Soon after he left West Point Poe had printed at Baltimore a small volume of verses, ("Al Aaraaf,” of about four hundred lines, “Tamerlane,” of about three hundred lines, with smaller pieces,) and the favorable manner in which it was commonly referred to confirmed his belief that he might succeed in the profession of literature.  The contents of the book appear to have been written when he was between sixteen and nineteen years of age; but though they illustrated the character of his abilities and justified his anticipations of success, they do not seem to me to evince, all things considered, a very remarkable precocity.  The late Madame d’Ossoli refers to some of them as the productions of a boy of eight or ten years, but I believe there is no evidence that anything of his which has been published was written before he left the university.  Certainly, it was his habit so constantly to labor upon what he had produced—­he was at all times so anxious and industrious in revision—­that his works, whenever first composed, displayed the perfection of his powers at the time when they were given to the press.

His contributions to the journals attracted little attention, and his hopes of gaining a living in this way being disappointed, he enlisted in the army as a private soldier.  How long he remained in the service I have not been able to ascertain.  He was recognized by officers who had known him at West Point and efforts were made, privately, but with prospects of success, to obtain for him a commission, when it was discovered by his friends that he had deserted.

He had probably found relief from the monotony of a soldier’s life in literary composition.  His mind was never in repose, and without some such resort the dull routine of camp or barracks would have been insupportable.  When he next appears, he has a volume of MS. stories, which he desires to print under the title of “Tales of the Folio Club.”  An offer by the proprietor of the Baltimore Saturday Visitor, of two prizes, one for the best tale and one for the best poem, induced him to submit the pieces entitled “MS. Found in a Bottle,” “Lionizing,” “The Visionary,” and three others, with “The Coliseum,” a poem, to the committee, which consisted of Mr. John P. Kennedy, the author of “Horse-Shoe Robinson;” Mr. J.H.B.  Latrobe, and Dr. James H. Miller.  Such matters are usually disposed of in a very off-hand way:  Committees to award literary prizes drink to the payer’s health in good wines, over unexamined MSS., which they submit to the discretion of publishers, with permission to use their names in such a way as to promote the publishers’ advantage.  So perhaps it would have been in this case, but that one of the committee, taking up a little book remarkably beautiful and distinct in caligraphy, was tempted to read several pages; and becoming interested, he summoned the attention of the company to the half-dozen compositions it contained.  It was unanimously decided that the prizes should be paid to “the