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Updated: May 8, 2025
"Could he have known about Lorna Barton going out with Baxter that night Shepard was beaten?" "My Gaud! Yes, cause Baxter he tells me Burke was dere at de house." Clemm nodded his head. "Then you can take a hundred to one shot tip from me, Jimmie, that this Burke had something to do with Shepard. He may have put one of his friends on the job.
Down in one of the pretty valleys was the home of Cousin Jennie, that Hanny always connected with Mrs. Clemm and the poet. All about were green fields and orchards, hills and valleys. Between them and the Harlem lay a high wooded ridge from whose top you could see the Hudson, and the Harlem was like a cord winding in and out of green valleys.
This and more he wrote, in kind, encouraging vein, and closed his letter with a friendly invitation: "Write to me frequently, and believe me very truly "Yours, The same post that brought Mr. Kennedy's letter brought The Dreamer other mail from Baltimore brought him letters from both Virginia and Mother Clemm. They had an especial reason for writing, each said.
Mother Clemm noiselessly passing near him to snuff a candle on the table upon which his elbow, propping his head, rested, paused for a moment and laid a caressing hand upon his hair. He impulsively drew her down to a seat beside him. "Oh, Muddie, Muddie, look at her look at her!" he whispered. "There is no one anywhere so beautiful as my little wife!
I shall always feel sorry all my life that Stanley and I were off fishing on the windward side of the island and thereby missed Clemm's arrival in the lagoon, which was well over before we got there, with the stern of a ten-oared boat heading for a man-of-war, and Clemm himself standing kind of helpless on the beach in the midst of all his chests and boxes and bedding.
One day he copied "Ulalume" upon a long, narrow slip of paper and rolled it into one of the tight little rolls that all the editors knew and Mother Clemm made a pilgrimage to the city especially on account of it. First she tried it at The Union Magazine, which promptly rejected it. It was too "queer" the editor said.
Clemm occupied the seat nearest the door opening on the kitchen, that she might slip as unobtrusively as possible out and back again when necessary; but most of the serving was done by the guests themselves, each of whom helped the dish nearest his or her plate, and passed the plates from hand to hand. All of the supper, save the dessert and fresh supplies of hot waffles was on the table.
Under the influence of the shock his heart became all tenderness and regret. He hurriedly packed his carpet-bag, kissed Mrs. Clemm and Virginia goodbye, and set out post-haste for Richmond and the homestead on Main and Fifth Streets. He did not stop to lift the brass knocker this time.
A portly woman, adorned in willow plumes, sealskin cloak and wearing large rhinestones in her rings and necklace, now entered at the manager's signal. "Well, Madame Blanche, what have you to report?" "I swear I ain't had no luck, Mr. Clemm. Some one's put the gipsy curse on me. Twice this afternoon in the park I've seen two pretty girls, and each time I got chased by a cop. I got warned.
Virginia was Poe's ideal of womanhood, and we find her figuring as the model for nearly all the heroines of his poems. In a letter after the death of both Virginia and her poet husband, Mrs. Clemm wrote, "She was an excellent linguist and a perfect musician, and she was very beautiful.
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