equally garrulous in his aberrations), the American poet was never a sot; yet the charge has been made against him again and again." In his biography, Gill says :—

"One of the most respected clergymen in Massachusetts, who knew Poe well during the later years of the poet's life,