How truly has Wordsworth expressed this idea: 

  ’If there be one who need bemoan
    His kindred laid in earth,
  The household hearts that were his own,
    It is the man of mirth.’

We are glad to know that in time Irving sought a better consolation.

But to return from this digression, or rather anticipation of our subject.  At the time of which we now write, New-York was comparatively a small town; true, it was the chief commercial city in America, and yet its limits proper could be described by a line drawn across the island some distance below Canal street.  Yet even then New-York was full of life, and seemed to feel the promise of subsequent greatness.  Her streets echoed to the footsteps of men whom the present generation, with all its progress, can not surpass.  At Number 26 Broadway, might have been daily seen the light-built but martial and elegant form of Alexander Hamilton, while his mortal foe, Aaron Burr, as we have stated, held his office in Partition street.  John Jacob Astor was just becoming an established and solid business man, and dwelt at 223 Broadway, the present site of the Astor House, and which was one of the earliest purchases which led to the greatest landed estate in America.  Robert Lenox lived in Broadway, near Trinity Church, and was building up that splendid commerce which has made his son one of the chief city capitalists.  De Witt Clinton was a young and ambitious lawyer, full of promise, whose office (he was just elected Mayor) was Number 1 Broadway.  Cadwallader D. Colden was pursuing his brilliant career, and might be found immersed in law at Number 59 Wall street.  Such were the legal and political magnates of the day; while to slake the thirst of their excited followers, Medcef Eden brewed ale in Gold street, and Janeway carried on the same business in Magazine street; and his empty establishment became notorious, in later years, as the ‘Old Brewery.’

About this time young Irving was developing as one of the most interesting youth of the city.  His manners were soft without being effeminate, his form finely molded, and his countenance singularly beautiful.  To this might be added the general opinion that he was considerably gifted in the use of the pen.  Yet with all these promising features, the future was clothed with shadows, for his health was failing, and his friends considered him too lovely a flower to last.  Little did his brothers and sisters think that that delicate youth would, with one exception, outlive the whole family.  It was at this time that he first went abroad; and his experiences of travel are given by Pierre Irving in the sparkling letters which he wrote to his brothers.