e or twice
accompanied by his wife. At these he made the acquaintance of Mrs.
Hewitt, Mrs. Elizabeth Oakes Smith and Mrs. E. F. Ellet, with others of
the "starry sisterhood of poetesses," as they were called by some
poetaster of the day, with each of whom he in succession formed one of
the sentimental platonic friendships to which he was given. All these,
however, were destined to yield to the superior attractions of a sister
poetess, Mrs. Frances Sergeant Osgood, wife of the artist of that name.

Mrs. Osgood, at this time about thirty-years of age, is described by R.
H. Stoddard as "A paragon--not only loved by men, but liked by women as
well." Attractive in person, bright, witty and sweet-natured, she won
even the splenatic Thomas Dunn English and the stoical Greeley, whose
approval of her was as frankly expressed as was his denunciation of the
"ugliness, self-conceit and disagreeableness" of her friend, the
transcendentalist, Margaret Fuller.

Poe, who had written a very flattering notice of Mrs. Osgood's poems--in
return for which she addressed him some lines in the character of
_Israefel_--obtained an introduction and visited her frequently. Also,
at his request, she called upon his wife, and friendly relations were
soon established between them. To her, after Poe's death, we are
indebted for a characteristic picture of the poet and his wife in their
home in Amity street; and which, though almost too well known for
repetition, I will here give as a specimen of his home life:

"It was in his own simple yet poetical home that the character of Edgar
Poe appeared to me in its most beautiful light. Playful, affectionate,
witty, alternately docile and wayward as a petted child, for his young,
gentle and idolized wife and for all who came, he had, even in the midst
of the most harassing literary duties, a kind word, a pleasant smile, a
graceful and courteous attention. At his desk, beneath the romantic
picture of his loved and lost Lenore'[6] patient, assiduous,
uncomplaining, tracing in an exquisitely clear chirography and with
almost superhuman swiftness the lightning thoughts, the rare and radiant
fancies as they flowed through his wonderful brain. For hours I have
listened entranced to his strains of almost celestial eloquence.

[6] A pencil sketch of Mrs. Stanard by Poe himself.

"I recollect one morning toward the close of his residence in this city,
when he seemed unusually gay and light-hearted, Virginia, hi