more
I see her, the more I admire her. I hardly breathe while she is on the
stage. She works up my feelings till I am like a mere child." Some years
later, after the publication of the "Sketch-Book," in a London assembly
Irving was presented to the tragedy queen, who had left the stage, but
had not laid aside its stately manner. She looked at him a moment, and
then in a deep-toned voice slowly enunciated, "You've made me weep."
The author was so disconcerted that he said not a word, and retreated
in confusion. After the publication of "Bracebridge Hall" he met her
in company again, and was persuaded to go through the ordeal of another
presentation. The stately woman fixed her eyes on him as before, and
slowly said, "You 've made me weep again." This time the bashful author
acquitted himself with more honor.

This first sojourn abroad was not immediately fruitful in a literary
way, and need not further detain us. It was the irresolute pilgrimage of
a man who had not yet received his vocation. Everywhere he was received
in the best society, and the charm of his manner and his ingenuous
nature made him everywhere a favorite. He carried that indefinable
passport which society recognizes and which needs no 'visee.' He saw
the people who were famous, the women whose recognition is a social
reputation; he made many valuable friends; he frequented the theater,
he indulged his passion for the opera; he learned how to dine, and
to appreciate the delights of a brilliant salon; he was picking up
languages; he was observing nature and men, and especially women. That
he profited by his loitering experience is plain enough afterward, but
thus far there is little to prophesy that Irving would be anything more
in life than a charming 'flaneur.'

IV. SOCIETY AND "SALMAGUNDI"

On Irving's return to America in February, 1806, with reestablished
health, life did not at first take on a more serious purpose. He was
admitted to the bar, but he still halted.--[Irving once illustrated
his legal acquirements at this time by the relation of the following
anecdote to his nephew: Josiah Ogden Hoffman and Martin Wilkins, an
effective and witty advocate, had been appointed to examine students for
admission. One student acquitted himself very lamely, and at the supper
which it was the custom for the candidates to give to the examiners,
when they passed upon their several merits, Hoffman paused in coming to
this one, and turning to Wilkins sai