iful portrait painter;
and the husband declared that, if I would stop at St. Filian, all
the ladies in the place would crowd to have their portraits
taken,--my pictures were so flattering. I have just parted with
them. The steamship stopped in the open sea, just in front of the
little bay of St. Filian; boats came off from shore for the party.
I helped the beautiful original of the portrait into the boat, and
promised her and her husband if ever I should come to St. Filian I
would pay them a visit. The last I noticed of her was a Spanish
farewell wave of her beautiful white hand, and the gleam of her
dazzling teeth as she smiled adieu. So there's a very tolerable
touch of romance for a gentleman of my years."

When Irving announced his recall from the court of Madrid, the young
Queen said to him in reply: "You may take with you into private life the
intimate conviction that your frank and loyal conduct has contributed to
draw closer the amicable relations which exist between North America and
the Spanish nation, and that your distinguished personal merits have
gained in my heart the appreciation which you merit by more than one
title." The author was anxious to return. From the midst of court life
in April, 1845, he had written: "I long to be once more back at dear
little Sunnyside, while I have yet strength and good spirits to enjoy
the simple pleasures of the country, and to rally a happy family group
once more about me. I grudge every year of absence that rolls by.
To-morrow is my birthday. I shall then be sixty-two years old. The
evening of life is fast drawing over me; still I hope to get back among
my friends while there is a little sunshine left."

It was the 19th of September, 1846, says his biographer, "when the
impatient longing of his heart was gratified, and he found himself
restored to his home for the thirteen years of happy life still
remaining to him."

CHAPTER IX.

THE CHARACTERISTIC WORKS.

The Knickerbocker's "History of New York" and the "Sketch-Book" never
would have won for Irving the gold medal of the Royal Society of
Literature, or the degree of D.C.L. from Oxford.

However much the world would have liked frankly to honor the writer for
that which it most enjoyed and was under most obligations for, it would
have been a violent shock to the constitution of things to have given
suc