The knotty point here was in the word "lining"--a blunder obvious to every reader. Poe said that the only way he could see of getting over the difficulty was by omitting the whole stanza. But he was unwilling to give up that "violet velvet" chair, which, with the "purple silken curtain," he considered a picturesque adjunct to the scene, imparting to it a character of luxury which served as a relief to the more sombre surroundings. I had so often heard this impossible "lining" criticised that when he inquired, "Shall I omit or retain the stanza?" I ventured to suggest that it might be better to give up the stanza than have the poem marred by a defect so conspicuous. For a moment he held the pencil poised, as if in doubt, and I have since wondered what would have been his decision. But just here we were interrupted by the tumultuous entrance of my little dog, Pink, in hot pursuit of the family cat. The latter took refuge beneath the table at which we were seated, and there ensued a brisk exchange of duelistic passes, until I called off Pink and Mr. Poe took up the cat and, placing her on his knee, stroked her soothingly, inquiring if she were my pet. Upon my disclaiming any partiality for felines, he said, "I like them," and continued his gentle caressing. (Was he thinking of _Catalina_, his wife's pet cat, which he had left at home at Fordham, and which after her death had sat upon his shoulder as he wrote far into the night? Recalling his grave and softened expression, I think that it must have been so. But at that time I had never heard of Catalina.) But now came the final and most difficult "tangle" of all--the blunder apparent to the world--the defect which mars the whole poem, and yet is contained in but a single line: "And the lamplight o'er him streaming casts his shadow on the floor." Poe declared this to be hopeless, and that it was, in fact, the chief cause of his dissatisfaction with the poem. Indeed, it may well excite surprise that he, so careful and fastidious as to the completeness of his work, should have allowed _The Raven_ to go from his hands marred by a defect so glaring, but this is proof that he did indeed regard it as hopeless. * * * * * When Mr. Poe left us on this September morning he took with him this manuscript copy of _The Raven_; which, however, he on the following day handed to me, begging that I would keep it until his return from New York. I found that he had marked several minor defects in the poem, one of which was his objection to the word "shutter," as being too commonplace and not agreeing with the word "lattice," previously used. He remarked, before leaving for New York, that he intended having _The Raven_, after some further work upon it, published in an early number of the _Stylus_. I do not doubt but that, had he lived, he would have made it much more perfect than it now is.