Elizabeth daily monitor. [volume] (Elizabeth, N.J.) 1868-1880, 1873-09-15
BOSS TWEED IN THE WEST.
WIDOW CLIoUoT AND HENRY CLAY REC
LAS IN TILE I,IrpN-Irrr rIoIrcIr

WIDOW OLIQUoT AND HENRY CLAY REGA-
LAS IN THE BURNET HOUSE.
That gem from New York's costly
Ring, VIM. NJ. Tweed, the Black
Prince" of the newspaper correspon-
dent, was yesterday at the Burnet
House. He arrived at one o'clock in
the morning from New York by way of
Columbus, and departed on the $40
evening train for Chicago. He was 40
companied by his dear friend, S. f.
Dewey. OF course he was interviewed.
The reporter was ushered into one of
the two grand parlors on the ground
floor, which had been chartered for
the twenty-four hours visit, and was
seated by a softly-spoken colored man
in velvet armchair, where he waited
until Billy, in the next-reom, gave the
finishing touches to his shining black
beard. The prince bears his trials
nobly there dwelt on his olive colored
plumb face look of serene peace,
touched with shade of sadness, it is
true, such as could permeate only true
martyr, and could the ruthless and
vengeful New York editor who made
such howl about the little financial in
accuracies but have seen him yesterday
afternoon, as he mournfully toyed with
the watch chain that slept in yellow
magnifcence across his paunchy abdo-
men, and heard with what meek obedi-
ence he answered the reporters ques-
tons, that editor must have paused.
Indeed, he would have wept had he
witnessed the subdued pensiveness of
the air with which Mr.. Tweed rang for
cigars and wine, or the grand sadness
of his manner when he pressed hand
full OF twenty-five cent cigars into the
ponche of the reporters coat. He talked
freely. Yes, he had had lots of trouble,
and he was not yet out of it, either.
1t was true that he had been accused of
hiding from the police at his country
house, and he would not be at all sur
prised if unfavorable comment would
be made in regard to his westward trip.
What did he think of those New York
editors anyhow? This question called
for no answer. The dilated pupils and
the purpling Of the little veins about
the tip of his nose told the story. How
did he like what he had seen of Cincin
natl ? 1t was fine city, but if he were
manager of the public works he would
have that hill on Vine street below
Third cut entirely away. Had he been
treated with personal discourtesy by
any one? No, indeed wherever he
had stopped the best rooms in the house
had not been refused him. and the hotel
clerks who, he had remarked, treated
other people with naughty supercilious-
ness, were all hurry the minute he wrote
his name in the register. Mr.. Tweed
made brief and comprehensive review
OF his career, from the days when he
threw off the cabinetmakers cap in the
Houston street shop until the beginning
of his temporary retirement, pausing
every now and then to refill the re-
porters champagne glass. 1t was
moving spectacle, the sight of the great
man when he described his emotions ON
reading the warrant for his arrest. A
less granite person than the reporter
might be excused for soldering And
where was he going, and what was he
going to do, and when was he going
back to New York +? All, he was going
to Chicago, and, as he had been told
that was city of fine opportunities, he
was going to look around there. And
as for returning to his unhappy home ?
His face darkened, and he arose and
paced over to the window. 1t was plain
that the last question had struck home,
and fallen majesty sought to mask its
anguish under pretence of looking out
of the window. The reporter said never
another word, but fining the cham
payne and lighting the remaining cigar,
sauntered across the marble pavement
and down the broad steps on his way to
the office. .ql} r-arE