The writer, having graduated, left the Academy in 1834, and, while visiting a friend in Baltimore in the fall of that year, was asked by a casual acquaintance if he knew Edgar Allan Poe, who had informed the gentleman alluded to that he was acquainted with me. On responding in the affirmative, I was told that Poe was then working in a brick-yard in Baltimore, being engaged in wheeling clay in a wheelbarrow. This may throw light on that part of his history immediately after his leaving the Academy. R. T. P. A. (R. T. P. Allen, of the Class of 1834, late Superintendent of Kentucky Military Institute.) Faithless. I WONDER if it seems as long To you; three years have passed, or more, The graceful gesture of your hand, Was weak, or that my thoughts you read, Fast fell the rain; the pallid moon H. B. The Literary Assistance Bureau. Mr. H. R. E., of New Haven, writes to us, confidentially, that while recently engaged upon an American novel, he received the following communication by mail. As the circular is a private one, our readers will please say nothing about it: (PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL.) The Metropolitan Literary Assistance Bureau, learning that you were engaged on a work of fiction, and appreciating the vast difficulty as well as importance of the career you have undertaken, respectfully submit the claims of their establishment for your consideration. Our business has flourished for many years, and we can show testimonials from the most successful novelists of the day as to our honesty and efficiency. We pledge you our perfect integrity, and we expect from you, in return, inviolate good faith. Be pleased, then, to consider this communication expressly confidential. Knowing the difficulties which beset the conception and execution of fiction, we have collected at great expense all the materials for the novelist's work that he can possibly need. We ask your attention to the following goods. Our stock of heroes and heroines is large and well assorted. The line of heroes includes all grades and shades of young We man, college graduate, curate, peasant, poet, etc., etc. deal as well in all standard heroes of a ripe or advanced age. We have only recently added three rescuers from burning buildings, one honest bank clerk, and other novelties. We show a prime lot of heroines, with or without sheeny hair. We have the lovely but wayward, the homely but interesting (freckled, lame, one-eyed, red-haired, pock-marked and consumptive), the fascinating, innocent, etc. One fine heroine with a hump, who dies young-a great favorite. We have, too, all the common and many rare scoundrels, braggarts, misers, and eccentrics. No author in want of villains should fail to examine this department. All these characters sold either with or without appropriate names. You may wish to know more definitely with regard to some of our specialties, yet we can scarcely discriminate amid such a wealth of stock. We call your attention, however, to the following. Ex pede Herculem. A very old lady with a stoop. Can be used as a scandalmongering old hag of fashion. Has also served as a witch. One fine sailor boy, with a marline-spike to knock down mutineers with. Also, a gross of maritime oaths. A half-pay major to say "Gad." (Companion piece to old lady.) His false teeth drop out very amusingly. A noble red man (cheap, being somewhat dingy, through long disuse). He is six feet and a half high in his moccasins, is of swarthy hue, with eyes which alternately flash like the wild cat and beam softly as the doe. He says "Umph!" whenever squeezed. His rifle, "Hit-peanut-mile-off," is very rare and valuable. A detective. He can find out anything. Has the highest 1 commendations from Wilkie Collins, who knows him intimately. A kitchen-maid with ten smart speeches and four kisses for policemen. Also a dairy-maid with a fine color and pretty ankles. This pair are very old, but far from decrepit. They both seem to possess wonderful vitality. For those in quest of the aged and infirm, we have a fine old negress, blind and fond of the Scriptures She dies easily after the hero has met the heroine, while the latter is reading to the Afric from the Sacred Word, instead of attending the Ball. A young lord. His locks are raven, and curl; very wicked. A plow-boy, to thwart him. (These two never sold separately.) An Irishman to make bulls; and others too numerous to mention. Our supply of Plots is rich and varied. A complete assortment of Social Wrongs, now so fashionable: Political Corruption, Hospital Mismanagement, Trade Combinations, Ill-Assorted Marriages, etc. Our satires on Fashion have been repeatedly used, and always with the greatest satisfaction. Plots sold whole or in separate incidents. Examine our ScrapBook Department. We have thousands of incidents of Real Life in stock suitable for working over into first-class fiction. Buyers should notice our stock of Difficulties, which includes a rich assortment of Misunderstandings, Family Quarrels, Accidents to life and limb, Shipwrecks, Adventures with Pirates (very choice) and Snakes. Stony-hearted Parents in great variety. A good precipice (somewhat worn). A Cave on the Irish Coast, for smugglers or rescuers from rising tides. Harpsichords, bowers, and moons in profusion. Digressions, an endless variety. Now, when every third chapter of a novel is expected to be an animated sermon, this department of our stock is very popular among the guild. Discussions on morals, philosophy, politics, or society, sold by the page, or single epigram. Come and see us. Quotations, in stock or made to order. Our Thackeray and Shakespeare selections have been often admired. Some prime extracts from obscure authors. Original quotations furnished by the dozen or hundred. In ordering, please state whether they shall be labeled "Anon." or "Old Song." We also keep the standard Scriptural allusions, and have many pleasant references to familiar authors and characters. Also, a good stock of valuable geographical localities, much used, but in perfect repair, such as Louvre, Pall Mall, Ducal Palace, Mer de Glas, etc. Our Manual, the novelist's vade mecum, obviates the necessity of personal travel. NAPLES, ITALY, December 27. Or the many beautiful landscapes which are seen by the European voyager, the harbor of Naples is perhaps the most cherished; and especially_picturesque does it seem to us, this mild December evening, as, having bestowed our traveling effects in the cabin of the stanch ship "Olympus," we go upon deck to obtain a farewell glimpse of the matchless Italian bay. The steamer speeds swiftly oceanward as the evening falls. Immediately before us are multitudes of lanterns and colored signal-lights, dancing like fire-works upon the tall masts of the frequent vessels which fill the harbor; and beyond, shining out clearly in the glare of its household fires, rises afar the crescent city, which encircles the wide harbor; while yet, farther and farther back, upon the distant slopes of surrounding hills, glimmer lonely or clustering fire-fly flashes, which bespeak the frequent villages or solitary homes. As we plow onward, through the thickening gloom we see the grim isles of Ischia and Capri, looming up like dark sentinelsseeming guardians of their beautiful mistress, over whose enchanted life yet more jealously towers the giant Vesuvius. Its purple flames shed a lurid light upon the scene, and from its depths are heard occasional foreboding sounds, like the murmur of discontented voices. But, as we speed far away into the night, the lesser lights die slowly out, like the stars upon the clouding night, and soon little is to be seen but the high, bright, fitful breath of the Vesuvian genii, condensing into massive vapors, which hang, menacing and black, over the unstable habitations which nestle among these treacherous hills. Early morning finds us approaching the Sicilian shores; we are awakened, and by the time we arrive upon deck, our good ship is plunging into the swift and turbulent current of Messina, into whose straits, urged on by the strong south wind, the boisterous sea is surging. ALEXANDRIA, EGYPT, January 1. After a somewhat tedious voyage, the fifth day finds us refreshing ourselves with the luscious oranges of Egypt, while our feverish blood is fanned by the soft breezes which blow upon the African coasts, balmily tempered by the dry winds from the Lybian Deserts. Our disembarkment at Alexandria is, indeed, a grotesque scene. The steamer is surrounded by a multitude of row-boats, whose crews are composed of from two to a dozen men, clad in all colors and forms of raiment, and comprising the various nationalities of the East-the thick-lipped Ethiopian and the curved-nosed Arabian; the acute Greek and the bright Armenian; the long-skirted "fellah" and the full-costumed European guide, who, the health officer permitting, is soon to take charge of us, and worry us through the hubbub of landing. There are no docks, nor even lighters; a wide open harbor, and but these cockleshells of boats to convey us ashore over the tossing waves. After much quarantine and official ceremony, we are, however, glad to embark with even such motley and hooting crews for oarsmen, and are clumsily but safely rowed past numberless ships and quaint old barges toward the low-lying sandbeach, beyond which rises the city of Alexandria,-some modern-looking houses, a few palaces, and an army of wind-mills stretching away down the shore. Happily landed, at length, at the low quay, the mummery of the custom-house over, and safely ensconced in our snug hotel, we begin to realize that we are in Egypt, the land of This and Sesostris; of the Star-gazers; of Isis and Osiris; of Moses and the Pharaohs; of the Bull and the Beetle; of Alexander and the Ptolemies; of the Cat and the Ibis; of the Crocodile and the Mummy; of Cleopatra and Cæsar; the land of obelisks, pyramids, and temples; of the Sphinx; the kingdom of the sun and of eternal summer, where flows the mysterious Nile, upon whose banks well might some epicurean hope to discover eternal life! After much-needed refreshment at one of the two principal hotels, we saunter through the broad avenues of modern Alexandria; and we drop in at the Turkish bazaars, followed by a crowd of oddly shaven donkeys, with still odder names, punched along by the blue-shirted driver boys, who shout out the charms of each beast in a deafening chorus of "ride 'Hankee Dudu,' 'Big Injun,' 'Tom Thumb,' and Prince Charlie;' him bery good donkey; go much fast; you try 'im, Howadji." Guides, too, besiege us in all languages, and throngs of beggars, pleading as only an Egyptian can, for "bucksheesh." The bazaars are a curious congregation of little shops, the passages between them being roofed over with palm-tree mattings to keep out the fierce noonday sun. The merchants, either frantic to sell or decidedly | for the Mussulman's "Musr," the Cairo of apathetic, sit cross-legged upon the counters, and with a stretch of their arm may reach you anything from their stock. We buy some clay pipes made from the Nile mud and much noted for their sweetness, and some genuine "kouranee," and then push on past the boys and the donkeys, the beggars, the peddlers, the dogs, the half-naked men, and the vailed and barefooted women. The dress of the women is a single long gown, not over scrupulously repaired nor too closely confined. But there hangs, also, back from the head a loose sort of wrap, which is bound at the forehead by a kind of brass spring to a long strip called a vail, little of the face being seen save the dark, sunken eyes of the early maturing African maiden; yet their modesty is a matter of the face alone, for the heat is too intense for much clothing,—so much so, that the very young or very old women dispense with this frequently even suffocating vail. Such is, however, the dress only of the lower and larger classes. The higher "fashionables" affect the Turkish modes from Constantinople. They usually ride, and seldom go out unattended; and, whether bestraddling a donkey, their little red, pointed slippers peeping coquettishly out from their baggy trowsers, or reclining in a sedan chair or basket wagon, the bright-colored robes and the dark expressive eyes of the Oriental ladies peeping through their gauzy vails, form a most attractive feature of the Egyptian promenade, as you crowd through the cosmopolitan bazaar. the Frank. Cairo vies with Damascus and Constantinople for the position of the proudest of the Eastern capitals. Replete with the evidences of its former greatness in its ruined yet majestic mosques, its monumental tombs, its mammoth statues, monoliths, sphinxes, and pyramids, the Egyptian capital is not without signs of the great art and enterprise of modern times. Fairy mosques, imposing public buildings, convenient hotels and dwellings, princely palaces and marts of commerce, fitting indications of a new and prosperous metropolis, and springing up as by enchantment upon broad avenues, beautiful parks and graded streets, all attest the wise and progressive government of the beneficent King. The palace of the Viceroy, situated upon the river's bank, is an exquisite structure without, and gorgeously decorated within, and the palace park is a gem of landscape gardening. It is stocked with native and curious animals, and abounds in rare and tropical plants-the orange and the lemontree, the palm, the magnolia, and the century-tree, with all the beautiful flowers which flourish in this genial clime. Our first thoughts are of those mysterious and melancholy monitors of time, the great pyramids and the Sphinx, and we hasten to visit them. But not in the oldtime traditional manner-breakfast by candle-light and an all day's donkey ride, with but an hour for a well-earned lunch at the pyramids. In two hours we are driven in a comfortable barouche down the "Shoobrah," a long avenue, and the fashionable city drive; thence along new, broad, and well-graded highways, skirted with trees, winding through cultivated and well-watered fields, out to the very plateau upon which stand those deathless monuments of an inscrutable and magnificent era. There, in the streets or passages, sits the money-changer, clinking his coppers; he will give you a hatful for a napoleon. There, are venders of corn cake and pumpkin cake, fresh fig and date cake, and all sorts of greasy and dyspeptic edibles; and there are endless arrays of odd things in the shops themselves-from curious idols, scarabees, and crocodiles' teeth, to the antiquated Words cannot picture the sublime effect crooked stick plow; from the delicate of these often described and wonderful structembroidery in silk, to the blue overall stuffures; and our illustration of the Sphinx, as of the commonest quality. A characteristic feature of the picturesque panorama is the long troop of camels, that come swaying, careening through the mart, in file. But we may not tarry too long in the streets of Alexandria. CAIRO, January 5. A rail ride of one hundred and forty miles over the plain of the Delta, and we have exchanged the harbor city, with its column, its obelisks, and its long stretch of sand beach, perfect as it may be, can yet give but a faint expression of the patient dignity of that mysterious being-statue it can scarcely be called. The primeval sphinx-mother of ancient races, she yet stands, care-worn indeed, but calm and forbearing-fit shrine for the pilgrims of the young and impatient peoples of these later times. Returning home, we visit the petrified trees, the interesting tombs of the Mamalukes, and the museums of antiquities. Sunday School Books. We are wholesale dealers in this species of manuscript, which we buy and sell by the thousand, the cord, or the hundred-weight. Writers are notified that the heroine must be lame and die young, or the manuscript will not be considered. Respectfully soliciting your patronage, we remain, Your most obedient servants, The Metropolitan Literary Assistance Bureau, Accompanying the above was: A GENERAL RECIPE FOR A MODERN NOVEL. Stir in a fool to make us laugh! Two heavy villains and a half; A heroine with sheeny hair, Some bloody foot-prints on a floor; A brown stone front; a dingle dell; Serve it up hot;-and the book will sell. A curious slip occurs in a catalogue issued a short time ago by a well-known bookseller. A work on block-printing at the beginning of the fifteenth century, is catalogued, which is said to contain "sixty-nine engravings, either from wood or metal, twelve of which bear inscriptions representing scenes of Christian mythology, figures of patriarchs, saints, devils, and other dignitaries of the Church." Talfourd introduced Dickens to Lady Holland. She hated Americans, and did not want Dickens to visit us. She said, "Why can't you go down to Bristol and see some of the third and fourth rate people, and they'll do just as well." Montaigne was importuned by a sturdy beggar, in good health, to give alms; the philosopher asked him why he begged when so able to work and earn a livelihood. He replied: "If you only knew how lazy I am, you would have pity on me!" Cheerfulness is the daughter of employment, said Bishop Horne, and I have known a man to come home in high spirits from a funeral, merely because he had had the management of it. In a case of manslaughter, a Somersetshire wit ness thus testified: "He'd a stick and he'd a stick, and he hit he, and he hit he; and if he'd a hit he as hard as he hit he, he'd a killed he, and not he he." During his first success at Drury Lane, Kean overheard a knot of old stage carpenters discussing the various performers of Hamlet they had seen in their day. "Well," said one, "you may talk of Henderson, and Kemble, and this new man; but, give me Bannister's Hamlet. He was always done twenty minutes sooner than any one of 'em." Prof. tells the following: "During the after-dinner talk, the rough specimen for whom I was surveying remarked that mathematics had always seemed a very wonderful thing to him. Thinking to interest him somewhat, I began to illustrate some of the wonders; among others, tried to show him the way in which Neptune was discovered. After some twenty minutes of elaborate explanation, I was somewhat taken aback to hear him say: 'Yes, yes; it is very wonderful, very; but (with a sigh) there's another thing that's allers troubled me, and that is, why you have to carry one for every ten; but, if you don't, 'twon't come out right." "Now, my fellow citizens, let me ask you again whether you will submit to the incendiary incursions of a bonded oligarchy [Cries of 'No,' 'No,' 'Never!', whether you will tamely," etc., etc. |