MARGINALIA. BY EDGAR A. POE. that ONE of the happiest examples, in a small way, of it at New York, within a few miles of which city the carrying-one's-self-in-a-hand-basket logic, is to be the affair took place, and where consequently the most ready means must be found for its authentication found in a London weekly paper called "The Popular or disproval. The initials of the medical men and Record of Modern Science; a Journal of Philosophy of the young medical student must be sufficient in and General Information." This work has a vast the immediate locality, to establish their identity, circulation, and is respected by eminent men. Some had been so long ill as to render it out of the question especially as M. Valdemar was well known, and time in November, 1815, it copied from the "Colum- that there should be any difficulty in ascertaining the bian Magazine" of New York, a rather adventurous names of the physicians by whom he had been article of mine, called "Mesmeric Revelation." It under whose cognizance the case must have come attended. In the same way the nurses and servants had the impudence, also, to spoil the title by improving during the seven months which it occupied, are of it to "The Last Conversation of a Somnambule"-a course accessible to all sorts of inquiries. It will. phrase that is nothing at all to the purpose, since the therefore, appear that there must have been too many parties concerned to render prolonged deception pracperson who "converses" is not a somnambule. He ticable. The angry excitement and various rumors is a sleep-waker-not a sleep-walker; but I presume which have at length rendered a public statement The Record" thought it was only the difference necessary, are also sufficient to show that something of an . What I chiefly complain of, however, is hand there is no strong point for disbelief. The cirextraordinary must have taken place. On the other that the London editor prefaced my paper with these cumstances are, as the Post says, 'wonderful; but words:-"The following is an article communicated so are all circumstances that come to our knowledge to the Columbian Magazine, a journal of respectability for the first time--and in Mesmerism every thing is new. An objection may be made that the article and influence in the United States, by Mr. Edgar A. has rather a Magazinish air; Mr. Poe having eviPoe. It bears internal evidence of authenticity."! dently written with a view to effect, and so as to There is no subject under heaven about which the mysterious and the horrible which such a case. excite rather than to subdue the vague appetite for funnier ideas are, in general, entertained than about under any circumstances, is sure to awaken-but this subject of internal evidence. It is by "internal apart from this there is nothing to deter a philosophic evidence," observe, that we decide upon the mind. mind from further inquiries regarding it. It is a But to "The Record:"-On the issue of my "Val-view we shall take steps to procure from some of the matter entirely for testimony. So it is.] Under this demar Case," this journal copies it, as a matter of course, and (also as a matter of course) improves the title, as in the previous instance. But the editorial comments may as well be called profound. Here they are: "The following narrative appears in a recent number of The American Magazine, a respectable periodical in the United States. It comes, it will be observed, from the narrator of the 'Last Conversation of a Somnambule,' published in The Record of the 20th of November. In extracting this case the Morning Post of Monday last, takes what it considers the safe side, by remarking-For our own parts we do not believe it; and there are several Statements made, more especially with regard to the disease of which the patient died, which at once prove the case to be either a fabrication, or the work of one little acquainted with consumption. The story, however, is wonderful, and we therefore give it. The editor, however, does not point out the especial statements which are inconsistent with what we know of the progress of consumption, and as few scientific persons would be willing to take their pathology any more than their logic from the Morning Post, his caution, it is to be feared, will not have much weight. The reason assigned by the Post for publishing the account is quaint, and would apply equally to an adventure from Baron Munchausen :it is wonderful and we therefore give it.' The above case is obviously one that cannot be received except on the strongest testimony, and it is equally clear that the testimony by which it is at present accompanied, is not of that character. The most favorable circumstances in support of it, consist in the fact that credence is understood to be given to most intelligent and influential citizens of New York all the evidence that can be had upon the subject. No February, but within a few weeks of that time we steamer will leave England for America till the 3d of doubt not it will be possible to lay before the readers of the Record information which will enable them to come to a pretty accurate conclusion." Yes; and no doubt they came to one accurate enough, in the end. But all this rigmarole is what people call testing a thing by "internal evidence." The Record insists upon the truth of the story because of certain facts-because "the initials of the young men must be sufficient to establish their identity"because "the nurses must be accessible to all sorts of inquiries"-and because the "angry excitement and various rumors which at length rendered a public statement necessary, are sufficient to show that something extraordinary must have taken place. "' To be sure! The story is proved by these factsthe facts about the students, the nurses, the excitement, the credence given the tale at New York. And now all we have to do is to prove these facts. Ah!-they are proved by the story. As for the Morning Post, it evinces more weakness in its disbelief than the Record in its credulity. What the former says about doubting on account of inaccuracy in the detail of the phthisical symptoms, is a mere fetch, as the Cockneys have it, in order to make a very few little children believe that it, the Post, is not quite so stupid as a post proverbially is. THERE is a lake whose lilies lie So pale, so cold, so motionless No Djinn, no Ghoul, no Afrit laves And gaze, with blank, cavernous eyes A stone-cast from the sombre strand Among the trees whose shadows wake, That stand, like statues of the Past, And will, while that ebony lake shall last. But when the more than Stygian night Descends with slow and owl-like flight, Silent as Death (who comes-we know NUBIAN GEOGRAPHER. "The Sleepers." POE. EPITAPH ON A RESTLESS LADY. THE gates were unbarred-the home of the blest She turned from the ange's to flee, Saying, "Rest is no Heaven to me!" MY LADY-HELP. OR AUNT LINA'S VISIT. BY ENNA DUVAL. "You are in want of an efficient person to assist you in taking charge of your domestic affairs, Enna," said a maiden aunt of mine to me one evening. I pulled my little sewing-table toward me with a slight degree of impatience, and began very earnestly to examine the contents of my work-box, that I might not express aloud my weariness of my aunt's favorite subject. I had been in want of just such an article as an "efficient person" ever since I had taken charge of my father's ménage; and after undergoing almost martyrdom with slip-shod, thriftless, good-fornothing "help," as we Americans, with such delicate consideration, term our serving maids, I had come to the conclusion that indifferent "help" was an unavoidable evil, and that the best must be made of the poor, miserable instruments of assistance vouchsafed unto the race of tried, vexed housekeepers. "I have just thought," continued my aunt, " of a very excellent person that will suit you in every way. Lizzie Hall, the one I was thinking of, has never been accustomed to living out. Her father is a farmer in our place, but having made a second marriage, and with a young family coming up around him, Lizzie very properly wishes to do something for herself. I remember having heard her express such a desire; and I have no doubt I could persuade her to come to you. She is not very young-about eight-and-twenty, or thereabouts." I listened to my Aunt Lina's talk with, it must be confessed, indifference, mingled with a little sullenness, and quieted my impatience by inward ejaculations-a vast deal of good do those inward conversations produce, such mollifiers of the temper are they. "So, so," said I to myself, "my Aunt Lina's paragon is a lady-help. Of all kinds of help' the very one I have endeavored most to avoid; it is such a nondescript kind of creature that lady-help;" and as I soliloquized, recollections of specimens of the kind I had been afflicted with, came in sad array before my memory-maids with slip-shod French kid slippers, that had never been large enough for their feet-love-locks on either side of their cheeks, twirled up during the day in brown curl-papersfaded lawn dresses, with dangling flounces and tattered edging; then such sentimental entreaties that I should not make them answer the door-bell if Ike, the black boy, might happen to be away on some errand, or expose them to the rude gaze of the multitude in the market-house; and I groaned in spirit as I thought what a troublesome creature the "ladyhelp" was to manage. During this sympathizing colloquy with myself, my aunt went on expatiating most eloquenly on the merits of her protégé, Lizz.e Hall. Some pause occurring-for want of breath, I really believe, on my aunt's side-good-breeding seemed to require a remark from me, and I faltered out some objection as to the accommodations a city household afforded for a person of Lizzie Hall's condition. "Of course," said my aunt, "she will not wish to sit at the same table with the black servants you may happen to have; but Lizzie will not cause you any trouble on the score of accommodations, I'll answer for it, Enna; she is too sensible a person not to fully understand the difference between town and country habits-and if you say so, I will engage her for you when I return to Rockland." My father, who had been dozing over his paper. gradually aroused himself as this conversation progressed, and as my aunt made the last proposition, he entered into it most cordially, and begged she would endeavor to procure the young woman, and send her by the earliest opportunity. I remained quietfor I could not say any thing heartily, seeing nothing but vexation and annoyance in the whole affair for me. The young woman was evidently a favorite with my Aunt Lina; and should she not prove a very useful or agreeable maid to me, I would receive but little sympathy from my immediate family. My father is as ignorant as a child of what we poor house. keepers require in a domestic; and my Aunt Lina, though kind-hearted and well-wishing, is in equally as blissful a state. A very indifferent servant, who happened to please her fancy, she would magnify into a very excellent one; then, being rather opinionative and "set," as maiden ladies are apt to be when they pass the fatal threshold of forty, I despaired of ever convincing her to the contrary. "However," said I to myself, "I will not anticipate trouble." I had just recovered from a dangerous fit of illness, through which my kind, well-meaning aunt had patiently nursed me. At the first news of my sickness she had, unsummoned, left her comfortable home in Rockland, in mid-winter, and had crossed the mountains to watch beside the feverish pillow of her motherless niece. Careful and kind was her nursing; and even the physicians owned that to her patient watchfulness I owed my life. How grateful was I; and with what looks of love did I gaze on her trim, spinster figure, as she moved earnestly and pains-taking around my chamber; but, alas! the kitchen told a different story when I was well enough to make my appearance there. Biddy, a raw, bewildered-looking Irish girl, with huge red arms and stamping feet, had quite lost her confused, stupid expression of countenance, and was most eloquent in telling me, with all the volubility of our sex, of the quare ways of the ould maid." "Sure, and if the ould sowl could only have had a husband and a parcel of childthers to mind, she wouldn't have been half so stiff and concated," exclaimed Biddy. Even poor little roguish Ike, with mischief enough in his composition to derange a dozen well-ordered houses, looked wise and quiet when my prim, demure aunt came in sight. Complaints met me on all sides, however, for my Aunt Lina was quite as dissatisfied as the rest. daily labors-if all this was carefully and quietly provided for him, what need of his knowing how it was done, or what straits I might be driven to sometimes, from my own thoughtlessness or forgetfulness to accomplish these comforts for him. I had always scrupulously avoided talking of my household affairs before him; but when Aunt Lina discoursed so eloquently and learnedly in his presence, slipping in once in a while such high-sounding words as "domestic economy," "well-ordered household,” “proper distribution of time and labor," &c., &c., he began to prick up his ears, and fancy his thrifty little daughter Enna was not quite so excellent in her management as he had blindly dreamed. Poor man! his former ignorance had surely been bliss, for his unfortunate knowledge only made him look vexed and full of care whenever he entered the house. He even noted the door-handles, as to their brightness, rated poor Ike about the table appointments, and told how he managed in his business, and how we should manage in ours. I was almost distraught with annoyance; and, kind as my aunt had been, I wished for the time of her departure silently, but as earnestly as did my servants. Heaven pardon me for my inhospitality and ingratitude. "I found them all wrong, my dear," she said, "no order, no regulation, every thing at sixes and sevens; and as for the woman Biddy, she is quite, quite incorrigible. I showed her a new way of preparing her clothes for the wash, by which she could save a deal of labor; but all in vain, she persisted most obsti-pointed out when and how work should be done— nately to follow the old troublesome way. Then she confuses her work altogether in such a manner that I never can tell at which stage of labor she has arrived; and when I put them all en traine, and leave them a few instants, I find on my return every thing as tangled as ever. Method is the soul of housekeeping, Enna. You will never succeed without order. I fear you are too easy and indulgent; although I have never kept a house, I know exactly how it should be done. A place for every thingevery thing in its place, as your grandpapa used to say. If you insist upon your servants doing every thing at a certain hour, and in a certain way, your affairs will go on like clock-work.” I could not but assent to all these truisms-for I felt conscience-stricken. I knew I had always depended in all my housekeeping emergencies too much on my "talent for improvising," as Kate Wilson merrily entitles my readiness in a domestic tangle and stand-still. I had been in the habit of letting things go on as easily as possible, scrupulously avoiding domestic tempests, because they deranged my nervous system; and if I found a servant would not do a thing in my way, I would let her accomplish it in her own manner, and at her own time-so that it was done, that was all I required. I felt almost disheartened as the remarks of my precise aunt proved to me how remiss I had been, and resolved in a very humble mood to reform. But when Aunt Lina continued her conversations about the mismanagement before my father, then I felt the "old Adam" stir within me. There she surely was wrong. I could not bear he should have his eyes opened; he had always fancied me a little queen in my domestic arrangements-why should he think differently-what good did it do? If he found his dinner nicely cooked and served, his tea and toast snugly arranged in the library, in the evening, when he returned wearied from his office, with his dressing-gown and slippers most temptingly spread out; then awakened in the morning in a clean, well-ordered bed-room, with Ike at his elbow to wait his orders, and a warm, cozy breakfast to strengthen him ere he started out on his "Now, Lina," said my father, the morning she left, "do n't forget the woman you were speaking of. Enna needs some experienced person to keep things in order We shall have to break up housekeeping if affairs go on in this disordered state. I do not know how we have stood it thus long." I opened my eyes but said not a word. Three months before and my father had been the happiest, free-from-care man in the city; now the little insight he had gained into domestic affairs-the peep behind the curtain given him by my mistaken maiden aunt, had served to embitter his existence, surrounding his path with those nettles of life, household trifles, vulgar cares and petty annoyances. I almost echoed Biddy's ejaculation as the carriage drove from the door with my aunt and her numberless boxes, each one arranged on a new, orderly, time-saving plan. "Sure, and its glad I am, that the ould craythur is fairly off-for divil a bit of comfort did she give the laste of us with her time-saving orderly ways. And it's not an owld maid ye must ever be, darlint Miss Enna, or ye 'll favor the troublesome aunty with her tabby notions." Ike shouted with glee, and turned somersets all the way through the hall into the back entry, regardless of all I could say; and the merriment and light heartedness that pervaded the whole house was most cheering. Biddy stamped and put her work in a greater confusion than ever; and Ike dusted the blinds from the top to the bottom in a "wholesale way," as he called it, and cleaned the knives on the wrong side of the Bath-brick to his heart's content. Every one, even the dumb animals, seemed conscious of Aunt Lina's departure My little pet kitten, Norah, resumed her place by the side of the heater in the library, starting once in a while in her dreams and springing up as though she heard the rustle of Aunt Lina's gown, or the sharp, clear notes | She had no regular set ways about her, but worked of her voice-but coiled herself down with a con- unceasingly from morning till night in every depart soling "pur," as she saw only "little me" laughing ment in the house. Not a week passed before I heard at her fears and my little darling spaniel Flirt laid Biddy, with her Irish enthusiasm, calling on Heaven in my lap, nestled on the foot of my bed, and romped to bless the "darlint." She was always ready to all over the house to his perfect satisfaction. I excuse Biddy's thriftlessness and Ike's mischief, should have been as happy as the rest also, if it had helping them on in their duties constantly. Good not been for the anticipation that weighed down on Lizzie Hall! every one in the house loved her. me, of the expected pattern-card-my lady-help. Yes, indeed, my dear housekeeping reader, all Soon after my aunt's return home I received a doubtful as you look, I had at last obtained that letter from her, announcing with great gratification paragon, so seldom met with a good, efficient serher success. The letter was filled with a long vant. Lizzie lived with me many years, and when preachment on household management, which my I parted with her, as I had to at last, I felt certain, father read very seriously, pronouncing his sister I had had my share of good "help"-that her place Lina a most excellent, sensible woman, possessing would never be supplied. more mind and judgment than did most of her sex. My aunt wound up her letter, saying 66 Lizzie grew very fond of me, and ere she had lived with us many months told me her whole history. Poor girl, without beauty, without mental attractions, of an humble station, and slender abilities, her life-woof had in it the glittering thread of ro But you will have little order and regulation about your house so long as you keep that thriftless Biddy in it. Take my advice and tramp her off bag and baggage before Lizzie comes, for, from my ac-mance-humble romance, but romance still it was. count of her, Lizzie is not very favorably disposed toward her." Lizzie's father was a farmer, owning a small farm in the part of the country where my Aunt Lina resided His first wife, Lizzie's mother, was an heiress aecording to her station, bringing her husband on ber marriage some hundreds of dollars, which enabled Here was a pretty state of affairs to be sure, not very agreeable to a young housekeeper who had hitherto been her own mistress-my new maid was to dictate to me even my own domestic arrange-him to purchase his little farm, and stock it. They ments. My father was earnest in wishing to dispose of Biddy-but on that point, though quiet, I was resolute in opposition. Poor warm-hearted Biddy, with all her stupid thriftless ways, I could not find in my heart to turn away, and as my chambermaid wanted to go to her relations in the "back states," as she called the great West, I proposed to Biddy to take her place, so soon as the new woman should make her appearance. "If she's like the aunty of ye," said Biddy when we concluded this arrangement and were talking of the expected new comer. "I'll wish her all the bad luck in the world, for it's hot wather she 'll kape us in all the time with her painstakings." Not in a very pleasant frame of mind I awaited the arrival of my new domestic. Poor girl, there was no one to welcome her when she at last came, and she stepped into the kitchen without one kind feeling advancing to greet her. Biddy's warm Irish heart was completely closed against her, and Ike, the saucy rogue, pursed up his thick lips in a most comical manner when she appeared. But how my heart smote me when I first looked at the pale, care-worn, sad-looking creature. She was not pretty-her face bore the marks of early care and trial. She might have been well-favored in girlhood, but if so, those good looks had completely vanished. Her eyes were dim, her cheek hollow, and her brow was marked with lines stamped by endurance; her whole person thin and spare, with hard, toil-worn hands, and large feet, showed that labor and sorrow had been her constant companions. And how unjust had been our hasty judgment of her-for so far from proving to be the troublesome, fault-finding, airs-taking, lady-help I had fearfully anticipated, I found her amiable, yielding and patiently industrious. labored morning, noon, and night, unceasingly. Lizzie's mother was a thrifty, careful body; but, unfortunately, she had more industry than constitu tion; and when Lizzie was seventeen, her mother was fast sinking into the grave, a worn-out creature. borne down by hard labor and sickness. Nine children had she, and of them Lizzie was the eldest and only girl. What sorrow for a dying mother! Before her mother's last sickness, Lizzie was "wooed and won" by the best match in the place. James Foster, her lover, was a young farmer, an orphan, but well off in life. He owned a handsome, well-stocked farm, and was a good-looking, excellent young man. Both father and mother cheerfully gave their consent, but insisted that their engagement should last a year or so, until Lizzie might be older. As Mrs. Hall felt death approaching, she looked around on the little family she was to leave motherless behind her; and with moving, heart-rending entreaties, besought of Lizzie not to leave them. "Stay with your father, my child," she urged; "James, if he loves you, will wait for you. Don't marry until the boys are all old enough to be out of trouble. Think, Lizzie, of the misery a step-mother might cause with your brother Jack's impetuous temper, and Sam's hopeless, despairing disposition each one would be hard for a step-mother to guide. Be a mother to them, my girl; down on your knees, and to make your mother's heart easy, promise before God that you will guide them, and watch over them as long as you are needed. Stay with your father, and Heaven will bless you, as does your dying mother." Willingly did the almost heart-broken girl give the required promise-and James Foster loved her all the better for it. She wept bitter, heart-aching tears |