very heart of the Highlands, with magnificent scenery all around him; mountains clothed with forests to their very summit, and the noble Hudson moving along quietly and majestically at their feet."

June 16th, Mr. Hueston writes him for a contribution to the "Knickerbocker Gallery," a complimentary tribute to Louis Gaylord Clark, for twenty years editor of the "Knickerbocker Magazine," and trusts he will be able to furnish it by the 1st of July. On the 21st of the same month, Mrs. C. M. Kirkland throws herself on his gallantry for a ten line scrap-the sweeping of his portfolio -that might be read aloud at a literary and musical festival that had been devised at Milwaukie, as a means to raise three hundred dollars toward an institution for the education of young women at the West. After being read aloud, the article was to be sold to the highest bidder. Both requests were complied with, and articles

sent.

June 29th, he writes to Kennedy, with "a head confused and almost stupefied with catarrh ;" that this had "been rather an unfortunate season with him, having had two returns of his old complaint, chills and fever; the last just as he was on the way to attend a wedding of a grandniece, at which all the ten tribes of the family were assembled."

In the following letter we have an account, among other things, of a visit to Idlewild, the home of N. P. Willis:

[To Mr. J. P. Kennedy.]

MY DEAR KENNEDY :

SUNNYSIDE, August 31, 1854.

Wherever this letter finds you, whether in your tower on the banks of the Patapsco, at your brother's in the Shenandoah Valley, or with that rare old cavalier, your uncle Pendleton, in his favorite resort, the cool hollow of Berkeley Springs, may it find you in the enjoyment of good health and good spirits.

I am concerned to learn that Mr. Gray's health has been feeble of late, and that he has had days of suffering and "nights of prolonged nervous distress." Your account of his firm presentiment that he was to close his earthly career on his birthday, the 16th of last July, of his business arrangements for the event, and the calm serenity with which he awaited it, is really touching and beautiful. It only proved how truly worthy he is of length of days; for none is so fitted to live as he who is well prepared to die. God send him many more years, with a body as free from pain as his mind is from evil or his heart from unkindness. He has everything that should accompany old age,—

"As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends;"

and he is an instance how lovable old age may render itself.

I lately made a day's excursion up the Hudson, in company with Mr. and Mrs. M—G— and two or three others, to visit Willis in his poetical retreat in Idlewild. It is really a beautiful place, the site well chosen, commanding noble and romantic scenery; the house commodious and picturesque, and furnished with much taste. In a word, it is just such a retreat as a poet would desire. I never saw Willis to such advantage as on this occasion. Willis talks and writes much about his ill health, and is really troubled with an ugly cough; but I do not think his lungs are seriously affected, and I think it likely he will be like a cracked pitcher, which lasts the longer for having a flaw in it, being so much the more taken care of.

VOL. III.-17

I have been passing the summer entirely at home, determined not to travel any more in hot weather. I have had no return of the chills and fever, that paid me a slight visit early in June, and am now in fair health for such a green old gentleman. I wish I had Douce Davie here to mount occasionally, for Gentleman Dick is in such disgrace that my womankind will not hear to my mounting him any more. The last time I did so, he took a start from hearing a young horse in a pasture galloping alongside of the fence, and, fancying it to be a challenge to a race, set off ventre a terre, and gave me a run of nearly three miles before I could bring him to a stop. Fortunately, I had a fair road; everybody and everything turned aside, and made way for me; and Dick showed such speed and bottom, that I am thinking of entering him for the cup at the

next races.

God bless you, my dear Kennedy.

Yours very faithfully,

WASHINGTON IRVING.

It was nine months before he again mounted the back of Gentleman Dick; and the equestrian mischance that then befell him, will be told in its place. I introduce now Mr. Willis's account of a conversation with him about Moore the poet, which took place on his late visit to Idlewild :

"We chanced to be present, the other day, when Washington Irving took up the defense of the memory of Tom Moore. So noteworthy an outpouring, as it was, of a generous and genial nature-properly eloquent in defense of the friend with whom he had exchanged cordialities, and over whose grave he would not, therefore, see an ill weed grow unplucked -we wished, at the time, that the summer wind would play reporter, and tell the whole world of it. The subject was started by Irving's being rallied on having been such a Brummel, while in London, as to have

served Moore for a model in dress; as appeared by a passage in one of his letters, giving directions to his publisher to look up Irving's tailor to make him a coat.

"Ah," said Geoffrey, with one of his genial lightings-up of the face still handsome, "that was owing to the mere chance of Moore's having been with me, one morning, when I went into Nugee's. And I have often thought of it since, by the way, as a curious instance of the bringing together of opposite classes in England. We were strolling down St. James Street, and Moore just stepped in with me while I ordered a coat. Seeing that Nugee did not know him, I stepped between the two, and said, 'Really, gentlemen, two such very distinguished men ought to know each other! Mr. Nugee, this is Mr. Thomas Moore; Mr. Moore, Mr. Nugee!' Upon which, Nugee, who was worth one hundred and fifty thousand pounds at least, came forward, bowing almost to the ground in his excessive humility, and could not find words enough to express his sense of the honor of such an introduction.* He was delighted with it, too, and thanked me warmly for it afterward. Good creature!' he said of Moore; 'good creature!'-using the phrase very popular in London, at that time, to express great admiration. Yes," continued Irving, musingly, "there was that tailor, worth a magnificent fortune, and he would come to your lodgings with the coat he had made, to try it on! I remember his flattering way of looking at me, and expressing his interest when I called upon him, on my return from the Continent, to order something. Not looking quite so well, my dear sir; not quite so well! Take care of yourself, dear Mr. Irving; pray, take care of yourself! We can't spare you yet.'

"But they do Moore the greatest injustice in denying him a sincere affection for his wife. He really loved her, and was proud of her. I know it," continued Irving, very emphatically. "When we were in Paris

*In Moore's Diary occurs the following passage: "Nugee called with the first sketch of my coat, to try it on. Said he would dress me better than ever I was dressed in my life. There's not much of you, sir,' he said, and therefore my object must be to make the most I can of you.' Quite a jewel of a man, this Nugee. Have gone to him in consequence of my former tailor being bankrupt."

together, I used to go out and breakfast with him; and most delightful those breakfasts were. And I remember being with Moore when his friends Lord and Lady Holland had just arrived; and Lady Holland told Tom they were coming out the next day to breakfast, and she wished particularly to see little Bessy. They shall have the breakfast,' said his wife, when he told her, but they won't see little Bessy!' She said it very archly, but with the positiveness of an habitual independence, for she would not be patronized by great folks! Moore admired this, though he used to say it was quite beyond what he was capable of himself. But she did yield to him occasionally, and go out with him to parties--once particularly exciting her husband's greatest admiration by the way her quiet and self-possessed manner completely baffled the condescension of Lady L. Her ladyship had intended to be excessively cordial; but the simple way in which 'little Bessy' took it as a matter of course, turned the balance of dignity altogether. Moore spoke of it delightedly afterward. O, they have cruelly misrepresented that man! He was an honorable, high-minded fellow, and, in some trying money matters particularly, he showed the greatest disinterestedness and liberality. He has been shamefully wronged since his death."

Thus vindicatorily of his friend spoke the just and kind Geoffrey Crayon a day or two since; and we are glad to record it while the dark wing of the poet's renown is uppermost. For, says Milton,

"Fame has two wings-one black, the other white;

She waves them both in her unequal flight."

To Mrs. Kennedy he writes from Sunnyside, August 31st:

You asked me whether the homoeopathics still keep me quite well. I really begin to have great faith in them. The complaint of the head especially, which troubled me last year, and obliged me to throw by my pen, has been completely vanquished by them, so that I have fagged with it as closely as ever.