a stone's throw from the Battery, and we have sometimes
thought that the mysterious footprint might have been Matilda's. At any
rate, the Battery was at that day a place of fashionable resort, and
hence the fair but fragile form of Matilda Hoffman could almost any day
have been seen tripping among bevies of city girls in pursuit of health
or pleasure. But whatever be the history of its origin, the attachment
became one of mutual strength; and while young Irving was surrounded by
piles of lawbooks and red tape, his hope of success was identified with
the name of Matilda. My remembrance of Matilda (her name was Sarah
Matilda, but the first was dropped in common intercourse) revives a
countenance of great sweetness, and an indescribable beauty of
expression. Her auburn hair played carelessly in the wind, and her
features, though not of classic outline, were radiant with life. Her eye
was one of the finest I have ever seen--rich, deep-toned, and eloquent,
speaking volumes in each varying expression, and generally suggestive of
pensive emotion. Irving was about eight years her senior, and this
difference was just sufficient to draw out that fond reliance of female
character which he has so beautifully set forth in the sketch of 'The
Wife.' The brief period of this courtship was the sunny hour of his
life, for his tender and sensitive nature forbade any thing but the most
ardent attachment. What dreams of future bliss floated before his
intoxicated vision, soon to change to the stern realities of grieving
sorrow!

In 1809, Mr. Hoffman removed to a suburban residence in Broadway,
(corner of Leonard street,) and the frequent walks which the young lover
took up that sequestered avenue may have suggested some of the
descriptions of the same street in the pages of the _History of
New-York_, and his allusions to the front-gardens so adapted to ancient
courtship. While at this mansion, amid all the blandishments of hope,
Matilda's health began to fail beyond the power of restoratives, and the
anxious eye both of parent and betrothed, marked the advance of
relentless disease. The maiden faded away from their affections until
both stood by her bed and saw her breathe her last.

The biographer informs us that after Mr. Irving's death, there was found
in a repository of which he always kept the key, a memorial of this
affair, which had evidently been written to some friend, in explanation
of his single life. Of the memorial the followi