prosperity, to build up the edifice anew. The crisis has been felt sorely in my immediate neighborhood, among those who were largely in business, some of whom have been completely ruined; yet they have borne their reverses manfully, and are looking forward hopefully to better times.

I have a very pleasant social neighborhood; and it has been more social than usual this winter, people seeming to draw closer together and seek refuge in cordial intercourse from external evils. Indeed, I am so happy in my neighborhood, and the home feeling has grown so strong with me, that I go very little to town, and have scarcely slept a dozen nights there within the last twelve months. Perhaps it is the effect of gathering years, to settle more and more into the quiet of one's elbow-chair.

You have no doubt learned, before this, that the Gs intend to set out, in June next, on a European tour. I can easily imagine what a delightful meeting it will be when you all come together. I wish they could bring you all back with them, and put an end to your protracted absence from your natural home, which I cannot help considering a protracted

error.

With kind remembrances to Mr. Storrow, and love to the young folks, your affectionate uncle,

WASHINGTON IRVING.

February 19th, 1858; at Sunnyside. --Mr. Irving had been kept awake until after three by coughing, yet seemed in tolerable spirits at breakfast, and resumed his writing after it. The next day he got speaking of George Frederick Cooke, the eminent performer. "He was a great actor," he said; a great actor. The finest group I ever saw, was at Covent Garden, when Cooke, after long disgrace for his intemperance, reappeared on the boards to play Iago to John Kemble's Othello. Mrs. Siddons played Desdemona, and Charles Kemble Cassio, beauti

:

fully. Kemble [John] had sent for Cooke to rehearse with him at his room, but Cooke would not go. 'Let Black Jack'-so he called Kemble-'come to me.' So they went on the boards without previous rehearsal. In the scene in which Iago instills his suspicion, Cooke grasped Kemble's left hand with his own, and then fixed his right, like a claw, on his shoulder. In this position, drawing himself up to him with his shortarm, he breathed his poisonous whispers. Kemble coiled and twisted his hand, writhing to get away-his right hand clasping his brow, and darting his eye back on Iago. It was wonderful. Speaking to Cooke of the effect on me of this scene, after his arrival in New York [in 1810], 'Didn't I play up to Black Jack!' he exclaimed. 'I saw his dark eye sweeping back upon me.'

"I was at John Howard Payne's, near Corlier's Hook, the night of Cooke's arrival in New York. I was there by invitation, to meet him. Cooke came in a little flustered with drink. Was very much exasperated at the detention at the Custom House of some silver cups, possibly presents, he had brought with him, and would break forth, every now and then, with, 'Why did they keep my cups? They knew they would melt!' with significant emphasis. He was harsh and abusive when drunk, but full of courtesy when sober." Mr. Irving dwelt upon "the easy jollity" with which he played Falstaff. "Hodgkinson [whom, probably, some living may yet remember on the boards of the old Park Theatre] "was a little fus

tian in tragedy, but capital in comedy and farce. He was finer than Cooper in Petruchio. Cooper was harsh. With Hodgkinson, you could 'see the fun at the bottom' of his treatment to Catherine."

I asked which he preferred-John Kemble, or Cooke? "Kemble had, perhaps, more the sympathy of his audience, because he played nobler characters-Cooke, the villains; but, in his range, which was limited, he was the greatest actor."

Speaking afterward of artists, he remarked: "Jarvis tried, but failed, to embody my conception of Diedrich Knickerbocker. Leslie also. Darley hit it in the illustrated 'History of New York.' My idea was that he should carry the air of one profoundly impressed with the truth of his own 'History.'

"Allston was always the gentleman. Would talk by the hour. Liked to talk. A capital teller of ghost stories. Would act them with voice, eyes, gesture. Had touches of gentle humor. Rather indolent. Would lie late in bed. Smoked cigars. A man of real genius. A noble painter. It was a pity he came back [in 1818]; he would have risen to the head of his art-been the greatest painter of his day."

The foregoing, and the anecdotes which follow, I give from rough notes made at the time.

March 23d, 1858 (still at Sunnyside). ---Mr. Irving mentioned, after breakfast, a dream of the night before, that he had killed one of the little birds that had commenced singing about the cottage, and his waking in great distress, in consequence, and lighting his lamp to read off the effect. Had shot many a robin when a youngster; and when they were skipping about the cottage often thought with compunction how many of their ancestors he had killed. "O uncle!" exclaimed a niece, "how could you ever shoot those innocent little things!" "Well, my dear, it wasn't the same robins that covered the babes in the wood."

April 3d, 1858, was his seventy-fifth birthday, and a family party was assembled, as usual, to celebrate it. It was a bright, beautiful, genial day. He was in fine spirits, serenely cheerful. Spoke of his happiness at feeling so well on his seventy-fifth birthday, when a little before he had been troubled with asthma and difficulty of breathing, and had begun to feel that "he had got his ticket" for the other world.

Soon after breakfast came baskets of flowers, and various other birthday offerings from the neighborhood. Later in the day, different friends dropped in with their congratulations. Altogether, the day passed off delightfully-nothing to mar it.

April 17th, 1858. -А Mr. Т., from the centre of Ohio, called at the cottage, as he stated, "simply to see Washington Irving before his return." He brought a letter from Horace Greeley, saying that he was no author, and only curious to have a look at him. Made a short visit, Began by telling

and proved to be a very good fellow.

Mr. Irving his first fondness for reading dated from Knickerbocker's "New York." Showed no great inclination that way until his schoolmaster set him down to that. "And that," said Mr. Irving, "begot a taste for history." The visitor being connected with railroads, Mr. Irving spoke of the wonderful rapidity of locomotion now-a-days. "Travellers now walked Broadway with the dust of the prairies on their boots." "Yes, literally," said his auditor.

I follow with a letter to Bancroft, on receipt of a fresh volume of his "History: "—

MY DEAR BANCROFT :

SUNNYSIDE, May 17, 1858.

I have delayed acknowledging the receipt of your volume until I should have read it through. I now thank you heartily for your kindness in sending it to me. The interest with which I have devoured it, notwithstanding the staleness of the subject with me, is a proof that you have told the story well. I was charmed with the opening of your volume: the political state of England and France; the decadence of the French nobility; the characters of the French monarchs; the beautiful sketch of Marie Antoinette; then the transition to sober, earnest New England -the "meeting of the nine committees" (p. 35), "the lowly men accustomed to feed their own cattle, to fold their own sheep, to guide their own plough-all trained to public life in the little democracies of their towns," etc., etc. How graphic! how suggestive! how true!

I see you place Samuel Adams in the van of the Revolution, and he deserves the place. He was the apostle of popular liberty, without a thought of self-interest or self-glorification.

There is capital management throughout all the chapters treating of the New England States, wherein you go on building up the revolutionary fire, stick by stick, until at last you set it in a blaze.