tion of my time is employed."

He continued in Baltimore till September. In this period he wrote several
long reviews, which for the most part were rather abstracts of works than
critical discussions, and published, with others, "Hans Phall," a story
in some respects very similar to Mr. Locke's celebrated account of
Herschel's Discoveries in the Moon. At first he appears to have been ill
satisfied with Richmond, or with his duties, for in two or three weeks
after his removal to that city we find Mr. Kennedy writing to him:

"I am sorry to see you in such plight as your letter shows you in. It is
strange that just at this time, when everybody is praising you, and when
fortune is beginning to smile upon your hitherto wretched circumstances,
you should be invaded by those blue devils. It belongs, however, to your
age and temper to be thus buffeted--but be assured, it only wants a
little resolution to master the adversary forever. You will doubtless do
well henceforth in literature, and add to your _comforts_ as well as to
your reputation, which it gives me great pleasure to assure you is
everywhere rising in popular esteem."

But he could not bear his good fortune. On receiving a month's salary he
gave himself up to habits which only necessity had restrained at
Baltimore. For a week he was in a condition of brutish drunkenness, and
Mr. White dismissed him. When he became sober, however, he had no
recourse but in reconciliation, and he wrote letters and induced
acquaintances to call upon Mr. White with professions of repentance and
promises of reformation. With his usual considerate and judicious
kindness that gentleman answered him:

"_My dear Edgar_: I cannot address you in such language as this occasion
and my feelings demand: I must be content to speak to you in my plain
way. That you are sincere in all your promises I firmly believe. But when
you once again tread these streets, I have my fears that your resolutions
will fail, and that you will again drink till your senses are lost. If
you rely on your strength you are gone. Unless you look to your Maker for
help you will not be safe. How much I regretted parting from you is known
to Him only and myself. I had become attached to you; I am still; and I
would willingly say return, did not a knowledge of your past life make me
dread a speedy renewal of our separation. If you would make yourself
contented with quarters in my house, or with any other private family,
where