own. If he could be at home the whole time things would be. looked after more carefully than they were now. His employes did as well as he could expect, but perhaps not as well as they might.

"But," suggested Mrs. G., "if I had the charge of affairs, I would give my directions, and they should be obeyed."

"Why, mother, you have charge here-in my absence, at least," rejoined Mr. G.

"Damn it, no I haven't!" was her amiable response. "I'm a cipher here a mere slave. I've no rights; no attention is paid me; no respect is shown me. You know this is so."

This, and much more in the same strain, was spoken, but so rapidly that it would be hardly possible to report it were it worth while.

At length I concluded to return to the hotel where the lodgings had been secured.

"I guess you had better decide to remain all night, and we will look over the farm more in detail in the morning," said Mr. G.

"He can't stay here!" interposed Mrs. G.

"Of course not," returned Mr. G. "I thought you understood that lodgings had been engaged at the hotel." Here I took my departure from the house, to the relief of my hostess, probably-most certainly to my own, though I can not say I was altogether displeased with what I witnessed. I pitied, felt incensed, and disgusted, and yet at times I was a good deal amused. I spent an hour and a half inside the house-perhaps two hours. Only once during that time did Mrs. G. speak kindly and pleasantly, and that was in response to a remark of mine. I said: "Mr. Greeley, I wonder that you did not build a log-house when you came into these woods; it would have been so in keeping with everything else here."

"Oh, yes," chattered Mrs. G., "a dear little log-house, how cosy and nice it would be! I should like a loghouse; how pleasant it might be made; I always did like a log-house."

To her husband she did not speak one gentle, kind, cheerful word. She spoke only to criticise, reprove or berate. On the other hand, he employed only the kindest, most affectionate, most endearing terms. The more frantic her language and manner, the more bland and kind were his expressions. I believe he loved his wife devotedly, and it is not for me to say that she did not love him as well. I can only say, if she did, she had a most extraordinary way of manifesting her devotion.

I will here add that the occurrences above related I have every reason to believe were not uncommon ones in Mr. Greeley's house. They certainly were not if his his brother's testimony is to be relied on, for he told me there was nothing unusual in the scenes I witnessed, and his sister, Mrs. Bush, confirmed the statement.

Alice Cary, who used to visit the Greeleys, has said she was never there in her life when she was not insulted by Mrs. Greeley.

In fact, it is quite evident that she had her peculiarities as well as her husband. Whether she was insane, or nervous, or simply ugly, I do not undertake to decide.

CHAPTER XXX.

More About Chappaqua-A Description of the Farm--Mr. Greeley's Devotion to His Family His Need of a Real Home-Bayard Taylor's Anecdote.

While describing Mr. Greeley's editorial habits, I ought to have stated that he occasionally took it into his head to go through the Tribune "exchanges." I do not now refer to the city journals, copies of which were to be placed on his desk as a matter of course, but to the country press. Once a week, or as often as he had opportunity, he wanted to examine all the country exchanges. He devoted hours to looking them over, to clipping items from them, appending thereto such comments as the reading might suggest. This was pastime to him; through these exchanges he felt the pulse of the country. Of course he could not do this every day. He would not have found time to attend to anything else, for he never looked over a newspaper or read a paragraph when it did not provoke remark of some sort.

The farm at Chappaqua consisted, I think, of sixty acres. There were forty in the original purchase, and twenty were subsequently added. It is situated close to the station thus entitled, on the Harlem railroad. Mr. Greeley's dwelling was something like onefourth of a mile east of the depot. Trees were growing close by the house, and the steps to the piazza leading into the sitting-room were perforated by a live hemlock, on which a hop vine was climbing. The residence consisted of a sitting-room and parlor on the ground floor and sleeping rooms above. Connected with the upright part was an L running back, in which there was a kitchen, wood-house, &c. What struck me as singular was the fact that there was

not the sign of a carpet about the house. There was certainly nothing of the kind in sight, and I doubt if the best room was carpeted. Window curtains, too, were tabooed, the lady of the house considering them a superfluity where there were window blinds. The floor of the room in which I took what was called "supper," and in which I passed a couple of hours, was scrupulously clean, but I have seen apartments that were more extravagantly furnished. The furniture consisted of four cane-seated chairs, an extension table, (used also as centre-table,) and a stand-up desk, such as one may see in any counting-room. There was a fire-place in the room and a pair of andirons. On the little shelf above the fire-place were two clocks, neither of them running. There was no other article in the room.

Mr. G.

as I did,

A large part of the farm was on the hillside sloping to the west. There was a level piece of land on the summit, from which a crop of wheat had been taken, and, judging from the stubble, the yield must have been a good one. I passed over this field with Mr. Greeley, and here I noticed the effect of Mr. G.'s peculiar style of locomotion. The harvesters had left a good deal of grain on the ground, and, in passing over it, should have lifted his feet and stepped over it, but his mind was too much occupied for that, and he dragged his feet along until the accumulation of straw impeded progress, when he would stop and remove a sufficient quantity for a small-sized bundle. Of course his men were slovenly, like their employer, or the field would have been properly raked at the outset. The entire farm had a slip-shod look. A little below this field, on a small spot of level ground, stood the famous Greeley barn. It was 40 by 50, made of stone laid up in concrete water-lime. It was four stories in height, and held together by iron rods. The basement was used as a manure cellar, the second floor for stock, and the other stories for hay and grain. It was intended to be a model

barn, but was probably the only one of the kind ever built. It must have cost three or four times as much as the house, and was a far more imposing structure. It appeared to me to be needlessly expensive, and I suspect it was never filled. There was a little stream running down the side hill not far from the house, and I judged from appearances that he had tried to do something at fish-raising, also at irrigation, but the dams that had been erected for these purposes had been abandoned; in fact, it was evident to me that farming was not Mr. Greeley's best hold.

Still, this small farm, mostly side-hill land, and little of it of excellent quality, had a home-like appearance to him, and he doubtless felt at home when he went there. It may have reminded him of the hilly and unproduc tive lands in New Hampshire and Vermont, on which he had labored before entering the printing office to acquire a knowledge of "the art preservative of arts." I can not be mistaken in saying Mr. Greeley was very much of a home body;" that is, he loved the family institution, the domestic establishment. He adored his wife and idolized his children; his love for the family was so strong that he excused the vituperative chidings of his wife, and didn't appear to realize that his home was unlike that of most married people. At any rate, he appeared to think that whatever his wife did was exactly right. He always spoke to and of her in the most endearing terms, and seemed anxious to do everything in his power to make her happy. No matter how sharply or bitterly she addressed him, he returned only words of kindness and affection. I have always entertained the opinion that if he had had a wife on whom he could have leaned, one who would have made him a home and a pleasant one, one able to advise with him, who would have greeted him with cheerful words and not with fearful upbraidings, he might have been a very different man from the one of whom I have been writing. He was so