he 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 _vise_. He saw the
people who were famous, the women whose recognition is a social
reputation; he made many valuable friends; he frequented the theatre, 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_.

CHAPTER 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.[1] Society more than ever
attracted him and devoured his time. He willingly accepted the office of
"champion at the tea-parties;" he was one of a knot of young fellows of
literary tastes and convivial habits, who delighted to be known as "The
Nine Worthies," or "Lads of Kilkenny." In his letters of this period I
detect a kind of callowness and affectation which is not discernible in
his foreign letters and journal.

[Footnote 1: 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
said, as if in hesitation, though all the while intending to
admit him, "Martin, I think he knows a _little_ law." "Make it
stronger, Jo," was the reply; "_d----d_ little."]

These social worthies had jolly suppers at the humble taverns of the
city, and wilder revelries in an old country house on the Passaic, which
is celebrated in the "Salmagundi" papers as Cockloft Hall. We are
reminded of the change of manners by a letter of Mr. Paulding, one of
his comrades, written twenty years