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James Parton, The life of Horace Greeley, Chapter 8: arrival in New York. (search)
at street and Wall discovered a house that in his eyes had the aspect of a cheap tavern. He entered the bar-room, and asked the price of board. I guess we're too high for you, said the bar-keeper, after bestowing one glance upon the inquirer. Well, how much a week do you charge? Six dollars. Yes, that's more than I can afford, said Horace with a laugh at the enormous mistake he had made in inquiring at a house of such pretensions. He turned up Wall-street, and sauntered into Broadway. Seeing no house of entertainment that seemed at all suited to his circumstances, he sought the water once more, and wandered along the wharves of the North River as far as Washington-market. Boarding-houses of the cheapest kind, and drinking-houses of the lowest grade, the former frequented chiefly by emigrants, the latter by sailors, were numerous enough in that neighborhood. A house, which combined the low groggery and the cheap boarding-house in one small establishment, kept by an Ir
James Parton, The life of Horace Greeley, Chapter 21: editorial repartees. (search)
tle besides; he has never had a dollar from a relative, and has for years labored under a load of debt, (thrown on him by others' misconduct and the revulsion of 1837,) which he can now just see to the end of. Thenceforth he may be able to make a better show, if deemed essential by his friends; for himself, he has not much time or thought to bestow on the matter. That he ever affected eccentricity is most untrue; and certainly no costume he ever appeared in would create such a sensation in Broadway as that James Watson Webb would have worn but for the clemency of Governor Seward. Heaven grant our assailant may never hang with such weight on another Whig Executive! We drop him. Colonel Webb had been sentenced to two years imprisonment for fighting a duel. Governor Seward pardoned him before he had served one day of his term. Provocation. A charge of infidelity, in the Express. Reply. The editor of the Tribune has never been anything else than a believer in the Chri
James Parton, The life of Horace Greeley, Chapter 28: day and night in the Tribune office. (search)
arliest milkmen have begun their morning crow, squeak, whoop, and yell. The first omnibus has not yet come down town, but the butcher's carts, heaped with horrid flesh, with men sitting upon it reeking with a night's carnage, are rattling along Broadway at the furious pace for which the butcher's carts of all nations are noted. The earliest workmen are abroad, dinner-kettle in hand; carriers with their bundles of newspapers slung across their backs by a strap, are emerging from Nassau street, and making their way across the Park—towards all the ferries—up Broadway—up Chatham street—to wherever their district of distribution begins. The hotels have just opened their doors and lighted up their offices; and drowsy waiters are perambulating the interminable passages, knocking up passengers for the early trains, and waking up everybody else. In unnumbered kitchens the breakfast fire is kindling, but not yet, in any except the market restaurants, is a cup of coffee attainable. The very
James Parton, The life of Horace Greeley, Chapter 30: Appearance—manners—habits. (search)
His person and countenance Phrenological developments his rustic manners town Eccentricities Horace Greeley in Broadway—Horatius at church Horace Greeley at home. Horace Greeley stands five feet ten and a half inches, in his stockings. ns contain one or more—always one—of the eccentric sort. It is a way large towns have. I have seen Horace Greeley in Broadway on Sunday morning with a hole in his elbow and straws clinging to his hat. I have seen him asleep while Alboni was singiple in general are shabbiest. Horatius is no such person. No fine gentleman could be brought on any terms to appear in Broadway in the rig he wore on this occasion. My eye was first caught by his boots, which were coarse, large and heavy, such as deed in a naughty world. The service over, he lingers not a moment, and I catch my last glimpse of him as he posts down Broadway toward the Tribune office, the white coat-tails streaming behind him, his head thrust forward into the future, his body <