his visit; and it was a curious picture which
she gave of the life of the poet and his family in the humble little
cottage on Fordham Hill.

Poe was away when she arrived--presumably in his insane pursuit of Mrs.
Osgood. Miss Poe told of "Aunt Clemm's" distress and anxiety on his
account, and of how she "scraped together every penny" and borrowed
money from herself to send to Edgar, who, she said, had been taken ill
while on a business trip. There were no provisions in the house
scarcely, and she herself, both then and at various other times, would
purchase supplies from the market and grocers' wagons which passed; for
there were no stores at the little country station of Fordham.

Miss Poe told of her brother's arrival at home, and of how she overheard
Mrs. Clemm administering to him a severe "scolding." He was so ill that
he had to be put to bed by Mrs. Clemm, who sat up with him all night
while he "talked out of his head" and begged for morphine. After some
days he was better, and walked about the house and sat under the pine
trees crowning a rocky knoll within calling distance of the house--ever
a constant and favorite retreat of his, affording fine views of the
river and neighboring country.

One day, still weak and ill, he sat at his desk and looked over his
papers. Mrs. Clemm then took his place, and wrote at his dictation. Aunt
Clemm, said Rosalie, could exactly imitate Edgar's writing. On the
following day she filled her satchel with some of these papers and went
to the city, whence she returned late in the evening, quite after dark,
with a hamper of provisions and medicines to Virginia's great delight,
who had feared some mishap to her mother and cried accordingly. Miss Poe
believed that this hamper was a present from some one, but Aunt Clemm
was very reserved toward her in regard to her affairs. She knew, she
said, that Mrs. Clemm had never liked her, but Edgar and Virginia were
kind.

From this time Poe wrote industriously, seldom going to town, but
sending his mother-in-law instead. Several times Mrs. Clemm gave her
niece some "copying" to do, but this was not to her a very gratifying
task, and when, on her return home, she was asked what it was about, had
not the least idea! She always insisted that _Anabel Lee_ was written at
this time, as she repeatedly heard Edgar read it to Mrs. Clemm and also
to himself, and recognized it when it was published two years afterward.
A curious picture was that which