his latter
years, writes to me: "He had dark gray eyes; a handsome straight nose,
which might perhaps be called large; a broad, high, full forehead, and a
small mouth. I should call him of medium height, about five feet eight
and a half to nine inches, and inclined to be a trifle stout. There was
no peculiarity about his voice; but it was pleasant and had a good
intonation. His smile was exceedingly genial, lighting up his whole face
and rendering it very attractive; while, if he were about to say
anything humorous, it would beam forth from his eyes even before the
words were spoken. As a young man his face was exceedingly handsome, and
his head was well covered with dark hair; but from my earliest
recollection of him he wore neither whiskers nor moustache, but a dark
brown wig, which, although it made him look younger, concealed a
beautifully shaped head." We can understand why he was a favorite in the
society of Baltimore, Washington, Philadelphia, and Albany, as well as
of New York, and why he liked to linger here and there, sipping the
social sweets, like a man born to leisure and seemingly idle observation
of life.

It was in the midst of these social successes, and just after his
admission to the bar, that Irving gave the first decided evidence of the
choice of a career. This was his association with his eldest brother,
William, and Paulding in the production of "Salmagundi," a semi-monthly
periodical, in small duodecimo sheets, which ran with tolerable
regularity through twenty numbers, and stopped in full tide of success,
with the whimsical indifference to the public which had characterized
its every issue. Its declared purpose was "simply to instruct the young,
reform the old, correct the town, and castigate the age." In manner and
purpose it was an imitation of the "Spectator" and the "Citizen of the
World," and it must share the fate of all imitations; but its wit was
not borrowed, and its humor was to some extent original; and so
perfectly was it adapted to local conditions that it may be profitably
read to-day as a not untrue reflection of the manners and spirit of the
time and city. Its amusing audacity and complacent superiority, the
mystery hanging about its writers, its affectation of indifference to
praise or profit, its fearless criticism, lively wit, and irresponsible
humor, piqued, puzzled, and delighted the town. From the first it was an
immense success; it had a circulation in other cities, and ma