The Arkansaw traveler., 1883-05-05
lRviNo.s POWER or fpEALixA-
 TON.
U, OLIVER wgNnsti. HolMrs.

0nty wcrd CT kfatcfui rcnemufauce. On this most interesting occasion. We all cwe deb, to the memory of Irving. hat none feel it more deeply than those of us who belong Ia the generation that ls pass ing away.
 As children we were bred in q foreign literature Ne seaa ,hs sse..e= es Miss EdgewoTth. and Mrs ppie, and Hannah More. and Mrs. Bafhauld. Ii Romulus and Remus were sucked by a shc-wolf. we children ml .ht as ,tul, be said to have had the British i,oness as our intellectual we,-narse. What d,d we know ot my lord and my lady. ot tha:ehed houses. ot latks and niKhtingales. ot shepard& ot poachcr>s ot China oranges. oi bariings- out, and hundred other things well known ,o csen English boy Ba, where was the New England boy who d,d no, know ichabod Crane as soon as he SAW him Where was the American boy who did no, feel when he hss, hreathed the air of irvings wholesome stories tha, this was the breath fresh tsom hts own hills aud valleys and fo,cs,sg
 The poet and the fomaneer give back more than they borrow from the scenes which lend them their inspiration. What was this broad stream that runs by yout walls before |, was pecelcd ny the creative touch ot your story -tellei's imagination! It is na longer Hudson's rivesu ,s lrv- ing'> The trumpet os Anthony Van Cor lear xstii rings over the ~,dc cspansc ot the Tappan Zee. The rolling balls ot Ihc old n,ne-p.n. players arc s,.ll heard by the sosagef. laundering m the tat-eh kaats- kills. There |. not brock that tamhlex into the rivet tha, docs moi hahble the name ot Irving. nai wave which docs not murmut hts remembrance. l walk your ,htongcd thosoughtares. and all at once my fancy earnes me back to the days and scenes oi lntngs New Amssct. dam. The pavement becomes green turf few scattered houses show their gables here aud there. ,ne stands apart. moro ior,ily than the rest What is this sound hear from the steep that stretches along it's stae ii ts a strange sound to he heard ihr ugh all ihi> lumnlt, bu, must he half dreaming tlalk Abrupt. intermittent. thyihmisal, resonant. em
 pha,te n mus, be | is the wooden lcs at brave. peppcty. lsbsnsc1aus. ,tte. ptcssihle old ietct stufNeSant Hard knpwH l4et the baud headed hot. hearted one-iegged hal t~e hsst,i gov etaet of ihts aasicnt Manhattan. dread, a ilontiShng settlement Niiii burg garmee>. icts ana >ohcpenS m pla oi aldermen and eanstablc. S,gstious old dutch. men. ia hN on ,his tongue at lnd-e tongue that laps up inc cream ot the commerce at a continent
 Hut ho~ pfoSai, the great city ot New York would look. bui itaf the pen oi pied. si,h kp,ekerboeket nder ,t> magic charm the Bowety itself is still ffagrsn, with the iiowets ci t,s Afeadian summers. Messed br the memory ot the writer sho helped ,a teach us that ~e have country. and showed Us that ~e were ,o have s literature of out own.
 l, was my privilege ,o have one bfief glimpse of Washington Iring. n his own home at Suunysidr. ,o hieh vss dfiven from Nonkef. bs m, friend the late MF toskens. well remembered by the Spar. ro~ sias. papets Mir lfs,ng was hardly well enough. fear. to receive visitors. bu, he came down ptaifa, and treated me kindly could nol AAclp re. csliing hls own cmottans. aa he Irsetibea them. On his first meeting the English historian Rnseoc. To the young A,nrt,- .n, this mol undis,ingulshcd authos rep fesca,ed the imposing literature of Eng land. the grandeur oi an old world celeb ri,y. " drew back. he sad, with an involuntary fee,ing ef senefaiion" confess to something of the same feeling when l fire stood before Washington h, ,ing. When 8onc hsjs himself lace io face si,h writer nf whom he has heard all his dsys. whose books he has laughed and cried over, shose ideal characters he knows better than he knows mos, of his own relations, ~hose personality he has shaped in his imagination. as it should be to fl, the fsiheshood of h,s ~s.,,nss, |. ls a strange sensa,ion that ae,sea on him. thus confronted wi,h his long unseen friend and bensfaeto, I, vas io inc Aa fl sere awakening from a lifelong dream. icoaid hardly believe ,ha, this aligh,. dellea,e, gentle lnssI.A =a= she same man ~ho wrote the foll,ckinx chap. ,ers Of knickefboekef. Ii could not be that this ~ss he whose ssos,es 1 used ,o read by the light of the astral lamp" in the short evenings of boyhood. when 1 went t0 bed xtth the lamb -Hhcse books could never open sithou. theif bringing a smile to my lips or teH to my eyes. ] wanted mental sscreoscope 10 bring ,he fgure before me and my .deai pof- irai, Of him into single image. came away, knowing thA, had seen him. but no, believing Il. A sweet, placid, benign ant old man, a monument Of himself, si,h its inscription faint, yet sill legible. No. the less va, glad and grateful ,ha, l had enjoyed the privilege of that brsef interview. The time vii come to many among you when # sill bs enough to make a man an object of interested at- tension, that he Is able to say. - have seen Washington Irving" 4 hnndred years from now. and some of the ~ofds printed to-day may be exhgmcd fsom the Of oblivion and. how~vss he seholars and rhstoneians sf the see- sfs4s centennial may snsiis at oas poor ss- lempts af expression, they will recognize n every word true and heanfei. tribute b the memory of the pure, tender, play ul loving author, dear to both Enxiish x0rIt&. t11af dearest fo tsg aa the Azx-Afar