ment. There is perceptible throughout this series of essays a free gush of sentiment, or of sentimentality, and the writer often indulges in a flight of fancy which would probably have astonished him at a later period of his development. "Hints Toward Reform" is "affectionately" inscribed, with many typographical flourishes, "To the Generous, the Hopeful, the Loving who, firmly and joyfully Believing in the Impartial and Boundless Goodness of our Father, Trust that the Errors, the Crimes and the Miseries which have long rendered Earth a Hell, shall yet be Swallowed Up and Forgotten in a Far Exceeding and Unmeasured Reign of Truth, Purity and Bliss."

In one of the essays of this volume-that on “Human Life”—he pictures the scene which should present itself "to the piercing gaze of an unfettered spirit, unmindful of space, who should scan this fair globe from the central orb of our system," with such detail as to make a sort of geographical epic of the whole. From the "tiger-haunted jungles of India" and the "swarming vales of China and Japan," he marches on, past the "scorched and glowing deserts of Africa, shining in silvery worthlessness and desolation," to this country, with the "prairie openings in its center, which nature, or rather, the red man's annual conflagration, has sufficed to hollow out by imperceptible gradations," and the great lakes, of which he says the "last is surpassing in profundity and beauty;" and thence to the "broad placid surface of the unvexed Pacific,

sprinkled with isles of deepest emerald, where flowers perennial bloom."

GREELEY AS A POET.

It should be known, also, that Mr. Greeley has often "dropped into poetry," and that nearly forty published poems, the product of his muse, are now extant in print. They are less meritorious than his prose, but that is not saying that they are bad verses; for Horace Greeley is certainly one of the most vigorous and felicitous prose writers in America. Of these poems, the most interesting and carefully constructed (and, as it happens, the only love poem in the lot) is called "Fantasies," and bears date May 31, 1834. Therein, after stating that,

"They deem me cold, that through the years departed,

I ne'er have bowed me to some form divine,"

he goes on to explain:

"No! in my soul there glows but one bright vision,
And o'er my heart there rules but one fond spell,
Brightening my hours of sleep with dreams Elysian
Of one unseen, yet loved, aye, cherished well.
Unseen? Ah! no: her presence round me lingers,
Chasing each wayward thought that tempts to rove,
Weaving affection's web with fairy fingers,

And waking thoughts of purity and love."

At the time of composing this, Horace was boarding at the Graham House; and it is more than likely that he never had but one "bright vision" to haunt him in the manner described, and she the veritable one for whom the silk stockings were donned two years afterwards.

Some facts of Mr. Greeley's connection with American politics will be touched upon in the next chapter; and as his life has been one prolonged political campaign, there are but few incidents or episodes which we need stop to relate here. One of these was the Tribune editor's voyage to Europe in 1851, where he served as a juror at the World's Fair in London, and attracted considerable attention as a prominent American politician and agitator-a class which always obtains demonstrative recognition in England. In 1859, Mr. Greeley made the journey overland to California, lecturing and delivering addresses at almost every considerable town. These are the principal travels of our hero, and the principal episodes of his life, outside of politics.

CAPTURED BY THE FRENCH.

An incident of Greeley's European tour has recently been related by Don Piatt (a personal friend and supporter), and is amusing enough to warrant its transcription here:

One sunny summer's afternoon, nearly twenty years since, in beautiful Paris, we were dressing for a dinner party. We had progressed liesurely so far as the immaculate linen, the buff-colored pantaloons with the broad gold braid running the length of each leg, and the patent leather boots, when further adornment was arrested by a row upon the pavement in front of the Legation. Looking through the window we saw our valued friend, Horace Greeley, struggling in the hands of six ruffians, while a gathering crowd looked on with the quiet indifference so peculiar to the French.

It was not wise to rush into that conflict without our diplomatic coat. Could we have added the cocked hat, with national tail feathers of the American rooster, it would have been well. The French mind respects the diplomatic position, being a civilized, a polite nation, and find in the