. His enjoyment in every
detail of the work was almost that of a boy. Though now an old man, he
seemed as sunny and as gay as ever. Every one who knew him loved him;
and all the people who now read his books must have the same
affectionate fondness for this most delightful of companions.

In the United States he met both Dickens and Thackeray. His friendship
with Dickens was begun by a letter which Irving wrote to the great
novelist, enthusiastically praising his work. At once Dickens replied
in a long letter, fairly bubbling over with delight and friendship.
Here is a part of it:

"There is no man in the world who could have given me the heartfelt
pleasure you have. There is no living writer, and there are very few
among the dead, whose approbation I should feel so proud to earn. And
with everything you have written upon my shelves, and in my thoughts,
and in my heart of hearts, I may honestly and truly say so.

"I have been so accustomed to associate you with my pleasantest and
happiest thoughts, and with my leisure hours, that I rush at once into
full confidence with you, and fall, as it were, naturally, and by the
very laws of gravity, into your open arms.... My dear Washington
Irving, I cannot thank you enough for your cordial and generous
praise, or tell you what deep and lasting gratification it has given
me. I hope to have many letters from you, and to exchange a frequent
correspondence. I send this to say so....

"Always your faithful friend,

"CHARLES DICKENS."

The warmth of feeling which Dickens displays on receiving his first
letter from Irving, we must all feel when we have become as well
acquainted with Irving's works as Dickens was.

Washington Irving died on the 28th of November, 1859, at his dear
Sunnyside, and now lies buried in a cemetery upon a hill near by, in a
beautiful spot overlooking the Hudson river and Sleepy Hollow.

* * * * *

NOTE.--The thanks of the publishers are due to G. P. Putnam's Sons for
kind permission to use extracts from the Works of Washington Irving.

THE STORY OF EDGAR ALLAN POE

[Illustration: _EDGAR ALLAN POE_.]

EDGAR ALLAN POE

CHAPTER I

THE ARTIST IN WORDS

Who has not felt the weird fascination of Poe's strangely beautiful
poem "The Raven"? Perhaps on some stormy evening you have read it
until the "silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain" has
"thrilled you, filled you, with fantastic terro