, 1889-05-17
HORACE eREELEYs GRIEF.
How the Great Editor sorrowed Over the
Death of His Only Boy.

How the Great Editor sorrowed Over the
Death of His Only Boy.
Perhaps the most pathetic chapter in
Mr.. Greeley's life was the death of his
idolized boy 'Pick." His grief was al
most beyond control. Margaret Full
Ter, writing from Rome soon after the
failure of the revolution of 40 to her
mother, says:
Receiving, a few days since, a
packet of letters from America, /
opened them with more.feeling of hope
and good cheer than for a long time
past. The first words that met my eye
were these, in the hand of Mr.. Gree
ley: Ah, Margaret The world grows
dark with usl You grieve, for Rome is
fallen; / mourn, for Pickle is dead
II have shed rivers OF tears over
the inexpressibly affecting letter thus
begun. One would think I might
have become familiar enough with
images of death and destruction;
yet, somehow, the image of Picks
little dancing figure lying stiff
and stark, between his parents, has
made me weep moro than all else.
There was little hope that he could do
justice to himself, or lead q happy life,
in 50 perplexed n world; but never was
a character of richer capacity-nevera
more charming child. To me he was
most dear, and would always have
been 80. Had he become stained with
earthly faults, l could never have for
gotten what he was to me when my
soul pinned for sympathy, pure and un-
alloyed. The three children l have
seen who ere fairest in my eyes, and
gave most promise of the future, were
Waldo Emerson), Pickle, Hermann
Clark-all nipped in the bud. Endless
thought has this given me, and a re
solve to seek the realization of all
hopes and plans elsewhere; which re-
solve will weigh with me as much as
it can weigh before the silver cord is
finally loosed. Till then, earth, our
mother, always finds strange unex-
pected ways to draw us back to her
bosom-to make us seek anew q nu-
triment which has never failed to
cause us frequent Sickness"
Mr.. Greeley himself, in his Recollec-
tons, says:
II looked in vain through Italian
galleries, two years after he was taken
from us, for. any parallel to his daz-
cling beauty-a beauty not physical
merely, but visibly radiating from the
soul. His hair was of the finest and
richest gold: 'the sunshine of picture"
never glorified its equal; and the deli
cacy o fhis complexion at once fixed the
attention of observers like the late N. p.
Willis, who had traversed both hem
isphercs without having his gaze ar
rested by any child who could bear a
comparison with this one. > = =
When at length the struggle ended
with his last breath, and even his mo-
Their was convinced hat his eyes
would never again open on the scenes
of this world, 1knew that tho summer
OF my life was over, that the chill
breath of its autumn was at hand, and
that my future course must be along
the downhill of life"
Tho following letter, which is un-
dated, vas evidently written in reply
to one of coincidence:
Your letter, dear R., was written
in your noblest spirit. 1 thank you
warmly for your sympathy. What he
was to me, even you car hardly dream;
you that have two sons, in which the
natural thirst of the heart was earlier
satisfied, can hardly know what my
n ewo lamb was to me. That he
might live, that l might grow daily
better for his sake, that 1 might not
spoil him by overweening love, were
ever recurring thoughts. God be mer,
ciful to mo n sinner New York Tri-
bune.