Now if you have accomplished this, as I dare say you have, what remains to be feared? what to be despaired of? I see nothing. Tell me what you see, & ten to one I can prove to you it is a chimera of your own vivid imagination. At all events come over and see me tomorrow evening (Saturday) & we will talk the matter over. "I have thought - long & darkly," but out of the "whirling gulf of phantasy & flame" there has sprung a firm will or resolution to meet the realities of life with an iron energy & I find myself the better for it. So do not give up but come & let me talk to you. - Give my very kindest regards to Mrs. Poe. I intended to have seen her before this time, but I have some friends staying with me from the country & next week I am going to leave town for a few days, so I must defer it till my return. - I hope she will be able to come with you to-mor

row night.

I am sorry I shall not be in town to hear your poem, on Tuesday evening. Can't you bring over & read a few passages ? If you do not come tomorrow eve. I shall be at home on Sunday evening & happy to see you then. -I shall take the Tales with me & read them in the country. Many thanks for them.

SIMMS TO POE.

[Griswold Collection.]

EDGAR A. POE, Esq.

NEW YORK, July 30, 1846.

DEAR SIR, I received your note a week ago, and proceeded at once to answer it, but being in daily expectation of a newspaper from the South, to which, in a

Letter, I had communicated a paragraph concerning the matter which you had suggested in a previous letter, I determined to wait until I could enclose it to you. It has been delayed somewhat longer than I had anticipated, and has in part caused my delay to answer you. I now send it you, and trust that it will answer the desired purpose; though I must frankly say that I scarcely see the necessity of noticing the sort of scandal to which you refer. — I note with regret the very desponding character of your last letter. I surely need not tell you how deeply and sincerely I deplore the misfortunes which attend you, the more so as I see no process for your relief and extrication but such as must result from your own decision and resolve. No friend can help you in the struggle which is before you. Money, no doubt, can be procured; but this is not altogether what you require. Sympathy may soothe the hurts of Self Esteem, and make a man temporarily forgetful of his assailants ;but in what degree will this avail, and for how long, in the protracted warfare of twenty or thirty years? You are still a very young man, and one too largely and too variously endowed, not to entertain the conviction — as your friends entertain it - of a long and manful struggle with, and a final victory over, fortune. But this warfare, the world requires you to carry on with your own unassisted powers. It is only in your manly resolution to use these powers, after a legitimate fashion, that it will countenance your claims to its regards and sympathy; and I need not tell you how rigid and exacting it has been in the case of the poetical genius, or, indeed, the genius of any order. Suffer me to tell you frankly, taking the privilege of a true friend, that you are now perhaps in the most perilous period of your career—just in that position just at that time of life—when a false step becomes a capital error when a single leading mistake is fatal in its consequences. You are no longer a boy. "At thirty wise or never !" You must subdue your impulses ; &, in particular, let me exhort you to discard all associations

with men, whatever their talents, whom you cannot esteem as men. Pardon me for presuming thus to counsel one whose great natural and acquired resources should make him rather the teacher of others. But I obey a law of my own nature, and it is because of my sympathies that I speak. Do not suppose yourself abandoned by the worthy and honorable among your friends. They will be glad to give you welcome if you will suffer them. They will rejoice I know their feelings and hear their language—to countenance your return to that community that moral province in society of which, let me say to you, respectfully and regretfully, — you have been, according to all reports but too heedlessly, and, perhaps, too scornfully indifferent. Remain in obscurity for awhile. You have a young wife - I am told a suffering & an interesting one, - let me entreat you to cherish her, and to cast away those pleasures which are not worthy of your mind, and to trample those temptations under foot, which degrade your person, and make it familiar to the mouth of vulgar jest. You may do all this, by a little circumspection. It is still within your power. Your resources from literature are probably much greater than mine. I am sure they are just as great. You can increase them, so that they shall be ample for all your legitimate desires; but you must learn the worldling's lesson of prudence ; a lesson, let me add, which the literary world has but too frequently & unwisely disparaged. It may seem to you very impertinent, - in most cases it is impertinent that he who gives nothing else should presume to give counsel. But one gives that which he can most spare, and you must not esteem me indifferent to a condition which I can in no other way assist. I have never been regardless of your genius, even when I knew nothing of your person. It is some years since I counselled Mr Godey to obtain the contributions of your pen. He will tell you this. I hear that you reproach him. But how can you expect a magazine proprietor to encourage contributions which embroil him with all his