these treasures were several pages of a memorandum in ink long since
faded. He kept through life her Bible and Prayer Book; they were placed
nightly under his pillow in the first days of anguish that followed her
loss, and ever after they were the inseparable companions of all his
wanderings. In this memorandum--which was written many years
afterwards--we read the simple story of his love:--

"We saw each other every day, and I became excessively attached to
her. Her shyness wore off by degrees. The more I saw of her the
more I had reason to admire her. Her mind seemed to unfold leaf by
leaf, and every time to discover new sweetness. Nobody knew her so
well as I, for she was generally timid and silent; but I in a
manner studied her excellence. Never did I meet with more intuitive
rectitude of mind, more native delicacy, more exquisite propriety
in word, thought, and action, than in this young creature. I am not
exaggerating; what I say was acknowledged by all who knew her. Her
brilliant little sister used to say that people began by admiring
her, but ended by loving Matilda. For my part, I idolized her. I
felt at times rebuked by her superior delicacy and purity, and as
if I was a coarse, unworthy being in comparison."

At this time Irving was much perplexed about his career. He had "a fatal
propensity to belles-lettres;" his repugnance to the law was such that
his mind would not take hold of the study; he anticipated nothing from
legal pursuits or political employment; he was secretly writing the
humorous history, but was altogether in a low-spirited and disheartened
state. I quote again from the memorandum:--

"In the mean time I saw Matilda every day, and that helped to
distract me. In the midst of this struggle and anxiety she was