Bellows Falls times. [volume] (Bellows Falls, Vt.) 1856-1965, 1871-05-12

peen into enc Tribune onice.

APeep into the Tribune Office.
The Tribune is not aristocratieally
lodged. The plain building at the cor
ner of Nassau and Spruce streets, IN
which it is printed and Published is
quite thrown into the shade by the Pala'
ces os the Press in its neighborhood.
Yet no political journal in the country
exercises more powerful influence, ana
few are more prosperous.
Entering the building from Spruce
street, we climb two flights of crooked
stairs, pass through the general editorial
room, open door, and 10 Horace Gree
ley in his sanctum, up to his knees in
country newspapers He is too deeply
engaged in connecting "leader" to
note the presence of an intruder, so we
will take advantage of his abstraction to
"eye him over" as Simon Tappertit
says.
1t is difficult to guess his age from his
appearance. His face, which is almost
as milk white as that of an Albino,
shows no wrinkles, but he is partially
bald, and the remains of his hair, which
were once haxen are silver-white He
looks more like an elderly boy than an
old man; though in reality close upon
three score and ten. He seems to have
thriyen ON temperance, for we should
l.. judge his weight to be at least two hun
bred pounds. That stoop in his shoul.
ders is not caused by the hand of Time,
but is the result of his occupation. No
man can write five or six hours day for
forty years without acquiring perma-
nent arch in his spinal column, His fea-
lures are finely cut, and so mild and
guileless in their expression as to be al
most womanly; but there is a look of
keen sagacity in the blue eyes, and in the
broad and lofty expanse of forehead
above them plenty of room for intellect
ual furniture, and it is there. Mark the
quiet smile on his lips. Surely his oogi-
tations must be satisfactory. Probably
they are always SO, for the smile is ster-
eotyped. To our certain knowledge it
has been there for thirty years.
Were the slapjack hat on the table of
"our moral philosopher " on the head of
its owner, the old white coat that hangs
on the wall on his back, the right leg of
his unmentionables tucked in his boot,
and the tie of his stringy black cravat
adjusted under his left ear, he would pre-
sent much more eccentric and uncouth
appearance than he does while seated in
his sanctum, unconscious of our observa-
ton. When thus got up for the prone
made, and pushing rapidly along with
hitch in his gait, Seemingly produced by
a vigorous attempt of one of his legs to
outfoot the other,) he might easily be
mistaken by superficial observer for a
good natured self satisfied simpleton.
But he has finished his leader and OBJ
serves us.
Good morning, Mr. Greeley"
GOOD morning. What do you wish ?'
"Oh, nothing except the pleasure of
shaking hands with you to-day"
"That's soon done;" and he extends
his "bunch of fves" with friendly heart
mess, if not with the grace of courtier.
We conversed with him for five min
utes about manures and top-dressings,
and the expediency of deep blowing,
paid him few compliments on the agri-
cultural essays with which he occasional
ly favors the public, and then exit; the
oolect of our visit, viz: to freshen our
recollections Of his personal appearance,
in order to give our readers sketch of
him, being accomplished.
Mr.. Greeley, eccentric in everything,
is particularly SO in his penmanship.
We religiously believe that he writes a
worse hand than any other living man.
Take spider, dip his legs in ink, and
place him on sheet Of foolscap, and he
will describe characters quite as legible
to most people as those of the responsible
editor of the Tribune. He converses
well on all subjects, but there is one top.
ic which we would advise strangers who
may visit him to avoid, and that is cop
per mining. He has been hit heavily in
copper speculations, it is said. and if he
ever does swear it is when his equanimity
is ruf1ed by an allusion to the metal in
question.
As H. G. has written his own biogra
ply, and as all the world and his wife
have read it, it, it is unnecessary to give
a memoir of him here.-The Nonpareil
ANEcDoTE OF GIDDINGs.- humor
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