In this mood, he eagerly accepted an invitation to spend the evening from a class-mate whose room in “Rowdy Row” had a reputation for conviviality.  His own room, shared by a quiet and steady Richmond boy with whom he had a slight acquaintance at home, was in one of the cloister-like dormitories opening upon the main lawn.

While Edgar Poe had been a somewhat wayward and at times a disobedient boy, at home, he had never been a bad boy except when judged by John Allan’s standards, and had never been in the least wild.  Wines were used upon the table of his foster-father, as upon the tables of other gentlemen whose homes he had visited, and he had always been permitted to drink a small quantity at a time, at dinner, or to sip a little mint-julep from the goblet passed around before breakfast and supposed to be conducive to appetite and healthful digestion; but he had never thought of exceeding this allowance.  As to cards, he knew nothing of them save as an innocent, social pastime in which he found pleasure, as in all other games and sports—­especially such as required exercise of ingenuity or mental skill.

The evening in “Rowdy Row” was therefore a revelation, as well as a diversion to him.  As he approached the end of this arcaded row in which his new friend’s room was situated his interest received a spur from the sounds of hilarity that greeted him, and his spirits began to rise.  In a few moments more he found himself in the midst of a group of exceedingly jolly youths evidently prepared to make a night of it.  Several of them were gathered about a huge bowl in which they were mixing a variety of punch which they called “peach-honey.”  Others were seated around a card table while one of their number entertained the rest with what seemed to be almost magical tricks.  These Edgar joined.  His interest was immediately aroused and he fixed his eyes with intentness upon the juggler.  The tricks were new to him, but he soon amazed the crowd by showing the solution of them all.

Finally, the punch was declared to be ready; other packs of cards were produced and the real sport of the evening began.  It was Edgar’s first experience in drinking with boys and his conscience, not yet hardened to it, kept him in check without worrying him enough to destroy his pleasure.  Somewhat of his old exhilaration returned to him at the bare thought, for he felt himself a man, following his own will and yet not disobeying any direct command.

In spite of much urging, he only drank one glass of the peach-honey, but thanks to a jovial ancestor of whom he had never heard, but of some of whose sins (in accordance with the ancient law) he bore the marks in his temperament, he was peculiarly susceptible to the influences of strong drink, and as he drained the glass at a gulp, a new freedom seemed to enter his soul.  The dejection which had oppressed him dropped from him instantly, and with his great eyes glowing like lamps with new zest in life, he sat down at a card table to be initiated into the mysteries of the fascinating game of loo, which had lately become the fashion, and at the same time into his first experience in playing for money.