he youthful sweetheart from whom Poe took a
tender and despairing farewell when he entered the University of
Virginia. Here he spent many pleasant evenings, writing to Mrs. Clemm
with enthusiasm of his renewed acquaintance with his former lady-love.

Next to the last evening that Poe spent in Richmond he called on Susan
Talley, afterward Mrs. Weiss, with whom he discussed "The Raven,"
pointing out various defects which he might have remedied had he
supposed that the world would capture that midnight bird and hang it
up in the golden cage of a "Collection of Best Poems." He was haunted
by the "ghost" which "each separate dying ember wrought" upon the
floor, and had never been able to explain satisfactorily to himself
how and why, his head should have been "reclining on the cushion's
velvet lining" when the topside would have been more convenient for
any purpose except that of rhyme. But it cannot be demanded of a poet
that he should explain himself to anybody, least of all to himself. To
his view, the shadow of the raven upon the floor was the most glaring
of its impossibilities. "Not if you suppose a transom with the light
shining through from an outer hall," replied the ingenious Susan.

When Poe left the Talley home he went to Duncan Lodge, a short
distance away, and spent the night. The next night he was at Sadler's
Old Market Hotel, leaving early in the morning for Philadelphia, but
stopping in Baltimore, where came to him the tragic, mysterious end of
all things.

Poe knew men as little as he knew any of the other every-day facts of
life. In the depths of that ignorance he left his reputation in the
hands of the only being he ever met who would tear it to shreds and
throw it into the mire.

"THE SUNRISE POET"

SIDNEY LANIER

In my memory-gallery hangs a beautiful picture of the Lanier home as I
saw it years ago, on High Street in Macon, Georgia, upon a hillock
with greensward sloping down on all sides. It is a wide, roomy
mansion, with hospitality written all over its broad steps that lead
up to a wide veranda on which many windows look out and smile upon the
visitor as he enters. One tall dormer window, overarched with a high
peak, comes out to the very edge of the roof to welcome the guest.
Two, smaller and more retiring, stand upon the verge of the
high-combed house-roof and look down in friendly greeting. There are
tall trees in the yard, bending a little to touch the old house
lovingly.

Far aw