history, and would have ranked high as a gentleman of elegant humor; but where would have been his enduring works?  We sympathize with the disappointed lover; but we feel thankful that from his sorrow we gather such precious fruit.  The death of Matilda led him abroad—­to Spain, where he compiled his Columbus and gathered material for his Alhambra—­and to England, where the Columbus was finished and published, and where his name became great, in spite of national prejudice.  Beside this, the sorrow which cast its sacred shadow upon him gave his writings that endearing charm which fascinates the emotional nature and enabled him to touch the hidden chords of the heart.

If Ogilvie could congratulate him on the bankruptcy which drove him from the details of trade to the richer fruition of literary promise, we may consider it a beneficent working of Providence, which afforded to Irving a still earlier emancipation from the law, cheered as it might have been by the kindness of Mr. Hoffman and the society of Matilda.

Such being the remarkable chain which unites the names of the author and his love, we can not but consider her as a part of his character through the best years of his life and amid all the splendid success of his literary career.  Indeed, through coming generations of readers, the names of Irving and Matilda will be united in the loveliest and most romantic of associations.

I have prolonged this reminiscence to an unexpected length, and yet can not close without a few additional thoughts which grow out of the perusal of the biography.  Perhaps the chief of these is the nationality of Irving’s character, particularly while a resident of Europe.  Neither the pungent bitterness of the British press nor the patronage of the aristocracy could abate the firmness with which he upheld the dignity of his country.  He was not less her representative when a struggling author in Liverpool or London than when Secretary of Legation at the Court of St. James, or Ambassador at Madrid.  His first appearance abroad was at a time of little foreign travel, and an American was an object of remark and observation.  His elegant simplicity reflected honor upon his native land, and amid all classes, and in all places, love of country ruled him.  This high tone pervaded his views of public duty.  A gross defaulter having been mentioned in his presence, he replied, that ’next to robbing one’s father it is, to rob one’s country.’

It is also worthy of note that while Irving lived to unusual fullness of years, yet he never was considered an old man.  We do not so much refer to his erect and vigorous frame as to the freshness of his mind.  It is said that Goethe, on being asked the definition of a poet, replied:  ’One who preserves to old age the feelings of youth.’  Such was a leading feature in Mr. Irving’s spirit, which, notwithstanding his shadowed hours, was so buoyant and cheerful.  His countenance was penseroso when in repose, and allegro in action, and these graces clung to him even in life’s winter, like the flower at the base of the glacier.