correspondence, after Miss Cheney, in the pursuit of her vocation, had removed South. The union proved a happy one, and six children have been the crowning joy of their domestic felicity. In their home circle they have been called to pass through severe affliction. One after another of their interesting children have passed away by death, till two only remain to them. On account of the meager income from the New Yorker, Greeley at this time wrote much for other periodicals. The leading articles of the Daily Whig were for a long time the fruit of his pen, and in 1838 he consented to take the editorial charge of the Jeffersonian, a weekly paper got up and sustained one year, at Albany, as a campaign paper, for special political purposes, by the Whig State Committee. During the memorable Presidential campaign of 1840 Horace Greeley & Co. issued the Log Cabin, to be published six months for fifty cents. Of the first number edition after edition were called for until 48,000 were sold, and the rush continued until the list reached almost 90,000. The closing number of the series announced its reissue as a family paper, which was continued with moderate success until after the death of President Harrison, when, in April, 1841, both it and the New Yorker were merged in the Tribune. This is the crowning enterprise of his life. At the commencement of this herculean undertaking it was well known that its projector was as destitute of means of his own as on the day he first entered New York. But he was known to be a man of incorruptible integrity; one who would pay his debts at any and every sacrifice; one incapable of contracting an obligation which he was not confident of being able to discharge. In other words, he held the enchanter's wand, which unlocks the miser's chest and opens the floodgates of genius. The Tribune commenced with about 600 subscribers; 5,000 copies were printed, and We found some difficulty in giving them away," says Mr. Greeley in a subsequent statement. The expenses of the first week were five hundred and twenty-five dollars, and the receipts ninety-two dollars. A sorry prospect for a publisher whose only capital was his genius and his honor. But the Tribune was a live paper. "Fight" was the word with it from the start; fight" has been the word every since; "fight" is the word to-day. If it had been let alone it would not have died-its genius and power were a sufficient guaranty against such a catastrophe; but its progress on the first days 66 of its existence was greatly accelerated by jealous efforts to crush it on the part of a rival publication. The Tribune at once assumed a commanding position among the literature of the country, and nothing was wanting but an efficient business partner to insure a brilliant success. Such an one presented himself in the person of Thomas McElrath, and under his direction the Tribune office has become one of the best conducted newspaper establishments in the world. From the day on which these two gentlemen, so admirably calculated to coöperate in just such an enterprise, associated themselves in conducting the publication, the Tribune became one of the institutions of the country; and has progressed, with accumulating energies, in enlarging the boundaries of its discussions until there is nothing in the whole circle of human knowledge too trivial or too mighty, too simple or too erudite, to find a place in its columns. Its prosperity has kept pace with its increasing interest, until its aggregate subscription listsdaily, weekly and semi-weekly-exceed 225,000. Although we have just arrived at the point when our hero has achieved a position which places him before the world in the symmetry and magnitude of his beautiful and gigantic proportions; where he wields a pen whose magic touch stirs the vibrations of the popular clement to the extremities of the republic, and whose influence is circumscribed only by the globe; yet it seems scarcely necessary to continue the narrative further, for the Tribune and Horace Greeley are so identified that he who knows the one needs no introduction to the other. The uncalculating fearlessness with which he utters his opinions on passing events, the boldness with which he advocates the cause of the oppressed whenever humanity requires a champion, the generous liberality with which he distributes aid wherever suffering humanity needs relief, are the distinguishing traits of his individuality. THE WAR-HORSE WITHOUT RIDER.. "Saddled and bridled and booted rode he, A plume in his helmet, a sword at his knee; But hame cam' the saddle, a' bluidy to see, And hame cam' the steed, but hame never cam' he! Down cam' his gray father, sobbin' sae sair; There stood the fleet steed, a' foamin' and hot; curiosity. and may well find a place in our cabinet of distinguished citizens. The character of Mr. Bennett has been, perhaps, the subject of a greater variety of opinion and called forth a wider diversity of criticism, from bitter invective to indiscriminate eulogy, than that of any other public man now acting a part on the stage of life. Standing as a universal censor and prompter on the wide and thronged stage of human affairs, and ex MR. BENNETT, the subject of this sketch, has secured a wide and conspicuous notoriety. Whatever diversity of opinion may exist in regard to his moral rectitude and the hidden springs which prompt him to action, his name is largely interwoven in the annals of our city, State, and nation. As the conductor of a public journal, his influence is surpassed by few in the Republic. In all the departments of busi-ecuting the duties of his office, if not always ness, of politics, and public amusement, the active coöperation of the Herald is sought as a strong guaranty of success, while his opposition to any enterprise is sure to rally sufficient elements of resistance to test the power of the unlucky wight who may encounter his displeasure. Standing thus before the world as a critic and a cultivator of the public taste, a teacher of morals, of science, of commerce and politics, his character and acts, with all the circumstances attending their cultivation and development, are legitimate subjects of popular justly, at least fearlessly, he is brought in constant conflict with the sentiments, the interests and the passions of men able to resist aggression and chastise an assailant. James Gordon Bennett was born at New Mill, Keith, in Banffshire, Scotland, in the year 1800. His family were Catholic, and at the age of fifteen he left his elementary school at Keith and entered a Catholic seminary at Aberdeen, where he remained two or three years, and was educated for the church. After leaving school he gave much of his time to miscellaneous reading and traveling over different parts of his native land, visiting the spots rendered sacred by the genius of her historians, her orators and her poets. In the meantime he had perused some American books, and among them the autobiography of Franklin, which had inspired an ardent desire to visit the new world, and identify himself with her rising fortunes. He had, however, formed no definite purpose, until meeting a friend one day on the street, who informed him that he was about to sail for Halifax; the impulsive nature of our hero was aroused, he resolved to embark with his friend, and they set sail together on the 6th of April, 1819. On his arrival, having no other means of support, he resorted to teaching, first in Halifax, and then in Maine. But his experience in teaching was unsatisfactory, and as soon as his finances would permit, he made his way to Boston. Here he was destined to struggle hard against fate before finding employment. At length, however, he secured an under clerkship, and afterward became proof reader in a publishing house. In 1822 he proceeded to New York, and there supported himself by collecting city items and preparing matter for the newspapers, till chance brought him acquainted with one of the proprietors of the Charleston Courier, with whom he proceeded to that Southern metropolis, and toiled in the editorial capacity during most of the year 1823. His position, however, was unsatisfactory, and he returned to New York and advertised himself to open a commercial school in Ann street. This project meeting but little encouragement, we next find him attempting a course of lectures on political economy in the vestry of the old Dutch Church at the corner of William and Ann streets. At that time lectures were unusual, except delivered by clergymen, who seemed to have a monopoly of that kind of oral literature, since grown so fashionable and universal; and the enterprise of Mr. Bennett failed of success. Our hero, not the least daunted by these untoward results, turned again to the public press as the most promising field of labor, and secured an arrangement as reporter for the National Advocate, published by Mr. Snowden, and sustained as the organ of the Democratic party. Soon after this he made an effort to become proprietor of a paper, and purchased of Mr. John Tryon the New York Courier, the first Sunday paper ever attempted in America. The purchase was made on time, and finding it unprofitable, on account of public prejudice, he reconveyed it to its original projector, and its publication ceased. How rapid the change of public sentiment, which now sustains a half dozen Sunday journals in New York alone! Mr. Bennett made rapid improvement and secured extraordinary facilities as a reporter. The citizens were frequently astounded and delighted by the richness and fullness of his reports of matters, supposed by the parties interested to be entirely secluded from the public eye. The bank parlor, the green-room, the private boudoir, and even the sacred recesses of the domestic fireside, seemed open to his scrutiny, and to afford subjects for his inquisitorial pen. His mock sympathy, his cutting irony, and his sneering sarcasm drove many a lame duck to seek reprisals through the public press, which seldom failed to furnish him occasion to exult over their final discomfiture. During the general commercial revulsion that pervaded the country in 1826, and culminated in the explosion and exposure of several extensive stock-jobbing companies, indictments for swindling were found against Jacob Barker, Henry Eckford, and a large number of other leading operators in Wall street. This led to preliminary arrangements for a duel between Eckford and Hugh Maxwell, the Prosecuting Attorney, and caused the bankruptcy of thousands. During these exciting events Bennett was in the prime of his reportorial power, and wielded a lance in Wall street that made the bulls and bears of that famous menagerie roar and scrape the sod with rage. He became so truly formidable that the journalists of New York made him the common target on which to expend their envenomed shafts. Early in 1827, the National Advocate having changed its political affinities in consequence of a change of proprietors, Mr. Bennett connected himself with the Enquirer and proceeded to the Federal Capital to act as its resident correspondent. Here a new field was before him ; he entered largely into political discussions, and exerted considerable influence in shaping the policy and selecting the candidates of the Democratic party. He continued in this capacity, visiting occasionally various parts of the country, until 1829, when the Courier, hitherto a rival paper, was united with the Enquirer, and Bennett soon after became an associate editor. In 1832 this journal changed its political course, and Mr. Bennett's connection with it ceased. In October of this year he commenced the publication of a cheap Democratic daily paper, on his own account, but for some cause which he did not choose to explain, discontinued it after thirty days; and purchased an interest in the Pennsylvanian, a Democratic journal, published at Philadelphia. After conducting this one year he disposed of his interest at considerable loss, and again returned to New York. The true secret of our hero's failure, as a political journalist, is doubtless to be found in his independence of character. The slumbering opinion cherished by many Democratic politicians, with respect to his reliability as a party journalist, was divulged by the circumstances in Philadelphia. They feared the man. They rejoiced in his sacrifice. They did not regret that the blow fell out of New York, where it had been proposed to strike it, even before he abandoned the Courier and Enquirer. His sin was that he would not write servilely at the dictation of those whose ambition it was to guide and control the party. Mr. Bennett's next movement was to give form and crystalization to his genius, and the wisdom of his manifold experience, in the New York Herald. The first issue was a small sheet, and sold for one cent. The office was the basement of No. 20 Wall street, and almost the entire business was conducted by himself. No successful enterprise was ever originated under more discouraging circumstances. Its projector was poor and had incurred the zealous opposition of the conductors of the press, and the leaders of the political parties, whose combined attacks excluded him from both social and business positions. But he had well studied his resources and the resistance to be overcome, and brought his light artillery into action in such a shape as to overwhelm his enemies with derision, and pursued them in their retreat with shafts dipped in the rankling venom of mortified pride and offended dignity. In its first stages he avoided all grave discussions, and limited his efforts to the sphere of a gossiping and reporting sheet, content to contribute to the excitements of the day, and thus secure the public attention as an indispensable prerequisite to operations on a more elevated platform. In the prosecution of his purpose he spared neither friend or foe, so that he could raise the whirlwind of popular excitement and exhibit his sarcastic visage borne upward by the fury of the storm. The public press, business exchange, the political rostrum, and even the religious pulpit, aided him with their denunciations. These were not the only instrumentalities which served to assist him in the acquisition of that fame it was his interest and his purpose to secure. The argumentum ad hommem had been brought to bear more than once in the shape of canes and cowhides, applied to his person in the thoroughfares of the city, as a chastisement for personal aggression and to direct against him the force of popular odium. Those little episodes in his public career, and the use he made of them, contributed largely to elevate him to that conspicuous position he now occupies before the world. Such was the origin of the Herald, and such the preliminary training of the man, the emenations of whose pen are to thousands the indispensable accompaniment of their morning meal, and whose genius is exerting an enduring influence in shaping the destinies of our race. From the early struggles of poverty and obscurity he has achieved a high position in the ranks of wealth and among the votaries of knowledge. With the establishment of the Herald this sketch may well close; for our readers are familiar with that journal, and suffice it to say that "James Gordon Bennett is the Herald and the Herald is James Gordon Bennett." JOSEY'S BABY. THE following stanzas tells us, very prettily and explicitly, who is the mother of Josey's baby; but who, pray, is the mother of the stanzas? We find the pretty waif afloat without any mark of its parentage: "Sister Josey's got a baby, (She is but a child herself.) And the baby is a bright eyed, Laughing, crying little elf. Well I mind the April morning I was scarcely five years oldAddie came with smile of gladness, And a wondrous tale she told : How a tiny, pretty creature, To our mother's arms was given, How a white-winged angel brought it From its happy home in Heaven. Mother called our baby Josey, And she was our pet and pride; No one thought of scolding Josey When she pouted, frowned or cried. Cnly think how years crowd round us, Bringing trouble, bringing changeNow that baby's got a baby!— Bless me! aint it very strange? Such a precious, winning darling, Eyes of softest, darkest gray, Cheeks where blessed cunning dimples Play bopeep the livelong day. You should hear him laughing gaily, If you were the crossest fellow, THE COMMODORE'S SON; A Story of Boston and of the Teras Revolution of 1836. DONALD MACFANE AND HIS WIFE. sortment of brushes and brooms. The floor inside was well scoured and sanded, and the shelves and counters gave evidence of a thrift, neatness and care-taking hardly in unison with the dingy appearance of the building, so dark and dismal, and so overshadowed by the loftier buildings opposite and on each side, that it off and get out of the reach and notice of its coarse but pretentious neighbors. TWENTY years ago, at the North End of Boston, in a narrow street, having narrow side-seemed ashamed of itself, and trying to move walks, and granite curbstones as jagged and almost as dangerous as the teeth and tushes of a wild boar, there stood, almost in the shadow of the church where Cotton Mather once preached, a shabby two-story wooden building of no special color, which might have been erected about the time when the author of the Magnolia" and his train of witches enjoyed a short but glorious reign in that part of the city. The second story of this house jutted out far enough into the street to form a considerable awning over the front door of the shop beneath; and, indeed, the whole building leaned forward and sideways, as if just ready for a start to the north-eastward. 66 It is in this shop, late in the Autumn of 1835, and a minute or two after 12 o'clock, M., that our narrative opens. A little white-haired girl of some ten or eleven years, neatly but plainly attired, softly entered the door, and, in a whisper, asked the good dame behind the counter to give her a cent's worth of candy, a good big cent's worth, such as she got last Tuesday. The lady now tending shop alone, as it seemed, was a comely woman of some fifty years, with a kind, benevolent face; which, however, bore unmistakable marks of secret anguish which, though patiently and hopefully endured, was still branding her soul more and more deeply with its scorching iron. She wore on her head a mob cap of muslin, which ill concealed her flowing hair, which was so deeply silvered by time, and grief that it was only slightly flecked by a darker color. Her dress was of black bombazine, made in the fashion of that day, with small bishop sleeves, and on her neck she wore a tidy white muslin half-handkerchief. Her whole appearance indicated that she habitually endeavored to blend neatness with her poverty, as gracefully as possible. The floor of the dingy shop was sunken some distance below the level of the sidewalk, and even below the grade of the street, so that a customer had to enter by descending a couple of rickety, creaking wooden steps, through the cracks of which, in a wet season, the water splashed up almost into the face of a heedless stepper. The visitor then must pass through an ancient double door, painted nearly a rat color, the upper half of which was glazed with diminutive lights, which were interspersed with an occasional "bull's eye," by way, I suppose, of ornament. Over the door was a small "And so ye're come again, my bonny little swinging sign, which a rapid traveler would Jenny Summer," said she, speaking with the scarcely notice, representing, in black and remains of a Caledonian accent, "and ye make white, a Scotch thistle and blooming heather, it Summer indeed to me, when ye let me see and signifying also, in small Roman capitals, your sweet face. Indeed, ye don't know the that the shop was occupied by "Donald Mac- good it does me. And how is Mistress Duffy, fane, grocer." Emblematic signs were more your mother? I shall come and see the gude common in Boston twenty years ago than now, woman soon. Here is the candy, (giving her and more numerous forty or fifty years ago about six times the money's worth.) When ye than then. At the beginning of this century come, tak care always to come just a wee bit and previously such signs were the fashion in after noon; and (pointing her finger upward) Boston, as they are still in England, and in all speak softly when ye speak, for the auld man the large towns of Canada. But the fashion is odd, very odd in his ways, though he is a of signs, like that of all things, passeth away, dear, loving soul. Put it in your pocket now, and you must now ask Drake, the antiquarian, my child, and go, for I hear him coming." if you would know where stood the Green The little girl, thus urged, hurried out, and Dragon, the Bull and Bear, the Golden Keys, the slip-shod, shuffling steps of a person de or any other ancient and famous shop or tav-scending a flight of stairs were distinctly ern. Through a low but wide window on each audible. A sandy-haired man of about the side of the store door you might observe a same age as his wife, or perhaps a few years box of tallow candles, another of garden seeds, older, was Donald Macfane, the grocer. His and another of maccaroni, besides a general as-face was haggard and cadaverous, and his tall VOL III-27 |