After struggling for four years in Baltimore, he went to Richmond and became editor of the _Southern Literary Messenger_. He worked very hard in this position, sometimes contributing to a single number as much as forty pages of matter, mostly editorials and criticisms of books. In Baltimore he had tested his power of writing short stories, but in Richmond his work laid the foundation of his reputation as a literary critic. While here, he married his cousin, Virginia Clemm. Perhaps it was irregular habits that caused him to lose the profitable editorship of the _Messenger_ soon after he married. Let us remember, however, that his mother-in-law was charitable enough not to unveil his weakness. "At home," she said, "he was as simple and affectionate as a child." [Illustration: POE'S COTTAGE, FORDHAM, NEW YORK] The principal part of the rest of his life was passed in Philadelphia and New York, where he served as editor of various periodicals and wrote stories and poems. In the former city, he wrote most of the tales for which he is to-day famous. With the publication of his poem, _The Raven_, in New York in 1845, he reached the summit of his fame. In that year he wrote to a friend, "_The Raven_ has had a great 'run'--but I wrote it for the express purpose of running--just as I did _The Gold Bug_, you know. The bird beat the bug, though, all hollow." And yet, in spite of his fame, he said in the same year, "I have made no money. I am as poor now as ever I was in my life." The truth was that it would then have been difficult for the most successful author to live even in the North without a salaried position, and conditions were worse in the South. Like Hawthorne, Poe tried to get a position in a customhouse, but failed. [Illustration: VIRGINIA CLEMM] He moved to an inexpensive cottage in Fordham, a short distance from New York City, where he, his wife, and mother-in-law found themselves in 1846 in absolute want of food and warmth. The saddest scene in which any great American author figured was witnessed in that cottage in "the bleak December," when his wife, Virginia, lay dying in the bitter cold. Because there was insufficient bed clothing to keep her warm, Poe gave her his coat and placed the family cat upon her to add its warmth. Her death made him almost completely irresponsible. The stunning effect of the blow may be seen in the wandering lines of _Ulalume_ (1847). The end came to him in Baltimore in 1849, the same year in which he wrote the beautiful dirge of _Annabel Lee_ for his dead wife. He was only forty when he died. This greatest literary genius of the South was buried in Baltimore in a grave that remained unmarked for twenty-six years. In anticipation of his end, he had written the lines:-- "And oh! of all tortures,-- _That_ torture the worst Has abated--the terrible Torture of thirst For the napthaline river Of Passion accurst:-- I have drank of a water That quenches all thirst."