painting, the horrid whirlpool is so placed before the mind, that we
feel as if we had seen, and been down into it.

The "Gold Bug" is the first and the most striking of the series, owing
to the extreme and startling ingenuity with which the narrative is
constructed. It would be impossible, however, to convey an idea of
this species of merit, without telling the whole story; nor would it
be possible to tell the story in shorter compass, with any effect,
than it occupies here. The "Murders of the Rue Morgue," and "The
Mystery of Marie Roget," both turn on the interest excited by the
investigation of circumstantial evidence. But, unlike most stories of
this description, our sympathies are not called upon, either in the
fate of the person assassinated, or in behalf of some individual
falsely accused of the crime; the interest is sustained solely by the
nature of the evidence, and the inferences to be adduced from it. The
latter of these stories is, in fact, a transfer to the city of Paris
of a tragedy which had been really enacted in New York. The incidents
have been carefully preserved, the scene alone changed, and the object
of the author in thus re-narrating the facts seems to have been to
investigate the evidence again, and state his own conclusions as to
the probable culprit. From these, also, it would be quite as
impossible to make an extract as it would be to quote a passage from
an interesting _case_ as reported in one of our law-books. The last
story in the volume has, however, the advantage of being brief, and an
outline of it may convey some idea of the peculiar manner of Mr Poe.
It is entitled "The Man of the Crowd."

The author describes himself as sitting on an autumnal evening at the
bow-window of the D---- coffee-house in London. He has just recovered
from an illness, and feels in that happy frame of mind, the precise
converse of ennui, where merely to breathe is enjoyment, and we feel a
fresh and inquisitive interest in all things around us.

The passing crowd entertains him with its motley variety of costume
and character. He has watched till the sun has gone down, and the
streets have become indebted for their illumination solely to the gas
lamps. As the night deepened, the interest of the scene deepened also,
for the character of the crowd had insensibly but materially changed,
and strange features and aspects of ill omen begin to make their
appearance.

With his brow to the glass of the window, our