“Oh, indeed!” I said, politely. “Take a chair!” but that unsightly, Not to say dejected Figure, an unwilling manner bore. I remarked, “You seem in sorrow,――still bear up, perhaps to-morrow (Though some trouble has beset you, which at present you deplore) You may meet with better fortune, and be brilliant as of yore.” Quoth the Drama, “Nevermore!” “Why this tone of bitter anguish?” I inquired; “you seem to languish ’Neath some very dreadful burden; state the reason, I implore! Tell me plainly, now, what is it, that has caused this sudden visit―― Why the unexpected entrance of your figure through my door? Why that stagey exclamation that you uttered just before,―― That expression, ‘Nevermore?’” Still it groaned, and I retreated, as that sentence it repeated. “What! again?” I said. “Pray, drop it; though your grief is doubtless sore, _You_ can’t help trash being written for the theatres of Britain And ‘swells’ won’t be _always_ waiting for their ‘pets’ at each stage-door, And ere long the undressed syrens, may be swept away galore.” Quoth the Drama, “Nevermore!” Then the poor old Drama, sneering, took the cue for disappearing,―― And it pulled its mantle round it, and stalked slowly to the door―― And its groan was something fearful, as it said in accents tearful, As it sadly bent its optics on the carpet-covered floor―― “Look here, old poetic party, I shall bet you ten to four,―― ’Twill be better, Nevermore!―― That is, hardly evermore!” H. C. N. _The Entr’acte_, February 11, 1882. ―――――――― A VOICE. In the dusk, within my chamber, I sat and sadly pondered―― Pondered o’er life’s problems with my hand upon my brow. “When,” I asked, “will adverse fortune cease to torment and oppress me?” A voice from out the window, shrill and piercing, answered, “_Now!_” Thrilled and startled by the answer, coming from an unknown being, I said again: “If blessing is in store, oh tell me how Release will come, and joy and peace? Say, when, when will it be?” And through the open casement promptly came the answer “_N-n-now!_” Half in fear and half in frenzy, for methought the being mocked me, I said: “Unlock the mystery of my fate, or else I vow To curse thee for thy falseness. Tell me when I shall have blessing.” The weird, shrill voice responded still, as ever, only “_N-n-ow-w!_” To my feet I sprang in anger, flinging wide the casement shutter: “Djinn!” I shrieked, “or devil, or angelic being thou _Shalt_ say when peace wilt come and joy to calm my troubled spirit!” The cat upon the moonlit shed below responded “_N-a-ow-w-w!_” _Free Press Flashes_, 1883. ――――――――