drove a snug pair of ponies down to the steamboat to meet us—­(for, even then, Thackeray’s “one old horse” was not the only resource in the Sunnyside stables).  The drive of two miles from Tarrytown to that delicious lane which leads to the Roost,—­who does not know all that, and how charming it is?  Five hundred descriptions of the Tappan Sea and the region round about have not exhausted it.  The modest cottage, almost buried under the luxuriant Melrose ivy, was then just made what it is,—­a picturesque and comfortable retreat for a man of tastes and habits like those of Geoffrey Crayon,—­snug and modest, but yet, with all its surroundings, a fit residence for a gentleman who had means to make everything suitable as well as handsome about him.  Of this a word anon.

I do not presume to write of the home-details of Sunnyside, further than to say that this delightful visit of three or four days gave us the impression that Mr. Irving’s element seemed to be at home, as head of the family.  He took us for a stroll over the grounds,—­some twenty acres of wood and dell, with babbling brooks,—­pointing out innumerable trees which he had planted with his own hands, and telling us anecdotes and reminiscences of his early life:—­of his being taken in the Mediterranean by pirates;—­of his standing on the pier at Messina, in Sicily, and looking at Nelson’s fleet sweeping by on its way to the Battle of Trafalgar;—­of his failure to see the interior of Milan Cathedral, because it was being decorated for the coronation of the first Napoleon;—­of his adventures in Rome with Allston, and how near Geoffrey Crayon came to being an artist;—­of Talleyrand, and many other celebrities;—­and of incidents which seemed to take us back to a former generation.  Often at this and subsequent visits I ventured to suggest, (not professionally,) after some of these reminiscences, “I hope you have taken time to make a note of these";—­but the oracle nodded a sort of humorous No.—­A drive to Sleepy Hollow—­Mr. Irving again managing the ponies himself—­crowned our visit; and with such a coachman and guide, in such regions, we were not altogether unable to appreciate the excursion.

You are aware that in “Knickerbocker,” especially, Mr. Irving made copious revisions and additions, when the new edition was published in 1848.  The original edition (1809) was dedicated with mock gravity to the New York Historical Society; and the preface to the revision explains the origin and intent of the work.  Probably some of the more literal-minded grandsons of Holland were somewhat unappreciative of the precise scope of the author’s genius and the bent of his humor; but if this “veritable history” really elicited any “doubts” or any hostility, at the time, such misapprehension has doubtless been long since removed.  It has often been remarked that Diedrich Knickerbocker had really enlisted more practical interest in the early annals of his native State than all other historians together, down to his time.  But for him we might never have had an O’Callaghan or a Brodhead.