AsIimagined，theshipprovestobeinacurrent；ifthatappellationcanproperlybegiventoatidewhich，howlingandshriekingbythewhiteice，thundersontothesouthwardwithavelocityliketheheadlongdashingofacataract。
　　Toconceivethehorrorofmysensationsis，Ipresume，utterlyimpossible；yetacuriositytopenetratethemysteriesoftheseawfulregions，predominatesevenovermydespair，andwillreconcilemetothemosthideousaspectofdeath。Itisevidentthatwearehurryingonwardstosomeexcitingknowledgesomenever-to-be-impartedsecret，whoseattainmentisdestruction。Perhapsthiscurrentleadsustothesouthernpoleitself。Itmustbeconfessedthatasuppositionapparentlysowildhaseveryprobabilityinitsfavor。
　　Thecrewpacethedeckwithunquietandtremulousstep；butthereisupontheircountenancesanexpressionmoreoftheeagernessofhopethanoftheapathyofdespair。
　　Inthemeantimethewindisstillinourpoop，and，aswecarryacrowdofcanvas，theshipisattimesliftedbodilyfromouttheseaOh，horroruponhorror！theiceopenssuddenlytotheright，andtotheleft，andwearewhirlingdizzily，inimmenseconcentriccircles，roundandroundthebordersofagiganticamphitheatre，thesummitofwhosewallsislostinthedarknessandthedistance。Butlittletimewillbeleftmetoponderuponmydestinythecirclesrapidlygrowsmallweareplungingmadlywithinthegraspofthewhirlpoolandamidaroaring，andbellowing，andthunderingofoceanandoftempest，theshipisquivering，ohGod！andgoingdown。
　　NOTE。The“MS。FoundinaBottle。”wasoriginallypublishedin1831，anditwasnotuntilmanyyearsafterwardsthatIbecameacquaintedwiththemapsofMercator，inwhichtheoceanisrepresentedasrushing，byfourmouths，intothenorthernPolarGulf，tobeabsorbedintothebowelsoftheearth；thePoleitselfbeingrepresentedbyablackrock，toweringtoaprodigiousheight。
　　TheOvalPortraitTHEchateauintowhichmyvalethadventuredtomakeforcibleentrance，ratherthanpermitme，inmydesperatelywoundedcondition，topassanightintheopenair，wasoneofthosepilesofcommingledgloomandgrandeurwhichhavesolongfrownedamongtheAppennines，notlessinfactthaninthefancyofMrs。Radcliffe。Toallappearanceithadbeentemporarilyandverylatelyabandoned。Weestablishedourselvesinoneofthesmallestandleastsumptuouslyfurnishedapartments。Itlayinaremoteturretofthebuilding。Itsdecorationswererich，yettatteredandantique。Itswallswerehungwithtapestryandbedeckedwithmanifoldandmultiformarmorialtrophies，togetherwithanunusuallygreatnumberofveryspiritedmodernpaintingsinframesofrichgoldenarabesque。Inthesepaintings，whichdependedfromthewallsnotonlyintheirmainsurfaces，butinverymanynookswhichthebizarrearchitectureofthechateaurenderednecessaryinthesepaintingsmyincipientdelirium，perhaps，hadcausedmetotakedeepinterest；sothatI
　　badePedrotoclosetheheavyshuttersoftheroomsinceitwasalreadynighttolightthetonguesofatallcandelabrumwhichstoodbytheheadofmybedandtothrowopenfarandwidethefringedcurtainsofblackvelvetwhichenvelopedthebeditself。I
　　wishedallthisdonethatImightresignmyself，ifnottosleep，atleastalternatelytothecontemplationofthesepictures，andtheperusalofasmallvolumewhichhadbeenfounduponthepillow，andwhichpurportedtocriticiseanddescribethem。
　　LonglongIreadanddevoutly，devotedlyIgazed。Rapidlyandgloriouslythehoursflewbyandthedeepmidnightcame。Thepositionofthecandelabrumdispleasedme，andoutreachingmyhandwithdifficulty，ratherthandisturbmyslumberingvalet，Iplaceditsoastothrowitsraysmorefullyuponthebook。
　　Buttheactionproducedaneffectaltogetherunanticipated。Theraysofthenumerouscandlesforthereweremanynowfellwithinanicheoftheroomwhichhadhithertobeenthrownintodeepshadebyoneofthebed-posts。Ithussawinvividlightapictureallunnoticedbefore。Itwastheportraitofayounggirljustripeningintowomanhood。Iglancedatthepaintinghurriedly，andthenclosedmyeyes。WhyIdidthiswasnotatfirstapparenteventomyownperception。Butwhilemylidsremainedthusshut，Iranoverinmymindmyreasonforsoshuttingthem。Itwasanimpulsivemovementtogaintimeforthoughttomakesurethatmyvisionhadnotdeceivedmetocalmandsubduemyfancyforamoresoberandmorecertaingaze。InaveryfewmomentsIagainlookedfixedlyatthepainting。
　　ThatInowsawarightIcouldnotandwouldnotdoubt；forthefirstflashingofthecandlesuponthatcanvashadseemedtodissipatethedreamystuporwhichwasstealingovermysenses，andtostartlemeatonceintowakinglife。
　　Theportrait，Ihavealreadysaid，wasthatofayounggirl。Itwasamereheadandshoulders，doneinwhatistechnicallytermedavignettemanner；muchinthestyleofthefavoriteheadsofSully。
　　Thearms，thebosom，andeventheendsoftheradianthairmeltedimperceptiblyintothevagueyetdeepshadowwhichformedtheback-groundofthewhole。Theframewasoval，richlygildedandfiligreedinMoresque。Asathingofartnothingcouldbemoreadmirablethanthepaintingitself。Butitcouldhavebeenneithertheexecutionofthework，northeimmortalbeautyofthecountenance，whichhadsosuddenlyandsovehementlymovedme。Leastofall，couldithavebeenthatmyfancy，shakenfromitshalfslumber，hadmistakentheheadforthatofalivingperson。Isawatoncethatthepeculiaritiesofthedesign，ofthevignetting，andoftheframe，musthaveinstantlydispelledsuchideamusthavepreventedevenitsmomentaryentertainment。Thinkingearnestlyuponthesepoints，Iremained，foranhourperhaps，halfsitting，halfreclining，withmyvisionrivetedupontheportrait。Atlength，satisfiedwiththetruesecretofitseffect，Ifellbackwithinthebed。Ihadfoundthespellofthepictureinanabsolutelife-likelinessofexpression，which，atfirststartling，finallyconfounded，subdued，andappalledme。WithdeepandreverentaweI
　　replacedthecandelabruminitsformerposition。Thecauseofmydeepagitationbeingthusshutfromview，Isoughteagerlythevolumewhichdiscussedthepaintingsandtheirhistories。Turningtothenumberwhichdesignatedtheovalportrait，Itherereadthevagueandquaintwordswhichfollow：
　　“Shewasamaidenofrarestbeauty，andnotmorelovelythanfullofglee。Andevilwasthehourwhenshesaw，andloved，andweddedthepainter。He，passionate，studious，austere，andhavingalreadyabrideinhisArt；sheamaidenofrarestbeauty，andnotmorelovelythanfullofglee；alllightandsmiles，andfrolicsomeastheyoungfawn；lovingandcherishingallthings；hatingonlytheArtwhichwasherrival；dreadingonlythepalletandbrushesandotheruntowardinstrumentswhichdeprivedherofthecountenanceofherlover。Itwasthusaterriblethingforthisladytohearthepainterspeakofhisdesiretoportrayevenhisyoungbride。Butshewashumbleandobedient，andsatmeeklyformanyweeksinthedark，highturret-chamberwherethelightdrippeduponthepalecanvasonlyfromoverhead。Buthe，thepainter，tookgloryinhiswork，whichwentonfromhourtohour，andfromdaytoday。Andbewasapassionate，andwild，andmoodyman，whobecamelostinreveries；sothathewouldnotseethatthelightwhichfellsoghastlyinthatloneturretwitheredthehealthandthespiritsofhisbride，whopinedvisiblytoallbuthim。Yetshesmiledonandstillon，uncomplainingly，becauseshesawthatthepainterwhohadhighrenowntookafervidandburningpleasureinhistask，andwroughtdayandnighttodepictherwhosolovedhim，yetwhogrewdailymoredispiritedandweak。
　　Andinsoothsomewhobeheldtheportraitspokeofitsresemblanceinlowwords，asofamightymarvel，andaproofnotlessofthepowerofthepainterthanofhisdeeploveforherwhomhedepictedsosurpassinglywell。Butatlength，asthelabordrewnearertoitsconclusion，therewereadmittednoneintotheturret；forthepainterhadgrownwildwiththeardorofhiswork，andturnedhiseyesfromcanvasmerely，eventoregardthecountenanceofhiswife。Andhewouldnotseethatthetintswhichhespreaduponthecanvasweredrawnfromthecheeksofherwhosatebesidehim。Andwhenmanyweeksbadpassed，andbutlittleremainedtodo，saveonebrushuponthemouthandonetintupontheeye，thespiritoftheladyagainflickeredupastheflamewithinthesocketofthelamp。Andthenthebrushwasgiven，andthenthetintwasplaced；and，foronemoment，thepainterstoodentrancedbeforetheworkwhichhehadwrought；butinthenext，whileheyetgazed，hegrewtremulousandverypallid，andaghast，andcryingwithaloudvoice，’ThisisindeedLifeitself！’turnedsuddenlytoregardhisbeloved：Shewasdead！
　　EndofTheWorksofEdgarAllanPoeV。1
　　TheWorksofEdgarAllanPoeVolume2oftheRavenEditionContentsVOLUMEII
　　ThePurloinedLetterTheThousand-and-SecondTaleofScheherezadeADescentintotheMaelstr鰉
　　VonKempelenandhisDiscoveryMesmericRevelationTheFactsintheCaseofM。ValdemarTheBlackCatTheFalloftheHouseofUsherSilenceaFableTheMasqueoftheRedDeathTheCaskofAmontilladoTheImpofthePerverseTheIslandoftheFayTheAssignationThePitandthePendulumThePrematureBurialTheDomainofArnheimLandor’sCottageWilliamWilsonTheTell-TaleHeartBereniceEleonora{Notes}
　　Nilsapientiaeodiosiusacuminenimio。
　　_Seneca_。
　　AtParis，justafterdarkonegustyeveningintheautumnof18-，Iwasenjoyingthetwofoldluxuryofmeditationandameerschaum，incompanywithmyfriendC。AugusteDupin，inhislittlebacklibrary，orbook-closet，autroisi阭e，No。33，RueDun魌，FaubourgSt。
　　Germain。Foronehouratleastwehadmaintainedaprofoundsilence；
　　whileeach，toanycasualobserver，mighthaveseemedintentlyandexclusivelyoccupiedwiththecurlingeddiesofsmokethatoppressedtheatmosphereofthechamber。Formyself，however，Iwasmentallydiscussingcertaintopicswhichhadformedmatterforconversationbetweenusatanearlierperiodoftheevening；ImeantheaffairoftheRueMorgue，andthemysteryattendingthemurderofMarieRog阾。
　　Ilookeduponit，therefore，assomethingofacoincidence，whenthedoorofourapartmentwasthrownopenandadmittedouroldacquaintance，MonsieurG，thePrefectoftheParisianpolice。
　　Wegavehimaheartywelcome；fortherewasnearlyhalfasmuchoftheentertainingasofthecontemptibleabouttheman，andwehadnotseenhimforseveralyears。Wehadbeensittinginthedark，andDupinnowaroseforthepurposeoflightingalamp，butsatdownagain，withoutdoingso，uponG。’ssayingthathehadcalledtoconsultus，orrathertoasktheopinionofmyfriend，aboutsomeofficialbusinesswhichhadoccasionedagreatdealoftrouble。
　　“Ifitisanypointrequiringreflection。”observedDupin，asheforeboretoenkindlethewick，“weshallexamineittobetterpurposeinthedark。”
　　“Thatisanotherofyouroddnotions。”saidthePrefect，whohadafashionofcallingeverything“odd“thatwasbeyondhiscomprehension，andthuslivedamidanabsolutelegionof“oddities。”
　　“Verytrue。”saidDupin，ashesuppliedhisvisiterwithapipe，androlledtowardshimacomfortablechair。
　　“Andwhatisthedifficultynow？”Iasked。“Nothingmoreintheassassinationway，Ihope？”
　　“Ohno；nothingofthatnature。Thefactis，thebusinessisverysimpleindeed，andImakenodoubtthatwecanmanageitsufficientlywellourselves；butthenIthoughtDupinwouldliketohearthedetailsofit，becauseitissoexcessivelyodd。”
　　“Simpleandodd。”saidDupin。
　　“Why，yes；andnotexactlythat，either。Thefactis，wehaveallbeenagooddealpuzzledbecausetheaffairissosimple，andyetbafflesusaltogether。”
　　“Perhapsitistheverysimplicityofthethingwhichputsyouatfault。”saidmyfriend。
　　“Whatnonsenseyoudotalk！”repliedthePrefect，laughingheartily。
　　“Perhapsthemysteryisalittletooplain。”saidDupin。
　　“Oh，goodheavens！whoeverheardofsuchanidea？”
　　“Alittletooself-evident。”
　　“Ha！ha！ha-ha！ha！ha！-ho！ho！ho！”roaredourvisiter，profoundlyamused，“oh，Dupin，youwillbethedeathofmeyet！”
　　“Andwhat，afterall，isthematteronhand？”Iasked。
　　“Why，Iwilltellyou。”repliedthePrefect，ashegavealong，steadyandcontemplativepuff，andsettledhimselfinhischair。“I
　　willtellyouinafewwords；but，beforeIbegin，letmecautionyouthatthisisanaffairdemandingthegreatestsecrecy，andthatI
　　shouldmostprobablylosethepositionInowhold，wereitknownthatIconfidedittoanyone。”
　　“Proceed。”saidI。
　　“Ornot。”saidDupin。
　　“Well，then；Ihavereceivedpersonalinformation，fromaveryhighquarter，thatacertaindocumentofthelastimportance，hasbeenpurloinedfromtheroyalapartments。Theindividualwhopurloineditisknown；thisbeyondadoubt；hewasseentotakeit。Itisknown，also，thatitstillremainsinhispossession。”