The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey Crayon | Page 6

number: the author is a friend of mine, to whom I have introduced
you in your literary capacity. His name is Lockhart, a young man of
very considerable talent, and who will soon be intimately connected
with my family. My faithful friend Knickerbocker is to be next
examined and illustrated. Constable was extremely willing to enter into

consideration of a treaty for your works, but I foresee will be still more
so when
Your name is up, and may go From Toledo to Madrid.
------And that will soon be the case. I trust to be in London about the
middle of the month, and promise myself great pleasure in once again
shaking you by the hand."
The first volume of the Sketch-Book was put to press in London, as I
had resolved, at my own risk, by a bookseller unknown to fame, and
without any of the usual arts by which a work is trumpeted into notice.
Still some attention had been called to it by the extracts which had
previously appeared in the Literary Gazette, and by the kind word
spoken by the editor of that periodical, and it was getting into fair
circulation, when my worthy bookseller failed before the first month
was over, and the sale was interrupted.
At this juncture Scott arrived in London. I called to him for help, as I
was sticking in the mire, and, more propitious than Hercules, he put his
own shoulder to the wheel. Through his favorable representations,
Murray was quickly induced to undertake the future publication of the
work which he had previously declined. A further edition of the first
volume was struck off and the second volume was put to press, and
from that time Murray became my publisher, conducting himself in all
his dealings with that fair, open, and liberal spirit which had obtained
for him the well-merited appellation of the Prince of Booksellers.
Thus, under the kind and cordial auspices of Sir Walter Scott, I began
my literary career in Europe; and I feel that I am but discharging, in a
trifling degree, my debt of gratitude to the memory of that
golden-hearted man in acknowledging my obligations to him. But who
of his literary contemporaries ever applied to him for aid or counsel
that did not experience the most prompt, generous, and effectual
assistance?
W. I.

SUNNYSIDE, 1848.
CONTENTS. ---- Preface The Author's Account of Himself The
Voyage Roscoe The Wife Rip Van Winkle English Writers on America
Rural Life in England The Broken Heart The Art of Book-making A
Royal Poet The Country Church The Widow and her Son A Sunday in
London The Boar's Head Tavern The Mutability of Literature Rural
Funerals The Inn Kitchen The Spectre Bridegroom Westminster Abbey
Christmas The Stage-Coach Christmas Eve Christmas Day The
Christmas Dinner London Antiques Little Britain Statford-on-Avon
Traits of Indian Character Philip of Pokanoket John Bull The Pride of
the Village The Angler The Legend of Sleepy Hollow L'Envoy

THE SKETCH BOOK. ---- THE AUTHOR'S ACCOUNT OF
HIMSELF
I am of this mind with Homer, that as the snaile that crept out of her
shel was turned eftsoones into a toad I and thereby was forced to make
a stoole to sit on; so the traveller that stragleth from his owne country is
in a short time transformed into so monstrous a shape, that he is faine
to alter his mansion with his manners, and to live where he can, not
where he would.--LYLY'S EUPHUES.
I was always fond of visiting new scenes, and observing strange
characters and manners. Even when a mere child I began my travels,
and made many tours of discovery into foreign parts and unknown
regions of my native city, to the frequent alarm of my parents, and the
emolument of the town crier. As I grew into boyhood, I extended the
range of my observations. My holiday afternoons were spent in rambles
about the surrounding country. I made myself familiar with all its
places famous in history or fable. I knew every spot where a murder or
robbery had been committed, or a ghost seen. I visited the neighboring
villages, and added greatly to my stock of knowledge, by noting their
habits and customs, and conversing with their sages and great men. I
even journeyed one long summer's day to the summit of the most
distant hill, whence I stretched my eye over many a mile of terra

incognita, and was astonished to find how vast a globe I inhabited.
This rambling propensity strengthened with my years. Books of
voyages and travels became my passion, and in devouring their
contents, I neglected the regular exercises of the school. How wistfully
would I wander about the pier-heads in fine weather, and watch the
parting ships, bound to distant climes; with what longing eyes