rare and radiant maiden," with the tender light of
womanhood beginning to dawn in her velvet eyes and to sweeten the curves
of her lips. A maiden lovelier by far than the child had been but with
the same divine purity and innocence that had always been hers--that
were his, for her beauty, her purity and innocence and the stored sweets
of her nature were still for him alone and for him alone too, was her
sweet companionship--her comradeship--of which he never wearied.

Under his guidance her mind had unfolded like a flower. She was
beginning to speak fluently in French and in Italian. How he loved the
musical southern accents on her tongue! And she was developing an
exquisite singing voice. Her voice was her crowning grace--her voice
was his delight of delights! As he gazed into the shadows that lay under
her long black lashes and listened to her voice, with its hint of hidden
springs of passion, his pulses stirred at the thought that this lovely
flower of dawning womanhood was his little Virginia, and his own heart
ached to think that any desire of hers should ever be denied.

In his desperation he thought of teaching and applied for a position in
a school, but without success.

But relief was at hand.

While the Dreamer and his friend the editor of _The Saturday Visitor_
had been building literary air-castles in Baltimore, a journal destined
to take something approaching such a stand as their ideal was actually
founded, in Richmond, under the title of _The Southern Literary
Messenger_. Its owner and publisher, Mr. Thomas W. White, was no
dreamer, but a practical printer and an enterprising man of business.
Early in this year--the year 1835--Mr. White wrote to Mr. Kennedy,
requesting a contribution from his pen for the new magazine, and, as was
to be expected, Mr. Kennedy, with his wonted thoughtfulness of his
literary protege, wrote back commending to Mr. White's notice the work
of "a remarkable young man by the name of Edgar Poe."

At Mr. Kennedy's suggestion Edgar bundled off some of the "Tales of the
Folio Club" for Mr. White's inspection, with the result that in the
March number of the _Messenger_ the weird story "Berenice," appeared. It
and its author became at once the talk of the hour, and when the history
of "The Adventures of Hans Phaal" came out in the June number it found
the reading public ready and waiting to fall upon and devour it.

Other stories and articles followed in quick succession and the pun