took great interest in giving me all the information in her power, and the life and writings of Edgar A. Poe have been the topic of our conversation for hours.
London, August 31.
Respectfully,
M. M. 'Cready."
This impudent and utterly baseless circumstantial account, which, need it be remarked was pure fiction from alpha to omega, was followed by the following tawdry parody:—
The Fire Fiend:
A Nightmare.
I.
In the deepest dearth of Midnight, while the sad and solemn swell
Still was floating, faintly echoed from the Forest Chapel Bell—
Faintly, falteringly floating o'er the sable waves of air,
That were through the Midnight rolling, chafed and billowy with the tolling
In my chamber I lay dreaming by the fire-light's fitful gleaming,
And my dreams were dreams foreshadowed on a heart foredomed to care!
II.
As the last long lingering echo of the Midnight's mystic chime—
Lifting through the sable billows to the Thither Shore of Time—
Leaving on the starless silence not a token nor a trace—
In a quivering sigh departed; from my couch in fear I started:
Started to my feet in terror, for my Dream's phantasmal Error
Painted in the fitful fire a frightful, fiendish, flaming, face!
