"Conquest of Mexico," and other now famous works. The difficulties of such an undertaking by a blind man may well be conceived, and these difficulties were increased tenfold by the fact that the original works to be consulted were written in Spanish, a language of whichis first reader was totally ignorant, and who, although taught by Prescott to read the words mechanically, never understood their meaning. He was more fortunate in his later amanuensis, Mr. John Foster Kirk, to whom, on his death in 1859, he left the task of editing the latest edition of his works. Mr. Kirk himself became an historian; his "History of Charles the Bold" is of approved merit. One of Irving's most cherished projects was a history of the Spanish conquest of Mexico, and soon after his return from Europe in 1832 he set to work to arrange the large mass of materials he had collected. He had even got so far as the first chapters of his history, when he was incidentally informed that young Prescott was engaged on a like undertaking. Irving at once renounced the cherished theme. It is possible that Prescott never fully understood the magnitude of his obligation to Irving, as he never alluded to it; but there is little doubt if Irving, then at the height of his fame, had been less generous, the standard history of that eventful period would have been Irving's, and not Prescott's.

Another historian, George Bancroft, whose history of the United States is generally regarded, both in England and America, as the standard history, was a frequent visitor at Sunnyside. After his return from his mission to London in 1849 he took up his abode in New York, and was therefore within easy distance of .Sleepy Hollow. From the far South came William Gillmore Simms, one of the most voluminous and popular authors of his day, but of whom little is now remembered, except by the literary fraternity in America. He was a native of Charlestown, South Carolina, and almost his last work was a collection of the war poetry of the South, published in 1867, soon after the collapse of the Southern rebellion. He was a poet, dramatist, and historian, but his best work was in the department of historical fiction. His "Partisan" and other romances in a connected series present accurate and graphic pictures of the times of the Revolution.

Fitz Greene Halleck, the graceful and finished poet and brilliant wit, who at that time lived in New York, was frequently able to join the gathering. Two other poets are there with whom English readers have since become affectionately familiar. The elder is William Cullen Bryant, whose precocious genius at the age of thirteen years produced a political satire which attained the distinction of a second edition within a few months of its first appearance. His celebrated

Thanatopsis" was written when the poet was but nineteen, and appeared in 1816, and is nowadays to be found in every representative collection of poetry. He removed from his New England home in Massachusetts in 1824, to take up his residence in New York, so that he also was a comparatively near neighbour of Irving. Henry

Wadsworth Longfellow, whose death is still fresh in the recollection of all, was only beginning to be known on this side of the Atlantic when Geoffrey Crayon kept open house at Sunnyside. His "Hyperion" was published in 1839, and from that date a long interval elapsed before a Liverpool printer ventured to produce the first volume of Longfellow's collected works which appeared in England. Oliver Wendell Holmes was also a poet, and a collection of his works appeared in England as long ago as 1845, but the most lasting association connected with his name is "The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table," which he contributed to the first twelve numbers of the "Atlantic Monthly" during 1858. How many different editions have since appeared in England and America, and how many readers have enjoyed its delicious humour, it is impossible to conjecture. Dr. Holmes also wrote some learned treatises on intermittent fevers and cognate subjects, but these, however meritorious, scarcely strengthen his claim to a place in the symposium.

Nathaniel Parker Willis, "Namby Pamby Willis," as he was termed by his contemporaries, because of the parallel suggested by his initials, was a miscellaneous.writer and journalist, whose "Pencillings by the Way," "Dashes at Life," and other volumes of collected sketches, still possess interest. The super-extra polish which he endeavoured to give to his writings was so obviously intruded, that it gave rise to the sobriquet under which he was known. Ralph Waldo Emerson, the sage of the transcendental school of New England writers. who lived like a medieval hermit, and whose writings captivate by their style, however else they may affect the intelligence of the reader, has scarcely yet been assigned his true place in the literary history of the century. That the grave and simple-hearted philosopher of Concord should have found congenial company at Sunnyside is powerful evidence of the many-sided charms of Irving's mind. John Pendleton Kennedy was a writer in some respects resembling Simms. Like the latter, he was imbued with Southern ideas, and like him, also, his best works were historical romances of the Revolutionary period, amongst which "Horse Shoe Robinson" and "Rob of the Bowl" are the best remembered. Kennedy was born in Baltimore, and took an active part in Maryland politics, being at one time Speaker of the State House of Delegates, and at another a member of the National House of Representatives.

The two most intimate friends of Irving were also his neighbours. James Kirke Paulding, his brother-in-law, and the companion of his youth, lived a short distance above Poughkeepsie, on the Hudson, not far from "Sleepy Hollow." Paulding took part in the production of "Salmagundi," and subsequently wrote a number of tales and sketches which still retain currency in America. Henry Theodore Tuckerman, the second of the twain, has given us the most lifelike picture of Irving and his home at Sunnyside that has been wiitten. He has produced many things besides-poems, essays, biographies, and criticisms-and has uniformly shown himself to be an appreciative and. kindly critic and most graceful writer.

In the group of portraits which surround Irving in our engraving it is curious that three of the persons should have held the important office of Secretary of the United States Navy, a position equivalent to that of one of our Cabinet Ministers. The three thus distinguished were Paulding, Kennedy, and Bancroft.

The page in the literary history of America which the group at Sunnyside represents has been turned. Most of the men are dead, but each took part, according to his ability, in laying the foundation of a mighty fabric, of which the cornerstone was the genius of Washington Irving. J. V. W.

T has often been remarked that in England, if attention is called to some little un

known and obscure hamlet, a little research into its records will reveal to the astonishment of the interested inquirer how in the ages long deceased it was the home of great historic characters and the centre of rich historic circumstances. Hughenden in a very remarkable manner illustrates this. It is probably known to few of our countrymen and countrywomen except as the residence of the recently departed statesman, but it has claims upon the lover and visitor of English homes and shrines quite apart from most that belong to its last great resident, Lord Beaconsfield. It lies about a mile from the old town of High Wycombe, the most ancient and important, the largest and the most handsome town of Buckinghamshire, and like that town it is situated in the narrow valleys in the midst of the Chiltern Hills of beautiful Buckinghamshire, in ancient times so-called because covered with beech forests. Few spots in the country are more lovely than this neighbourhood; the hills heave and swell in gentle undula

tions all around, and ancient and immemorial trees seem to assert a modern relationship with the ancient name. Hughenden is a historic site; it stands in the centre of richly-classic historic ground. Amidst these hills and dales some of the homes and haunts of the most illustrious Englishmen are to be found. Close by, within an easy walk, is Great Hampden, the home of the great patriot John Hampden; his old house is still standing. Not far from here is Chalgrove, where he received his fatal wound, and in the churchyard of his village his venerable remains are entombed. Within another easy walk is Beaconsfield, the residence of the great statesman Edmund Burke. The title ought, in all fitting reverence, to have been reserved to that illustrious man; it is understood that the writ was made out by which beneath that title he was to be raised to the peerage, but the death of his son broke the old statesman's heart, and he declined, in touching terms, the coronet which had lost all value in his eyes since he could not bequeath it to his ehild. The whole circumstances ought to have made the title inviolate.

Hughenden Manor, which there can be little doubt stands on the site of the more ancient

manor house of the old lords of Hughenden, has a modern appearance. It is a square building, and it rises on a gentle eminence commanding a view towards Wycombe. The lawns are tastefully laid out and planted with choice flowers and exotic shrubs. Here Lord Beaconsfield's favourite peacocks were wont to strut and scream. The entrance to these private grounds is through the Golden Gate. Here are some fine specimens of cedars of Lebanon-it is said produced by cuttings brought by Lord Beaconsfield from Palestine. On the northern side of the house is a tree planted by the Prince of Wales during his two days' visit in 1880, and on the south lawn two fir-trees planted by the Queen and the Princess Beatrice on the occasion of her Majesty's visit in 1877.

Entering the house we pass through an arch cut in a screen of yew-trees, sequestered and shut in as apparently remote from the great world as if separated by hours of travel instead of a few minutes from the train and within an hour of London. Here the statesman brooded over the tactics of party, and the novelist wove his chains of romance, and the wit forged and sharpened his shafts of epigram. Amidst these woods and grounds he walked and wandered, keeping, his servants say, but very little company, a silent, musing man, not disposed for conversation. He was fond of weaving his fancies round the place.

A little brook, the Hughenden brook-we followed the course of it-takes its rise beyond Lees Farm. It flows by the church, through the park, and falls into the Wye in Oxford Road, It is a little bright, babbling brook, quite too small to be entitled to the name of a river; yet, with its island and little cascades and rustic bridges, it lends a pleasing charm to the landscape as it races on its way to join the Wye. It was perhaps in many ways characteristic of the late earl that he called this little brook "that ancient river, the River Kishon." Another portion of wooded ground he was wont to call his German forest. This is Hughenden Wood, one of the most extensive in the country. There are also in the vicinity the Great and Little Tinker's Wood, and another called the Millfield Wood; and in a clear, open spot, between the two woods, stands an obelisk, erected by Lady Beaconsfield to the memory of her husband's father, Isaac Disraeli, the author of "The Curiosities of Literature." After her death her husband added an inscription perpetuating also the memory of her ladyship.

It might have been supposed that a house so beloved by its late owner would have been traced in some of those descriptions of patrician homes so abundantly strewn along his novels. He was fond of describing the stately homes of England, but it seems as if his own were too simple for the magnificence of his imagination. Yet Hurstley, in "Endymion," looks something like it, "at the foot of the downs, itself on a gentle elevation, an old hall, standing in grounds which were once stately, where yet were glade-like terraces of yewtrees; it stood in what had once been a beech forest, and, though the timber had been cleared, the green land was dotted with groups, and sometimes with single trees, giving a rich wildness to

the scene and sustaining the forest character; but the living rooms of the house were moderateeven small-in dimensions, and not numerous." Such is the appearance of Hughenden.

It seemed to be even more interesting to wander amongst these grounds on the fine summer day when we paid our visit, by the chattering stream, which seems to say

"Men may come, and men may go,

But I go on for ever-"

through the wood, through the gardens and the park, than over the house itself. Ordinarily, as a house, it would not have great claims on curious regards. No doubt, partially reared on an ancient foundation, and from ancient walls, it is not so old as it at first appears to be; and, fond as its owner was of it, its interior does not give an aspect of brightness and cheerfulness. The hall, the staircase, the drawing-room, and the state bedroom are crowded with portraits, almost without an exception, of the earl's political supporters and early friends. Probably most of these were presents. Notably, in the drawing-room, a very fine three-quarter length portrait of her Majesty, painted by Müller, and presented by her to the earl on his seventieth birthday-the most pleasing portrait of the Queen in her later years. which we remember to have seen, and of which, we suppose, no engraving or copy exists. Another original and powerful portrait we could wish to see engraven is that of Lord Byron. The Count D'Orsay, the Countess of Blessington, Maclise's well-known early portrait of Lord Bulwer-Lytton, and in the place of honour, over the mantelpiece, a portrait of the Viscountess Beaconsfield—and, retreating somewhat into the shade, a small but full-length portrait of his early friend Napoleon III. The entire absence of landscape, bits of natural scenery, those delicious illustrations of water, seemed to us singularly significant. In the hall are the portraits of his old chief, "the Rupert of Debate," the late Lord Derby, the present earl, Lord Lyndhurst, Sir Stafford Northcote, and many others, crowding the way to the apartments upstairs. Here, of course, the most interesting room is the state bedroom, the room occupied by the Queen on her visit to Hughenden; and here the most significant portraits are those of the earl's father, grandfather, and other members of his family. Close by this is the earl's bedroom, which has, however, in the new arrangement of the household, undergone a change. Sir Samuel Wilson, however, the present occupant, appears to deal very reverentially with old associations.* The room, Lord Beaconsfield's favourite writingroom, where probably he indulged the fancies of his novels in the morning, and enjoyed his afterdinner cigar, is still, what we suppose it has been for the last thirty years, the most charming room in the house; but this is not the library, that is a

It is only right here to acknowledge the courtesy of Sir Samuel Wilson, to whom we owe the opportunity of a personal acquaintance with its sequestered shades and haunted rooms. It is interesting also to note the transference of the old historical manor into the hands of a prosperous Australian, a worthy type of the energy of our new Colonial. Empire.

more stately and imposing room, and evidently intended not so much for a student's comforts as for the exhibition of his intellectual wealth. Such is Hughenden; but probably when, thirty years since, Mr. Disraeli became its purchaser, he did not know what a veil of singular and interesting tradition hung over the manor and its whole neighbourhood, linking its history to some of the most ancient and most memorable names of our English story.

Into these details it is clear we have no space to enter, but should any reader be disposed to inquire further, he may perhaps be surprised to find in the fifth volume of the Records of Buckinghamshire" that Mr. Downs has found material for some hundred and fifty pages of interesting matter reciting the story of the old place. It seems certain that both Romans and Danes played their part, fought their battles, and left their tesselated pavements and gigantic bones beneath the soil hereabouts. This property was held before the Norman conquest by Edith, queen of Edward the Confessor. Passing on, we find it granted by Henry 1 to Geoffrey de Clinton, the builder of the famous Castle of Kenilworth; and more interesting memories associate it with the honoured name of Simon de Montfort, the Earl of Leicester, who may almost be called the founder of the English House of Commons "Sir Simon the Righteous," as he popularly called; and hence comes at once one of the most probable and pleasing traditions of Hughenden. Hither, after the great battle of

the

was

Evesham, in which Simon de Montfort fell, his son, Richard de Montfort, retired, assuming probably his wife's name of Wellesbourne. A more doubtful story tells how Henry, the brother of Richard, deprived of his sight by a blow in the battle, was saved from death and nourished by a baron's "fair daughter." She conveyed him to a place of safety-a retreat in London; he married her; she nursed him back to health but not to sight, and became in due time the happy mother of one of the best-known damsels of ballad-lore, "the pretty Bessie," the well-known daughter of "the blind beggar of Bethnal Green." Bessie grew up to be a very beautiful creature, of course courted by many suitors, but who turned their backs upon her when they discovered that she was the daughter of a blind beggar.

"Nay, then,' quoth the merchant, thou art not for me;' 'Nor,' quoth the inn-holder, my wife shalt thou be.' 'I lothe,' said the gentle, 'a beggar's degree, And, therefore, adieu, my pretty Bessie.""

At last the story tells us how, when one gallant knight proposed and was accepted, the blind beggar declared his noble degree and his possession of large wealth, upon which happy discovery the "pretty Bessie" and her gallant knight, being duly wedded, tradition brings them to Hughenden Manor with the brother of the bridegroom. All this is very doubtful; but it is not doubtful that Hughenden Manor carries back the memory of its ownership to the De Montfort family, and this