The Wilmingtonian., 1884-10-18
to an eternity of woe and misery, worse than
the annihilation of hell!'

Il am sorry" broke off Mr.. Slrtain, "that
cannot recall these questions-more wild
and weird than any of the feryid imagerie,
that ever dropped from his pen, and deliv.
cred i'll such rich, musical tones that oui
lonely station seemed peopled with an audi,
ence from the spirit world"
"'She showed me, he kept on, some OF
the terrible torments | would have ia
undergo All! what sight! Great cal
drons of boiling liquor, steaming and fizzing
in the moonlight. But saw the trap set
by the conspirators, and told her SO, boldly.
Ii once faltered, down, down she would
plunge me to the chin i'll the burning
brandy, there to squirm, like Tantalus, with
parched throat, staring eye-balls and agonies
OF pain. Then pack of demons brought
my mother to the caldron, chopped off her
feet before my eyes, then her knees, her
thighs, her arms, and at last plunged tho
poor, bleeding Trunk into the reeking, bub-
bling caldron.'
Dreaming dreams that mortal never dared to
dream before"
until, as the ptchy night wore on deemed
it better TO get him away. "Let us go now,'
said, and without wal ing for any possible
objection, put myself on the outside of the
stairway and led him down. Once started
there was no stopping. go on, go on! he
plead excitedly. So | managed to direct
our footsteps to the omnibus stand, | half
forced him in, and before he could recover
from his surprise, we were on our way back
to the city. Once in the house all his terror
returned with double force. He begged
again for laundanum, and thinking to quiet
his misgivings and allay his nervousness,
gave him slight dose of opium. He soon
fell into troubled sleep, and as we had no
spare chamber that night, l stayed with him
in the studio. Next day his disordered
brain was in no wise calmer. He was still
hiding in imagination from those terrible
conspirators. Poe, said |, you are labor
ing under monstrous delusion. Believe
me you are not in the slightest danger and
if amy one is pursuing you, 1 am sure you
are perfectly safe here, housed in with me-
Yes, he exclaimed, but can say. |, is
unreasonable. will not sponge on you
longer 'Sponge!' replied l, you know
you are entirely welcome here No, no;
could see your family resented my presence
at the table, and | overheard your son com
planning 9lthe front room WHY. Poe:
urged, ARE you mad9 Except at meals we
have not left the library to-day for one
minute, and how could you oYerhear con
versation through two rooms, three doors,
staircase and a corridor? Why, it is as pre-
posterous as Sam Wcller's double hextra'
eye-sight.' What! he angrily retorted
didn't tell you of the woman fiend ON the |
palapet. And if | understood her, can't you |
see how easy it is for me to distinguish
human yoices? All my pleading was of no
avail. Hallucination, phantasmagoria! he |
Indignantly rejected such consolation, and |
refused to converse with me- Later in the
day he contriyed to escape from the house. |
''It appears that he wandered aimlessly
through the streets, until utterly tagged out
be threw bimself down in an open pleasant
field way out in the northern suburbs, aud
at last obtained the repose which his shat
tered nerves so soIely needed. 4 lay there,
he told me that night, with my face buried
in the grass; it's sweet odor, with the smell
of the soil, and all their many memories,
slowly cleared my mind.
"The balauce of my story is brief. Next
day he started forth again to secure some
linen, which kind friend, he said, had
promised to have ashed for him. Return
ing with this done up into small bundle,
he borrowed some money of me, promising
speedy payment (Which |, of course, felt to
be impossible), and left at once { r Balti-
more. One month later he fell in with that
gang of monumental roughs, incapable of
ap. reciating or pitying his sensitive organ
ism; those shameful gntter scenes followed,
with an attack similar TO the one | wit
messed; and in few days, within the walls
of hospital, Poe's despairing soul fiuttered
and went out"
The smyrna Times, an independent journal,
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