mselves and toady me again. You, who know me, will comprehend that I
speak of these things only as having served, in a measure, to lighten the
gloom of unhappiness, by a gentle and not unpleasant sentiment of mingled
pity, merriment and contempt. That, as the inevitable consequence of so
long an illness, I have been in want of money, it would be folly in me to
deny--but that I have ever materially suffered from privation, beyond the
extent of my capacity for suffering, is not altogether true. That I am
'without friends' is a gross calumny, which I am sure _you_ never could
have believed, and which a thousand noble-hearted men would have good
right never to forgive me for permitting to pass unnoticed and undenied.
Even in the city of New York I could have no difficulty in naming a
hundred persons, to each of whom--when the hour for speaking had
arrived--I could and would have applied for aid with unbounded
confidence, and with absolutely _no_ sense of humiliation. I do not
think, my dear Willis, that there is any need of my saying more. I am
getting better, and may add--if it be any comfort to my enemies--that I
have little fear of getting worse. The truth is, I have a great deal to
do; and I have made up my mind not to die till it is done. Sincerely
yours,

"December 30th, 1846. EDGAR A. POE."

This was written for effect. He had not been ill a great while, nor
dangerously at all; there was no literary or personal abuse of him in the
journals; and his friends in town had been applied to for money until
their patience was nearly exhausted. His wife, however, was very sick,
and in a few weeks she died. In a letter to a lady in Massachusetts, who,
upon the appearance of the newspaper articles above quoted, had sent him
money and expressions of sympathy, he wrote, under date of March 10,
1847:

"In answering your kind letter permit me in the first place to absolve
myself from a suspicion which, under the circumstances, you could
scarcely have failed to entertain--a suspicion of discourtesy toward
yourself, in not having more promptly replied to you.... I could not help
feeling that should you see my letter to Mr. Willis--in which a natural
pride, which I feel you could not blame, impelled me to shrink from
public charity, even _at the cost of truth, in denying those necessities
which were but too real_--I could not help fearing that, should you see
this letter, you would yourself feel pained at having caused me pain-at
h