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true point of honor. He had, to a morbid excess, that, desire to rise
which is vulgarly called ambition, but no wish for the esteem or the
love of his species; only the hard wish to succeed-not shine, not
serve--succeed, that he might have the right to despise a world which
galled his self-conceit.
"
We have suggested the influence of his aims and vicissitudes upon his
literature. It was more conspicuous in his later than in his
earlier writings. Nearly all that he wrote in the last two or three
years-including much of his best poetry-was in some sense biographical;
in draperies of his imagination, those who had taken the trouble to
trace his steps, could perceive, but slightly concealed, the figure of
himself."
Apropos of the disparaging portion of the above well-written sketch, let
us truthfully say:
Some four or five years since, when editing a daily paper in this
city, Mr. Poe was employed by us, for several months, as critic and
sub-editor. This was our first personal acquaintance with him. He
resided with his wife and mother at Fordham, a few miles out of town,
but was at his desk in the office, from nine in the morning till the
evening paper went to press. With the highest admiration for his genius,
and a willingness to let it atone for more than ordinary irregularity,
we were led by common report to expect a very capricious attention to
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