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Updated: May 18, 2025
It was at her Brooklyn home that he read The Raven before it was published, and Estella Lewis was the last friend he visited before he left New York on the journey south which ended in his death. On the "Poe nights," too, Ann S. Stephens was usually to be found at Miss Lynch's. She became a much-read novelist, writing Fashion and Famine and Mary Derwent.
There was a glass lamp with a badly smoked chimney, a pack of cards, a sack of smoking tobacco and a box of matches. There was a tin box with spools of very coarse thread, some equally coarse needles and a pair of scissors. There was also and Miss Whitmore gasped when she saw it a pile of much-read magazines with the latest number of her favorite upon the top.
I now went to his house daily at six o'clock in the evening, and always experienced a secret pleasure when the outer door closed behind me, and I had to thread the long, dark cloister-passage. We sat in his library, at a table covered with oil-cloth, a much-read Lucian never quitting his side.
The instant she cast her eyes on that much-read paper, she saw the name of Colonel D'Aubigny; all the rest swam before her eyes. Lady Castlefort, without looking up from her writing, asked What day of the month? Cecilia could not answer, but recalled to herself by the sound of the voice, she now tried to read she scarcely read the words, but some way took the sense into her mind at a glance.
In the "Filioque" controversy, once dear to Liddon and to Gladstone, now, I suppose, obsolete for the English mind, but which relates to the chief dividing tenet of East from West, he showed an interest humorous rather than reverent; took pains to acquaint himself with the views held on it by Dollinger and the old Catholics; noted with amusement the perplexity of London ladies as to the meaning of the word when quoted in the much-read "Quarterly" article, declaring their belief to be that it was a clergyman's baby born out of wedlock.
The much-read boy was a little shocked, no doubt disturbed in his secret soul that the poet so far above any other poet that was to be seen about the world in those days should not have known that verse: though indeed men better read than Burns might have been excused for their want of acquaintance with a minor poet like Langhorne; but how true was the indignant observation, half angry, that with "twenty times the ability" it was Allan Ramsay and the still less important unfortunate young Fergusson to whom Burns looked up!
The book was opened the leaves, drab with age, being quite worn away at much-read verses by the forefingers of unpractised readers in former days, where they were moved along under the line as an aid to the vision. They slightly thrilled and abashed her. It was Wisdom in the abstract facing Folly in the concrete.
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