has given me renewed life. In all my present anxieties and embarrassments, I still feel in my inmost soul a divine joy — a happiness inexpressible — that nothing seems to disturb. For hours at a time I sit and think of you — of your lovely character — your true faith and unworldliness. I do not believe that any one in this whole world fully understands me except your own dear self.... How glad I am to hear about Sarah’s living with you, and about the school. Tell her that she is my own dear sister, whom I shall always love. Do not let her think ill of me; I hope Mr. C — is well. Remember me to him, and ask him if he has seen my “Rationale of Verse” in the last October and November numbers of the Southern Literary Messenger.... I am so busy now, and feel so full of energy. Engagements to write are pouring in upon me every day. I had two proposals within the last week from Boston. I sent yesterday an article to the American Review about “Critics and Criticism.” Not long ago I sent one to the Metropolitan called “Landor’s Cottage:” it has something about Annie in it, and will appear, I suppose, in the March number. To the S. L. Messenger I have sent fifty pages of “Marginalia” — five pages to appear each month of the current year. I have also made permanent engagements with every magazine in America (except Peterson’s National), including a Cincinnati magazine called The Gentlemen’s. So you see that I have only to keep up my spirits to get out of all my pecuniary troubles. The least price I get is $5 per “Graham page,” and I can easily average 1 1/2 per day — that is $7 1/2. As soon as “returns” come in I shall be out of difficulty. I see Godey advertises an article by me, but I am at a loss to know what it is. You ask me, Annie, to tell you about some book to read. Have you seen “Percy Ranthorpe,” by Mrs. Gore? You can get it at any of the agencies. I have lately read it with deep interest, and derived great consolation from it also. It relates to the career of a literary man, and gives a just view of the true aims and the true dignity of the literary character. Read it for my sake....
But of one thing rest assured, Annie — from this day forth I shun the pestilential society of literary women. They are a heartless, unnatural, venomous, dishonorable set, with no guiding principle but inordinate self-esteem. Mrs Osgood is the only exception I know. Our dear mother sends you a hundred kisses (fifty for Sarah). She will write very soon. Kiss little Caddy for me, and remember me to Mr. R and to all.
I have had a most distressing headache for the last two weeks. (. . . .)
Edgar Allan Poe to Annie L. Richmond — February 8, 1849
Thursday, — 8th.
Dear, dear Annie —
Our darling mother is just going to town, where, I hope, she will find a sweet letter from you, or from Sarah, but, as it is so long since I have written, I must send a few words to let you see and feel that your Eddy, even when silent, keeps you always in his mind and heart — in his inmost heart. I have been so busy, dear Annie, ever since I returned from Providence — six weeks ago. I have not suffered a day to pass without writing from a page to three pages. Yesterday, I wrote five, and the day before a poem considerably longer than “The Raven.” I call it “The Bells.” How I wish my Annie could see it! Her opinion is so dear to me on such topics. On all it is everything to me — but on poetry in especial. And Sarah, too. — I told her, when we were at Westford, that I hardly ever knew any one with a keener discrimination in regard to what is really poetical. The s prose pages I finished yesterday are called — what do you think? — I am sure you will never guess —”Hop-Frog!” Only think of your Eddy writing a story with such a name as “Hop-Frog”! You would never guess the subject (which is a terrible one) from the title, I am sure. It will be published in a weekly paper, of Boston, called “The Flag of Our Union” — not a very respectable journal, perhaps, in a literary point of view, but one that pays as high prices as most of the Magazines. The proprietor wrote to