ious letter must be to blot the new leaf which he had so ardently
desired to turn with shadows of his past which no effort of his own
could entirely obliterate.

For the soreness of finding himself disowned as Mr. Allan's son--this
time publicly, in a manner--he found somewhat of balm in the letter of
cordial praise addressed to the Honorable Secretary of War in his
behalf, by the father of his old friend, Jack Preston. Mr. Preston
described him as a young gentleman of genius who had already gained
reputation for talents and attainments at the University of Virginia,
and added,

"I would not write this recommendation if I did not believe he would
remunerate the Government at some future day by his services and
talents, for whatever may be done for him."

Happily for the, at times, morbidly, sensitive youth, he had soon
forgotten the sting caused by the letter in a return to the dreams which
he regarded as not only the chief joy but the chief business of his
life; for though he was preparing himself for the profession of a
soldier, he had never for a moment, forsworn the Muse of Poetry. For a
whole year before being transferred to Fortress Monroe he had been
stationed at Fort Moultrie, in Charleston harbor. There his wonderful
dream-lady, "Ligeia," had seemed especially near to him, and often, when
the day's work was done and he recognized her voice in the music of the
waves or felt her kiss in the soft, southern air, blown across spicey
islets, he would up and away with her across the world, on the moon's
silver track; or on nights when no moon came up out of the sea, would
wander with her through the star-sown sky.

There was one fair star that invited his fancy with peculiar insistence.
It seemed to beckon to him with the flashes of its beams. He questioned
"Ligeia" of it and she told him that it was none other than Al Aaraaf,
the great star discovered by Tycho Brahe, which after suddenly appearing
and shining for a few nights with a brilliancy surpassing that of
Jupiter, disappeared never to be seen again; never except by him--The
Dreamer--to whom it was given not only to gaze upon it from the far
earth, but, with her as his guide, to visit it and to explore its fairy
landscape where the spirits of lost sculptures enjoyed immortality.

The result of this flight of fancy to a magical world was the poem, "Al
Aaraaf."

He spent the interim between his honorable discharge from the army and
his entrance at West Poi