te ivy at
Melrose Abbey was transported across the Atlantic, and trained over
the porch of "Sunnyside," by the hand of Mrs. Renwick, daughter of
Rev. Andrew Jeffrey of Lochmaben, known in girlhood as the "Bonnie
Jessie" of Annandale, or the "Blue-eyed Lassie" of Robert Burns:--a
graceful tribute, from the shrine of Waverley to the nest of
Knickerbocker:

A token of friendship immortal
With Washington Irving returns:--
Scott's ivy entwined o'er his portal
By the Blue-eyed Lassie of Burns.

Scott's cordial greeting at Abbotsford, and his persistence in getting
Murray to reconsider the publication of the "Sketch Book," which he
had previously declined, were never forgotten by Irving. It was during
a critical period of his literary career, and the kindness of the
Great Magician, in directing early attention to his genius, is still
cherished by every reader of the "Sketch Book" from Manhattan to
San Francisco. The hearty grasp of the Minstrel at the gateway of
Abbotsford was in reality a warm handshake to a wider brotherhood
beyond the sea.

* * *

In purple tints woven together
The Hudson shakes hands with the Tweed,
Commingling with Abbotsford's heather
The clover of Sunnyside's mead.

_Wallace Bruce._

* * *

=Washington Irving.=--While he was building "Sunnyside," a letter came
from Daniel Webster, then Secretary of State, appointing him minister
to Spain. It was unexpected and unsolicited, and Webster remarked that
day to a friend: "Washington Irving to-day will be the most surprised
man in America." Irving had already shown diplomatic ability in London
in promoting the settlement of the "North Western Boundary," and his
appointment was received with universal favor. Then as now Sunnyside
was already a Mecca for travelers, and, among many well-known to fame,
was a young man, afterwards Napoleon the Third. Referring to his
visit, Irving wrote in 1853: "Napoleon and Eugenie, Emperor and
Empress! The one I have had as a guest at my cottage, the other I have
held as a pet child upon my knee in Granada. The last I saw of Eugenie
Montijo, she was one of the reigning belles of Madrid; now, she is
upon the throne, launched from a returnless shore, upon a dangerous
sea, infamous for its tremendous shipwrecks. Am I to live to see the
catastrophe of her career, and the end of this suddenly conjured up
empire, which seems to be of such stuff as dreams are made of?
I confess my p