"
And as he told it, the old gentleman wrinkled his brow, and tried to put
on the fierce look he would describe.
"It's all there is of it," said he. "If you want to make a story, you
can furbish it up."
There were among other notable people at Saratoga, during the summer of
which I speak, the well-known Mrs. Dr. R----, of Philadelphia, since
deceased,--a woman of great eccentricities, but of a wonderfully
masculine mind, and of great cultivation. It was a fancy of hers to give
special, social patronage to foreign artists; and among those just then
at Saratoga, and the recipients of her favor, were a distinguished
violinist--whose name I do not now recall--and the newly married Mme.
Alboni. Mr. Irving, in common with her other acquaintances, she was
inclined to make contributory to her attentions. To this Mr. Irving was
not averse, both from his extreme love of music, and his kindliness
toward the artists themselves; yet, in his own quiet way, I think he
fretted considerably at being pounced upon at odd hours to give them
French talk.
"It's very awkward," said he to me one day; "I have had large occasion
for practice to be sure; but I rather fancy, after all, our own
language; it's heartier and easier.
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