idea of introducing
extraneous matter of British origin. In prosecution of this design, he
found as _collaborateurs_ the two Misses Foster above alluded to, who
are now wives of clergymen of the Church of England. Mrs. Fuller, the
elder of the sisters, and the special favorite of the author, gives upon
the whole a modest and pleasant account of their association with Mr.
Irving, and closes with a few lines which, she says, he wrote in her
scrap-book in 1832. "He declared it was impossible for him to be less in
a writing-mood." And thereupon follow the well-known lines entitled
"Echo and Silence." They certainly do not prove very much for the
writing-mood of Mr. Irving,--whatever they may prove for Sir Egerton
Brydges. The contribution of the younger sister, Mrs. Flora Dawson, is
in a somewhat exaggerated and melodramatic vein, in the course of which
she takes occasion to expend a great deal of pity upon "poor Irving,"
who is made to appear in the character of a rejected suitor for the hand
of her sister. It is true that the testimony of Mr. Irving's biographer,
and of his private papers, is largely against this absurdly romantic
construction; but, although it had been perfectly authentic, it is
almost incredible that a lady of delicacy should make such blazon of the
affair, for the sake of securing a copyright to "Her Majesty's Publisher
in Ordinary." We are sorry that Mrs. Dawson has not made a better
_debut_ in literature. As for Mr. Bentley, we can characterize his
conduct in the matter only by the word--disgraceful. In the whole
history of griping literary piracies (of which Americans must bear their
share) we can recall no one which shows so bad a taste, and so bad a
faith, as this of Mr. Bentley, the "Publisher in Ordinary to Her
Majesty."

In the year 1824 we find Mr. Irving at work in Paris chambers upon the
"Tales of a Traveller"; then follow three or four joyous and workful
years in Spain, between Madrid, Seville, and the Alhambra. We have all
tasted the fruit of that pleasant sojourn; "Columbus" is on every
library-shelf; and we remember a certain dog's-eared copy of the
"Conquest of Granada" which once upon a time set all the boys of a
certain school agog with a martial furor. How we shook our javelins at
some bewildered cow blundering into the play-ground! What piratical
forays we made upon the neighbors' orchards, after the manner of the
brave old Muley Aben Hassan! And as for the Alhambra, the tinkle of t