The sight of Richard had swept all the cobwebs out of his brain.
"No, you trifler!--one of Edgar Allan Poe's.

None of your scoffing, sir! You may go home in tears before I am through with you.

This way, both of you." The three had entered the coffee-room now, Richard's arm through St.
George's, Harry following close.

The inventor drew out the chairs one after another, and when they were all three seated took a missive from his pocket and spread it out on his knee, St.George and Harry keeping their eyes on his every movement.
"Here's a letter, St.George"-- Richard's voice now fell to a serious key--"which I have just received from your friend and mine, Mr.N.
P.Willis.In it he sends me this most wonderful poem cut from his paper--the Mirror--and published, I discover to my astonishment, some months back.

I am going to read it to you if you will permit me.