I would much rather," concluded the poet, "you would forget all that I have ever written than that you should forget what I tell you about having a safety-valve." "And now do you know," smilingly said the poet, "about the Charles River here ?" as they returned to his study and stood before the large bay window.

"I love this river," he said.

"Yes, I love it," he repeated; "love it in summer or in winter." And then he was quiet for a minute or so.
Edward asked him which of his poems were his favorites.
"Well," he said musingly, "I think 'The Chambered Nautilus' is my most finished piece of work, and I suppose it is my favorite.

But there are also 'The Voiceless,' 'My Aviary,' written at this window, 'The Battle of Bunker Hill,' and 'Dorothy Q,' written to the portrait of my great-grandmother which you see on the wall there.

All these I have a liking for, and when I speak of the poems I like best there are two others that ought to be included--'The Silent Melody' and 'The Last Leaf.' I think these are among my best."' "What is the history of 'The Chambered Nautilus' ?" Edward asked.
"It has none," came the reply, "it wrote itself.