Text: Anonymous, “Something New About Poe,” Brooklyn Daily Times (Brooklyn, NY), June 9, 1870, p. 1, cols. 6-7

[page 1, column 6, continued:]

The following incident was related by a member of the Baltimore bar, who at the time of its occurrence was but recently admitted to practice. The truth of the statement may be depended on and even the conversation introduced I give, I think, nearly word for word as reported to me:

At the period referred to there were several single-storied houses on the east side of St. Paul street, between Lexington and Saratoga streets, each of which contained but two rooms. They were rather massively — according to the present ideas — constructed of brick, but have been for a long time displaced by tall and stately buildings. One of these single-storied houses was occupied by my informant. The front apartment was used as a law office, the rear as a sleeping room.

One calm, clear moonlight winter night, when the snow lay deep upon the city streets and roofs, Mr. —— was making preparations to retire to bed, when the front door-bell was rung. He aroused his negro servant boy, who was nodding on his stool by the chimney corner, and sent him to open the door to the late visitor. The boy almost immediately returned alone. He said that nobody was at the door, but that a gentleman was standing in the snow in the middle of the street, talking to himself and tossing his arms about.

Mr. —— now went to the front door himself. When he opened it he found one who was evidently a gentleman — he could see that by the moonlight — standing on the pavement facing him.

“Was it you who rang my bell?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” was the reply. “I owe you an apology for disturbing you at an hour so [column 7:] unseasonable. But the fact is, some thoughts have come into my hand which I wish to commit to paper; and seeing a light in your back window” (the house stood upon the corner of an alley,) “and considering it a matter of course that a lawyer's office is supplied with stationery, I took the liberty of ringing your bell.”

“You are very welcome indeed,” said the young lawyer. “Walk in, sir.”

The stranger followed him into the inner apartment, where the bright fire was burning in the grate. The manner of his guest was so impressive of intellect that Mr. —— offered him his bed; but the visitor only asked the use of a chair, table and writing materials. So the negro boy lay down upon his pallet on the floor, and the young lawyer retired to his bed, leaving the stranger bending over the table writing.

When Mr. —— awakened in the morning his strange vistor was sitting in a chair, with his head upon the table, asleep. The motion made by the young lawyer on awakening aroused the stranger. The latter seemed at once to be wide awake. He arose from his seat, thanked his host for his hospitality, and gracefully apologized for his intrusion on the previous night. He was then about to leave the room.

“You are forgetting your manuscript,” said the young lawyer, pointing to some pieces of paper on the table.”

“I have a copy of what I have composed,” said the stranger, “and leave the original with you as an acknowledgement [[acknowledgment]] of your kindness under circumstances so trying.”

The stranger left. The lawyer did not know until a long time afterward, when the song of “The Bells” — of which he still has the original — had been published and became famous, that his singular visitor was Edgar A. Poe.