The Crayon Papers

The Crayon Papers, by
Washington Irving

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Title: The Crayon Papers
Author: Washington Irving
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THE CRAYON PAPERS
by GEOFFREY CRAYON, GENT.

MOUNTJOY: or Some Passages out of the Life of a Castle-Builder
THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE--"A Time of Unexampled
Prosperity"
DON JUAN: A Spectral Research
BROEK: or the Dutch Paradise
SKETCHES IN PARIS IN 1825--From the Traveling Note-Book of
Geoffrey Crayon, Gent.
My French Neighbor The Englishman at Paris English and French
Character The Tuileries and Windsor Castle The Field of Waterloo
Paris at the Restoration
AMERICAN RESEARCHES IN ITALY--Life of Tasso: Recovery of a

Lost Portrait of Dante
THE TAKING OF THE VEIL The Charming Letorières
THE EARLY EXPERIENCES OF RALPH RINGWOOD--Noted
Down from his Conversations
THE SEMINOLES
ORIGIN OF THE WHITE, THE RED, AND THE BLACK MEN--A
Seminole Tradition
THE CONSPIRACY OF NEAMATHLA--An Authentic Sketch
LETTER FROM GRANADA
ABDERAHMAN: Founder of the Dynasty of the Ommiades in Spain
THE WIDOW'S ORDEAL: or a Judicial Trial by Combat
THE CREOLE VILLAGE: A Sketch from a Steamboat
A CONTENTED MAN

* * * * *
MOUNTJOY OR SOME PASSAGES OUT OF THE LIFE OF A
CASTLE-BUILDER
I was born among romantic scenery, in one of the wildest parts of the
Hudson, which at that time was not so thickly settled as at present. My
father was descended from one of the old Huguenot families that came
over to this country on the revocation of the edict of Nantz. He lived in
a style of easy, rural independence, on a patrimonial estate that had
been for two or three generations in the family. He was an indolent,
good-natured man, who took the world as it went, and had a kind of
laughing philosophy, that parried all rubs and mishaps, and served him

in the place of wisdom. This was the part of his character least to my
taste; for I was of an enthusiastic, excitable temperament, prone to
kindle up with new schemes and projects, and he was apt to dash my
sallying enthusiasm by some unlucky joke; so that whenever I was in a
glow with any sudden excitement, I stood in mortal dread of his
good-humor.
Yet he indulged me in every vagary; for I was an only son, and of
course a personage of importance in the household. I had two sisters
older than myself, and one younger. The former were educated at New
York, under the eye of a maiden aunt; the latter remained at home, and
was my cherished playmate, the companion of my thoughts. We were
two imaginative little beings, of quick susceptibility, and prone to see
wonders and mysteries in everything around us. Scarce had we learned
to read, when our mother made us holiday presents of all the nursery
literature of the day; which at that time consisted of little books covered
with gilt paper, adorned with "cuts," and filled with tales of fairies,
giants, and enchanters. What draughts of delightful fiction did we then
inhale! My sister Sophy was of a soft and tender nature. She would
weep over the woes of the Children in the Wood, or quake at the dark
romance of Blue-Beard, and the terrible mysteries of the blue chamber.
But I was all for enterprise and adventure. I burned to emulate the
deeds of that heroic prince who delivered the white cat from her
enchantment; or he of no less royal blood, and doughty enterprise, who
broke the charmed slumber of the Beauty in the Wood!
The house in which we lived was just the kind of place to foster such
propensities.