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his duties, and occasionally a scene of violence and difficulty. Time
went on, however, and he was invariably punctual and industrious. With
his pale, beautiful, and intellectual face, as a reminder of what genius
was in him, it was impossible, of course, not to treat him always with
deferential courtesy, and, to our occasional request that he would not
probe too deep in a criticism, or that he would erase a passage colored
too highly with his resentments against society and mankind, he readily
and courteously assented-far more yielding than most men, we thought,
on points so excusably sensitive. With a prospect of taking the lead in
another periodical, he, at last, voluntarily gave up his employment
with us, and, through all this considerable period, we had seen but
one presentment of the man-a quiet, patient, industrious, and most
gentlemanly person, commanding the utmost respect and good feeling by
his unvarying deportment and ability.
Residing as he did in the country, we never met Mr. Poe in hours of
leisure; but he frequently called on us afterward at our place of
business, and we met him often in the street-invariably the same sad
mannered, winning and refined gentleman, such as we had always known
him. It was by rumor only, up to the day of his death, that we knew of
any other development of manner or character. We heard, from one who
knew him well (what should be stated in all mention of his lamentable
irregularities), that, with a single glass of wine, his whole nature
was reversed, the demon became uppermost, and, though none of the
usual signs of intoxication were visible, his will was palpably insane.
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