James Parton, The life of Horace Greeley

‘Greeley, you must treat upon that suit, and no mistake,’ said one.

‘Oh, of course,’ said everybody else.

‘Come along, boys; I'll treat,’ was Horace's ready response.

All the company repaired to the old grocery on the corner of Duane-street, and there each individual partook of the beverage that pleased him, the treater indulging in a glass of spruce beer. Posterity may as well know, and take warning from the fact, that this five-dollar suit was a failure. It had been worn thin, and had been washed in blackened water and ironed smooth. A week's wear brought out all its pristine shabbiness, and developed new.

Our hero was not, perhaps, quite so indifferent to his personal appearance as he seemed. One day, when Colonel Porter happened to remark that his hair had once been as white as Horace Greeley's, Horace said with great earnestness, ‘Was it?’—as though he drew from that fact a hope that his own hair might darken as he grew older. And on another occasion, when he had just returned from a visit to New-Hampshire, he said, ‘Well, I have been up in the country among my cousins; they are all good-looking young men enough; I don't see why I should be such a curious-looking fellow.’

One or two other incidents which occurred at West's are perhaps worth telling; for one well-authenticated fact, though apparently of trifling importance, throws more light upon character than pages of general reminiscence.

It was against the rules of the office for a compositor to enter the press-room, which adjoined the composing-room. Our hero, however, went on one occasion to the forbidden apartment to speak to a friend who worked there upon a hand-press that was exceedingly hard to pull.

‘Greeley,’ said one of the men, ‘you're a pretty stout fellow, but you can 't pull back that lever.’

‘Can 't I’ said Horace; ‘I can.’

‘Try it, then,’ said the mischief-maker.

The press was arranged in such a manner that the lever offered no resistance whatever, and, consequently, when seized it,