s and balconies to wave
farewell to him as he left, and to welcome his return as a victorious
conqueror. Lastly we see him, furious with rage, menacing the British
fleet which has come to take possession of the town, threatening
vengeance dire upon the English king, and still cherishing his wrath
with fiery bravery when the enemy finally occupy the old Dutch town
and proceed to transform it into an English city. The book was read
with interest, admiration, or amazement as the case might be. Some
said it appeared too light and amusing for real history, others
claimed that it held stores of wisdom that only the wise could
understand; others still complained that the author was no doubt
making fun of their respectable ancestors and had written the book
merely to hold them up to ridicule. Only a few saw that it was the
brightest, cleverest piece of humor that had yet appeared in America,
and that its writer had probably a career of fame before him.

The author was Washington Irving, then a young man in his
twenty-seventh year and already known as the writer of some clever
newspaper letters, and of a series of humorous essays published in a
semi-monthly periodical called _Salmagundi_.

Irving was born in New York on April 3, 1783, and was named after
George Washington. The Revolution was over, but the treaty of peace
had not yet been signed, and the British army still remained in the
city, which had been half burned down during the war.

New York was then a small town, with a population of about one
seven-hundredth of what it now has; beyond the town limits were
orchards, farms, country houses, and the high road leading to Albany,
along which the stage coach passed at regular times. There were
no railroads, and Irving was fourteen years old before the first
steam-boat puffed its way up the Hudson River, frightening the country
people into the belief that it was an evil monster come to devour
them. All travelling was done by means of sailing vessels, stage
coaches, or private conveyances; all letters were carried by the
stage-coach, and every one cost the sender or receiver twenty-five
cents for postage. The telegraph was undreamed of, and if any one had
hinted the possibility of talking to some one else a thousand miles
away over a telephone wire he would have been considered a lunatic, or
possibly a witch. In fact New York was a quiet, unpretentious little
town, whose inhabitants were still divided into English or Dutch