Red Wing sentinel. [volume] (Red Wing, M.T. [i.e. Minn.]) 1855-1861, 1859-12-10

fiYpfu o. tor sew efs hoirnooc 9IjG9os
DAY J 4 VI a..DlEG]EEMBl|!ER El|'Gl,]E' B! .l0,,osI}
:. -. -. ...;.. = !. ii......i -. ........
twenty! i've =; miles from j tic city Of New
York, where he died, r,ste,.as. ,,, or, ID.
~ We. make the, following extracts
from a letter Of THEODORE iTlLToN's
to the A,dependc,,ttor this week, des-
e'ibing a9visit he made to WASHING.
ToN IRvING. They will be read with
extreme intetest :1''E9'os :: S;'"fai"2 =,
~ 'I 80, ,,... - ..1. sUNNYs1DE. a. q ~.
The morning had been rainy, and
the afternoon. showed only q few mo.
mentary openingsof Of clear sky;so that
L saw ,SnNMYsIDB J without the sun.
But. underathe heavy clouds: there was
something awe inspiring in the sombei:
views of those grand hills with their
many colored forests, and. Of Hendrix
Hudson's ancient river Still flowing at
thee feet Of the ancient palisades. @r' .'3' y;
The mansion of Sunnyside has been
standing for twenty-three years ) but
when first its sharp angled roofwedged
it's way up among the branches of the
old woods, the region was. far more q
solitude than now; for ut that time
our busy author had secluded himself
from almost everybody but, one! near
neighbor while; he has since unwit-
tingly gathered around him a little
community of New Y York merchants,
whose elegant country seats, opening
iEt0 each other by mutual INTERVENING
roads, form what looks like one vast
;lna tree estate, called on the time ta.
bles Of the railroads by the honorary
name ot'lrvington. yT9b l'aa ayl,2i;l.ls
?A MR.. 1Rv1NG''s APPEARANCE.
Mr.. Irving is not so old looking as
one would expect who knew his age.
1 fancied him as in the winter of life !;
] found him only in it's Indian summer.
He came down stairs. and walked
through the hall into the back parlor,
with 4 firm and lively tread that might
we'll hayc made one doubt whether he
had truly attained his seventy seventh
year! He was suffering from asthma,
and was. .mufned against the damp air
with a Scotcl, shawl, wrapped like a
loose scarf around his neck; but as
he took his seat in the old armchair,
and, despite his hoarseness and troub.
led chest, began an unexpectedly vi.
|vacious conversation, he made me al
most forget that I was the guest Of
Ian ql' old man long past his :: three 'e S score
% WHAT lie THINKS OF HIS WORKS. I'll
But what should one talk abou,
who had oily half an hour; with Wash.
ington Irving ?, l vcntnred, the ques.
ton, .sf-.-rgss ,,r,,,,,,,,.
Now that YOU have laid aside
your pen, which Of your books do you
look back upon with most pleasure %
~ He Immediately replied, II scarcely
look with full satisfaction upon any
for they do not seem what they might
have been | often wish that coul:
have twenty years more, to take then
down from the shelf, one by one, ano
write them oyer." ",yjlar 1po. III DIV u
ea1 HIS HABITS OF LITERARY LABOR. q.
He spoke Of his daily habits of wri
ting, before he had made the resolu
don to, write no more: His usua
hours of literary work were from NOR
ming to noon. But, though he hat
generally found his mind most vigor
GUS in the early part of the day, he
had always I been en- subjected to mood: 4!
and caprices, and could never tell
when he took up the pen, how man,
hours would pass before he would IL!
;|it down.. v5goG sdt f,aa rorr9an1 ola,
j =" Butt said he, "these caprious pc
J: riods, of the heat and glow ot compo
sition, have been the happiest hours O
my lite. I have never found in any
thing outside Of til. four walls Of n,
study, any enjoyment equal to sitting
at my. writing,desk with a clean page
a new theme, and ::mind awake"
! His literary semployments, he re
marked, had always been more lik,
entertainments than tasks. !o'L+ III
y" Some WRITER'S" says he, "appea1
to have been independent of moods
Sir Walter Scott, for instance, hat
great power of writing, and could worl
almost at any time; so could Crabb.
but seldom wrote well. Iaremern
bcr," said he, "taking breakfast on.
| morning with Rogers, Moore ant
y Crabbe; the conversation turned OF
!, Byron's poetic moods; Crabbc sale
!, THAT however it might be with Lore
Fl Byron, as for himself, he could writ,
as well at one time as at another
! But: said Irving with twinkle of hi
NOR at recalling the incident, ''Crabb,
f has written \ great deal that nobody
!. can read - - d1@aat IS 7aggq -
He mentioned that while living i,
Paris, he went a long period withou
| being able to write. 6 sat down re
peatedly," said he, &c with pen and ink
but could invent nothing worth put
! ting OH paper. AT length, told M,
J, friend Tom Moore, who dropped il
: one morning, that now, after long
] waiting, l had the mood, and woulo
! keep it, and would work il out as long
as it would last, until had wrung my
] brain dry. SO begun to write short
lily after breakfast; and continued with
r|out noticing how the time was passing