piazza, stretching the whole length of the house, where one can walk in all weathers; and thence by a step or two, on a lawn, with picturesque masses of rocks, shrubs and trees, overlooking the East River. Gravel paths lead, by several turns, down the steep bank to the water’s edge, where round the rocky point a small bay curves, in which boats are lying. And, owing to the currents, and the set of the tide, the sails glide sidelong, seeming to greet the house as they sweep by. The beauty here, seen by moonlight, is truly transporting. I enjoy it greatly, and the genius loci receives me as to a home.’
Here Margaret remained for a year and more, writing
regularly for the Tribune. And how high an estimate
this prolonged and near acquaintance led her to form
for its Editor, will appear from a few passages in her
letters: —
‘Mr. Greeley is a man of genuine excellence, honorable,
benevolent, and of an uncorrupted disposition.
He is sagacious, and, in his way, of even great
abilities. In modes of life and manner he is a man of the
people, and of the American people.’ And again: —
Mr. Greeley is in many ways very interesting for me to
know. He teaches me things, which my own influence
on those, who have hitherto approached me, has
prevented me from learning. In our business and
friendly relations, we are on terms of solid good-will
and mutual respect. With the exception of my own
mother, I think him the most disinterestedly generous
person I have ever known.’ And later she writes: —
‘You have heard that the Tribune Office was burned
