The New York Herald Newspaper, November 30, 1872, Page 3

— y. DEATH 02° HR, GREELEY. THE PHYLOSOPHER DROPS OUT OF LIFE, Impressive Ending of a Great Career. SCENES AT HIS DEATHBED. His Last Words, “I Know That My Re- deemer Liveth.” PEACEFUL CLIMAX OF A “BUSY LIFE.” Horace Grecley’s busy life went out yesterday in ene storm of disaster and defeat. While yet the triemphant rejoicings of his opponents are min- @ling in the air he glides from the scene, Asthe Rappy suggestions of the Thanksgiving season are fn every heart, the philosepher and philanthropist, ‘who helped probably more than any contempo- Faneous American to secure the blessings for which thanks are given, has yielded up his mortal spirit and quietly and peacefully glided out “with the tide.” The world was better and nobler for his being in it, and yet he DIED OF A BROKEN HEART, engendered by the disappointment of a high and ‘worthy ambition, and an accumulation of domestic ares which has not recently had its parallel. Never, perhaps, have the bitter frosts of Novem- ber blasted such promising hopes of May. But five Months ago Horace Greeley was the strong, sturdy, hopeful, almost invincible champion of a great party, pushing on without apparent impediment to the Presidency—a prominent candidate for the highest honors the nation could bestow—the standard-bearer of a regenerated party, the chief- tain who seemed to have wheeled the democracy into the ranks of purest republicanism, THE APOSTLE OF AMNESTY AND PEACE, ‘and within a few short months he lies inanimate, deaa of a broken heart, shattered by disaster and defeat. FE One mile from Pleasantville, on what is termed the “Bedford Road,’’ within a few miles of his well- beloved farm at Chappaqua, at the residence of his friend, Dr. Choate, the philosopher breathed his last, It is @ pleasant old farmhouse of two stories, with piazzas and gables, sitting far back from the road, and overlooking from its hillside elevation the long stretch of biue hills towards the Hudson and the low line of blue water level on the Sound. On Thursday of last week Mr. Grecley took up his abode with his friend. -“Come with me,’ said Dr. Choate, ‘and I will take care of you.’ He went, glad to be among the hills of his Chappaqua and away from the busy tongues of in- truders and the unsympathetic hum of the city. His prostration, frst considered only a nervous disorder, rapidly grew more serious, until Dr. Choate felt compelied to call in aid, and Drs, Brown-Sequad, Cracowitzcr and Brown responded to higsummons. On Wednesday the Philosopher was quite cheerfalt and everything promised well, but on Thuraday—Thanksgiving day—when the na- tion as one man was rejoicing in the many blessings bestowed upon it, the hero who had so worthily contributed to those blessings was found to be failing fast. Ina Consultation among the physicians, it was ad- mitted that his life was almost beyond hope, and- early yesterday morning it was known that THE STAUNCH OLD PHILOSOPHER ‘was dying. His néar personal friends at once con- gregated about him and watched with faint hopes the last flickering of his life lamp. During yester- Gay morning he lay unconscious, breathing heavily but regularly. Early in the day he appeared to re- vive, and the physicians secmed to entertain hopes, 80 lavorable were the symptoms. Dr. Choate put is ear to the heart, however, and said, “Gentic- men, it beats fainter and fainter.” At about one o'clock THE DYING 84GB opened his eyes, glanced about him, recognized Mr. John R. Stuart, and fainly asked for water. It Was offered him, but he did not drink, and sunk back again into a heavy stupor, which was varied only by fitful mutterings, until near six o'clock, when he seemed to recover consciousness again. He looked upon thoge about him, and said in AN IMPRESSIVE WHISPER, “I know that my Redeemer liveth. It is done.” ‘Thence he commenced to fail rapidly, giving no answer to the inquiries of those about him, and at ten minutes of seven, without an apparent throe the life of the great man passed away. - Mrs, Stuart, who had been untiring in her devo- tion to her life-long friend, had ber hand upon his forehead, and John K. Stuart was anxiously counting his pulse when the last breath of his mortal life passed quietly through his lips. Dr. Choate put his hand upon the heart and said “He is gone.” THE FRIENDS ABOUT HIS DRATHBED ‘were Whitelaw Reid, Dr. Brown, Dr. Choate, Mr. and Mrs. Stuart, Miss Lamson and Mr. Hart. They bent their heads upon their hands and silently wept, His daughter Ida, upon whose head amic- tions have been heaped, was alone in another room, already buried in grief over the blow that ‘Was inevitable, and her kind friend, Mrs. Stuart, thoughtfully and gently broke the news of its com- ing to her. TRE REMAINS. were dressed and laid to await removal, in the parlor, while Dr. Choate, Mra. Stuart, Miss Law. Bon and a icw other fricnds remained to watch through the night beside them. pe The snow had fallen thickly all day, and its heavy; white drapery was upon the earth and a driving hail was beating the chilly air as the HERALD re- porter entered his sleigh to be driven to Tarry- town, IN THAT SLEEPY HOLLOW OF A VILLAGE the lights were yet brightly burning, the jingle of merry sleighbells was making happy suggestions of Winter frolics, and the pufiing of the railroad engines suggested the untiring and unceasing round that the world’s commerce rolls, but on all lips was the one query—“Any news of Uncle Horace ?” The little village seemed filted only with those to whom his death was a personal misfortune, ‘The bartender at the hotel lowered his voice at the mention of the old man’s death, the dashing sleighs drew up fora moment that the occupants might inquire if it were reaily true; and even the railroad officials—those brusque contemners of hu- manity—were more gravely tender of the feelings Of ticket purchasers. The news of the old states- man’s death seemed to have fown abroad upon the wings of the wind, and with it to have shed a gen- tle sorrow upon all it reached, MR. GREELEY'S REMAINS ‘will Ne at Mr. Choate’s house to-day and to-morrow Dight will probably be brought to the city. The present intention is to bury him irom Dr. Chapin’s church on Tuesday, but the programme may be changed to suit the desires of such public bodies as Propose to take part in the ceremony, THE SCENE AT THE DEATHBED, {From the New York Tribune, Nov. 30.) ‘30 far as any of his associates knew Mr. Greeley ‘Was in almost as good health as asual when, on the day after the election, he wrote the card announc- ing his resumption of the editorial charge of the Tri- dune. His sleeplessness was known to have become greatly worse, but for years he had euffered more or leas from the same dimMculty ; and, as is now clear, suicient allowance had not been made for the intense strain upon him throughout the summer, end specially during the last month of his wife's filmes. But it soon became evident that his strength was unequal to the hard task to which he ct himself. He wrote only three or four careful articles, no one of them half @ column in iength, The most notable, perhaps, was that entitled “Conclusions,” wherein he summed up his views of the canvass, Jo all be wrote Jess thap three aud @ balf columns ater ms revurn, contrfputing to only four tsucs of the paper, Two or three times he handed his assistant short articles saying, “There is an idea worth using, but I haven't felt able to work it out properly. You had better put it im shape.” At last, on the 12th inst., he abandoned the effort to visit the office regularly and sent for the family physician of Mr. A. J. Jonnson, the friend with whom he was @ guest, and in whose house his wife had died. Every effort was made to induce sleep, but he grew steadily worse, until it became evident that his case was critical. Dr. George C. 5. Choate and others were called in consultation, and finally it was decided to take him to Dr. Choate’s residence, two or three miles distant from Mr. Greeley’s own country home at Chappa- qua. Here he received the unintermitting atten- tion of Dr. Choate, and here Dr. Brown-Sequard, Dr. Brown and others were called in consultation, The Insomnia had developed into inflammation of the brain, and under this the venerated patient rap- idly sank, At times he was delirious; at other thmes as headed asever. He lost flesh and strength Btertling rapidity, and in a few days the possibility of his speedy death forced itself into unwilling recognition. It was not, however, until Thursday last that his associates and family brought themselves to admit it, and even shen they still clung to his faith in the vigor of his constitution, On Wednesday night he failed very rapidly. Thursday afternoon and evening he seemed somewhat easter. During the night he slept very uneasily, muttering occasion- ally and frequently raising his right hand. Toward morning he was more quiet, and between eight and nine o'clock tell into a nearly an un- conscious condition, which continued, with some intervals, through the day. He made occasional exclamations, but many of them, in consequence of his extreme weakness and ap- Parent inability to finish what he began, were unintelligible, About noon, however, he said quite distinctly and with some force, “I know that my Redeemer liveth.” During the day he recognized various people, bis daughter many times, the mem, bers of his household at Chappaqua, Mr. John R. Stuart and Mr. Reid. On the whole he suffered little, seemed to have no more than the ordinary restlessness which ac- companies the last stage of disease. During the day his exremities were cold and there Was no pulse at the wrist. The action of the heart ‘was very intermittent and was constantly diminish- ing in force. Hehad not asked for water or been willing to drink it since his stay at Dr. Choate’s, but during Friday he asked for it frequently. Up to within half an hour of the end he manifested in various ways his consciousness of what was going on around him, and even answered in monosylla- bles, and intelligently, questions addressed to him. About half-past three he said, very distinctly, “It is done; and, beyond the briefest answers to questions, this was his last utterance. His youngest-@aughter, Miss Gabrielle, was with him through Thuraday evening. Throughout Fri- day the elder daughter, Miss Ida, was in constant attendance, as she had been durmg the whole of his illness, and of Mrs. Greeley’s before him. Other members of his Chappaqua houschold were present, with Mr. and Mrs. John R. Stuart and a few other friends. Nothing that science or affection could sng- gest was wanting to ease the last hours. The Wintry night had fairly set in when the inevitable hour came. Without, sleighs were running to and fro, bearing to Chappaqua, the nearest telegraph station, the latest bulletins, which the thousands of anxious hearts in the great city near by kept demanding. Within, the daughter and a few others stood near the dying man, who remained conscious and seem- ingly rational and free from pain, though now too weak to speak. In the adjoining room sat one or two more friends and the physician, At ten min- utes before seven o’clock the watchers drew back in reverent stillness from the bedside. The great editor was gone—in peace, after so many struggles; in honor, after so much obloquy. Universal Sorrow tor the Death of the Great Journalist—The Presidcent’s Re- spect for the Dead Editor. WASitINGTON, Nov. 29, 1872, The report of the death of Mr. Greeley has fallen like @ faneral pall upon the people of this city. Though Mr. Greeley’s melancholy con- dition had been the universal theme of conversation for several days past, but few were prepared for the news of his death. It seems to come so suddenly that his old friends and Political associates in this city are unable to re- alize his loss, and everywhere sorrow is mingled with surprise at the announcement that he has been taken away from that busy scene in which he had but lately kept in suspense the whole na- tion. In oficial circles there is but one feeling ex- pressed—that of sorrow at the death of the great journalist, In conversation with several friends this evening President Grant paid a feeiing tribute to the great qualities of the departed philosopher and philan- thropist. He sent bis regrets to Secretary and Mrs. Fish, saying that he would not attend the re- ception to-night out of respect for the memory of Mr. Greeley. SKETCH OF Horace Greeley was born at Amherst, N. February 3, 1811. He was the third of the seven children of Zaccheus Greeley. His father and mother were both born a few miles eastward « GREELEY. of Amberst—the latter in Londonderry, of Scotch-Irish lineage (her maiden name was Woodburn), the former in that town or Pelham, of English extraction; but both families had long been settled in that region—the Wood- burns since 1723. All his ancestors, so far as there exists any remembrance, were farmers, the Greeleys being geuerally poor, the Woodburns in comfortable circumstances, Mr. Greeley spent much of his early youth with his maternal grandfather and was first sent to school from hi house, Even in his infancy he showed a great fondness for books and great aptness in acquiring the rudiments of education, so that when he was ten years old, like most pre- cocious children, he was the wonder of the neighborhood. When not quite ten years of age his father lost his little property in New Hampshire and removed to Westhaven, Vt., near the head of Lake Champlain, where he remained nearly six years. The first two years were employed in land-clearing upon contract, with the ald of his two sons; the next two in @ sawailil, while the boys worked on a small, poor farm; the residue in clearing and farming upen shares, These occupations took much of young Greeley’s time, but he was still able to devote himself to the acquisition of knowledge, and he read with avidity everything in the shape of a book which could be found in the neighborhood. When he was only eleven years old he made an attempt to find employment as an apprentice to the printing business, but he failed on account of his extreme youth, and it was not till he was in his fifteenth year that lis ambition in this re- spect was ph apace fk. GREELEY'S APPRENTICESHIP. When Mr. Greeley applied for his appreaticeship Mr. Amos Bliss, the manager and a part proprietor of the paper, was in the garden in the rear of nis house, planting potatoes. He was not with- out a quick appreciation of the youth’s tal- ents, and when one of his apprentices said to him, “You're not going to hire that tow. head, Mr. Bliss, are you?’ he answered:— “1 am; and if you boys are expecting to get any fun out of him you'd better get it quick or you'll be too late. There's something in that tow-head, as you'll find out before you're a week older.” After some negotiation Mr. Bliss accepted him, and then begun his apprenticeship at Poultney. Thus early in the year 1826 he entered as an appren- tice the printing office of the Northern Spectator, at East Poultney, Rutland county, Vt. Here he remained more than four yea! until late in June, 1890, when the paper was discontinued, Meantime his father and family had removed in the fall of 1826 to Wayne, Erie county, Pa, where he visited them in 1827 and 1820, ang whither he repaired op quitting Poult- NEW YORK HERALD, Working by spells on their rude | director and representative of the Crystal Palace wilderness farm, and when opportunity oftered, at | Association, on a claim for $2,500 for the broken As bail could not be readily obtained in a | Tuesday, | ney, in 1820, his trade, in Jamestown and Lodi, N. Y., and in Erie, Pa., he remained in that region for little more than a year, finally quitting it, when work ran out, about the Ist of August, 1831, for New York, where he arrived on the 16th of that month, to begin a | career as remarkable as any in the history of per- sonal struggle and success in this country. MR, GHEELEY’S FIRST YEARS IN NEW YORE; The story of Mr. Greetey’s entrance ‘tuto the busy life of the metropolis has been told too often to need repetition now, His coming to New York was the bold attempt of an awkward, unsophisticated youth to stem a current, which ts difficult for even the strongest ang most experienced. Without money and without friends he threw himself in the whirlpool, and by hard work he overcame all the obstacles which beset him. Asis always the case with young men contending with fortune, the first years of his metropolitan life were full of bitter- ness. During his first year and a half in this city he worked asa journeyman in different offices, but early in 1883, in connection with another young printer, he purchased materials, and undertook the printing of ® cheap daily newspaper for a man who failed soon afterward. Other printing was soon pro- cured, less promising, but better paid. His first partner was suddenly taken away by drowning, in July, Another took his place. The concern was moderately prosperous, and in the following Spring he issued, without subscribers, and almost with- out friends, in a city where he was haraly known beyond the circle of his boarding house and his small business, the frst number of the New Yorker, &@ weekly journal, devoted .to popular literature and an impartial summary of transpiring events. That paper was continued a few years, having a circulation which rose at one time to over nine thousand, MR. GREELEY’S MARRIAGE. Mr. Greeley was married while he was editor of the New Yorker to Miss Mary Young Cheney, 0 pretty New England lady, whom he met at the Graham House. Miss Cheney was by profession a teacner, and she had taken an engagement in North Carolina, where Mr. Greeley married her. Of her early domestic economy Mr. Greeley said‘— My wife, whose acquaintance I made at the Gra- ham House, and who was long a more faithful, con- sistent disciple of Graham than I was, in our years of extreme poverty kept her house in strict ac- cordance with her convictions, never even deign- ing an explanation to her friends and relatives who from time to time Visited and temporarily so- journed with us; and, as politeness usually re- reased complaint or inquiry on their part, their rst experiences of @ regimen which dispensed with all they deemed most appetizing could hardly be observed without a smile. Usually a day, or at most two, of beans and potatoes, boiled rice, pud- dings, bread and butter, with no condiment but salt, and never a pickle, was all they could abide; 80, bidding her a Kind adieu, each in turn departed to seek elsewhere a more congenial hospitality, They lived together till within a few weeks, when Mrs, Greeley’s death occurred, 80 soon to be followed by the decease of her distinguished hus- band, They had three children, two girls anda boy, the latter of whom was particularly bright and gave extraordinary promise, but died In his early childhood, leaving a vacuity in his doting parent's heart that has never been filled. He had formed the brightest hopes of his boy, and under the bereavement his plulosophy for a time gave way completely. His two daughters, Gabrielle and Ida, survive their parents. MR. GREELEY BEGINS POLITICS. In 1838 Mr. Greeley may be said to have begun his Poiltical career. Mr. Seward was then the whig candidate for Governor of New York, and Mr. Weed, who, of the three, alone survives, was his faithful servitor and friend. At Weed’s suggestion Greeley was induced to go to Albany in that year to edita campaign paper, and then began the famous part- nership of Seward, Weed and Greeley, which was not dissolved till Seward’s second election to the United States Senate. Greeley’s letter dissolving the partnership is one of the most remarkable doc- uments in our political history, its most surprising feature being the revelation of a desire for office, which none of Mr. Greeley’s friends had suspected, but which afterward took shape in various unsuc- eessful candidacies, the last beiug the ineffectual attempt to attain the Presidency of the United States. The Alnauy campaign paper was not a success, Mr. Greeley himself said of it:—‘It was tion; but I loved it and did it well.” This was fol- lowed by the Log Cabin in 1840, a campaign paper in the interest of General Harrison, whose cause Mr. Greeley warmly espoused. The paper was very successful, and to it Mr. Greeley owed his reputation and subsequent prosperity, and the political experience thus acquired was exceedingly useful to him in STARTING THE NEW YORK TRIBUNE. The Tribune, with which Mr. Greeley’s life was identified, was begun on the 10th of April, 1841, In the following Autumn the Weekly Tribune was commenced, and with these journals his name has since been identified. His energy, talent and ex- perience, and $1,000 borrowed from his friend James Coggeshall, were the only capital upon which the paper started. It succeeded, while hun- dreds of other ventures equally promising failed; but it did not succeed without diMculty, The publication oMice was at No. 30 Ann street. The list of subscibers numbered 600 names. Five thousand copies of the first number were printed, and Mr. Greeley afterward acknowledged that he found diMculty in giving them away. The ex- penses of the first week were $525, the receipts $92. After four months Mr. Thomas McElrath became a partner in the paper, and at the end of the first year its success was established. In that year it had already taken ground in favor of Fourterism, orthe principle of association—a principle which was afterward applied in a wonderful form to the Tribune establishment. This was the Tribune's first “sensation,” and its second the famous libel suit with J. Fenimore Cooper, the novelist. The third feature was Margaret Faller’s accession to the paper and the engrafting of woman's rights among the progressive ideas advocated by Mr. Greeley’s journal. These things are the history of the 7ribune as it has been told over and over again; fp but deeper than these is the real history of Mr. Greeley’s life and labor, though it is unnecessary to recount his early struggles in journalism, for they are the history of every successful journal now published in New York, pre-eminently of the HERALD. MR. GREELEY IN CONGRESS, Mr. Greeley was elected to Congress in 1848 to filla vacancy and served in that body from De- cemper 1 of that year to March 4, 1849, distinguish- ing himself chiefly by his endeavors to reform the abuses of the mileage system. But he failed to make a marked figure in the House of Repre- sentatives and never afterwards was a member of any deliberative body, except the late Constitu- tional Convention in this State, where his failure ‘was almost equally signal. The editorial chair and the lecture room were his proper spheres, and in these he had the most influence and exerted the greatest power. MR. GREELEY AS AN AUTHOR. In 1860 @ volume of his lectures and essays was published under the title of ‘Hints Toward Re- forms.” In 1851 he made @ voyage to Europe, and during his stay in England sefved as one of the jurymen at the Crystal Palace Exhibition. After his retarn he published a volume entitled “Glances at Europe.’’ In 1856 he published a ‘History of the Struggie for Slavery Exvension or Restriction in the United States from 1787 to 1865." His later works were ‘The American Conflict,” a history of the civil war; ‘Recollections of @ Busy Life,” an autobiography, published in 2868; a work on peliti- cal economy, written to enforce bis notions about Protection, and “What I Know About Farming,” @ title that has been oftener parodied than the title of any book in the history of literature. It will be recalled as of interest, now the great journalist is no more, that in the autobiography alluded to Mr. Greeley showed how the love of his profession and tho pride in its advancement were expressed in the desire that on his tombstone the words, “Founder of the 7ytoune,” should alone appear beneath his name. MR. GREELEY IN A FRENCH PRISON. One of the episodes of Mr. Greeley’s life was his incarceration in the Clichy prisen in Paris in 1856, on the occasion of his second visit to Europe. M. Leschesne, @ sculptor, had sent a statue to the New York Palace Exhibition, 1862, which had been broken and destroyed. Hearing that Mr. Greeley was im Paria pe epulptor caused big prrest, aa 8 work that made no figure and created no sensa- * SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1872.—TRIPLE SHEET. statue, strange city upon short notice Mr. Greeley had no alternative but to go to jail, and to jail he went, He was soon visited by Mr. Mason, the American Ambassador, and other friends, and 4 lawyer was secured for him, ft Was shown that the effects of the association were in the hands of a receiver and that Mr. Greeley was not personally Mable under the laws of this State, proofs of which secured his release, and he left the prison with the quaint com- ment that his last opportunity for learning French had passed away. MR. GREELEY IN CALIFORNIA. In 1859 Mr, Greeley made his famous visit to California, travelling thither by way of Kansas, Pike’s Peak and Utah, He was everywhere well received, and in the larger places in California was welcomed by the municipal authorities and citi- zens, whom he publicly addressed on politics, the Pacitic Railroad, &c. Among the stories told of that visit is one that will be recalled with peculiar pleasure :—The citizens of Placerville had prepared to fete the great journalist, and anextracoach, with extra relays of horses, was chartered of the Cali- fornia Stage Company to carry him from Folsom to Placerville—distance forty miles. The extra was im some way delayed and did not leave Folsom until late in the afternoon. Mr. Greeley was to be feted at seven o'clock that evening by the citizens of Placerville, and it We altogether necessary that he should be there by what hour. So the stage company said to Henry Monk, the driver of the extra, ‘‘Henry, this man must be there by seven o'clock to-night.” And Henry answered, “The great man shall be there.” Such a ride journalist never got before. Mr. Gree- ley was terribly jolted, being tossed about the stage without mercy, and to all his expostulations to lessen his speed Monk would only answer, “I’ve got my orders! I work for the Californy Stage Company, I do. That’s what I work for, They said, ‘Git this man through by seving.’ An’ this man’s going through. You bet! Ger-long! Whoo- ep!” And he did get through by “seving.” Mr. Monk was on time. Tiere isa tradition that Mr. Greeley was indignant for a while; then he laughed and finally presented Mr. Monk with a brand new sult of clothes. MR. GREELEY’S LATE CAREER, Mr. Greeley’s career since the beginning of the civil war is too well known to need anything more than a few words of reference. He heartily supported Mr, Lincoln when a candidate for Presl- dent in 1860 and again in 1864, He favored the war but in a way so erratic that it has become historic, After the struggle was over he bailed the rebel chief and went heartily in favor of amnesty. This made him exceedingly popular with the South and the result was his nomination for the Presidency at Cincinnati and Baltimore, The story of that canvass need not be recounted, but with it is bound up the last links of Mr. Greeley’s history, and his life went out with the expiration of his political hopes. It wasa life to which may ve well applied the word of his own adoption, “busy.’? Labor was with him the only pathway to happiness and content, He began to work in his infancy, and never ceased to think and write while life and strength lasted. Few men have been more outspoken and few have done so many things which at the time were less in harmony with public opinion. His warfare upon slavery was begun at a time when the overwhelming sen- timent was against any interference with the Peculiar Ingtitution of tye South, His efforts at feconciliation and peace during the rebellion were made when the country was trrevocably deter. mined upon the successful prosecution of the war. His journey to Richmond to place bis name upon the batlbond of Jefferson Davis raised a storm of condemnation which few men could have allayed, But Mr. Greeley not only outlived all these things, but he even succeeded in becoming the candidate for the Presidency upon his own ground of the party whose life-long enemy he had been. The work of the campaign and the serrow incident to the death of his wife, which occurred only a few days before the election, undermined his strength, and the reaction proved too much for his constitu- tion, MR. GREELEY’S PERSONAL HABITS. Much has been said of Mr. 'Greeley’s eccentrict- ties, especially by the so-called correspondents of the country press. One of these, facetiously cor- recting the other, said of him:— Perliaps Iought to say here that the common impression about Greeley’s mode of life is not cor- rect. While in the city, away from his home up the Hudson, he does not, as is generally supposed, board at the pie and peanut stands on the Park, nor does he sleep on @ hard sofa in one of the back rooms of the 7ribune oflice. He eats at the Maison Doré, and has a mice room in Twenty-fourth street handsomely furnished with election returns and tariff statistics, The rumor that when he comes to town on Monday morning he brings five days’ rations of boiled turnips from his farm to last him till Friday night, when he returns to his rural home, is also without foundation. He has recently made $100,000 out of his “Conflict,” and feels quite rich, of course. In fact, It is said he was seen the other day hanging, asit were, on the verge of a tailor’s shop, in the Bowery, and people need not be surprised to hear of his having a new coat be- fore muny days. And another writer says :— Several hundred volumes have been written upon Mr. Greeley’s peculiar and slovenly dress, witch, like everything else connected with him, has been grossly caricatured. He is neither a Brummel nor a D’Orsay sartorially. He wears old-fashioned clothes and puts them on carelessly, His panta- loons sometimes slip up to his boot tops and his cravat to one side, but he 18 too busy to notice such trifes, He is always scrupuleusly neat. His linen, though often limp and crumpled, is immaculately clean, and his garments are rarcly ragged or threadbare. OBITUARY, Selah B. Strong. Selah B. Strong, an eminent jurist and Judge of the Supreme Court of New York, died at his residence, St. George Manor, Setauket, L, L, yesterday, in the eighty-first year of hisage. He was born in Brookhaven, L, I., on the Ist of May, in the year 1792, and, having received a good pre- luminary education, graduated with honor at Yale College in the year 1811. He chose the profes- sion of law as his pursuit in life, and was ad- mitted, after constant application in its study, to the Bar in 1814, Asa Jane he was highly esteemed by his associates and the public, le Was chosen and acted as Attorney for Suffolk county. He served as representative in Congress from the year 1843 to 1845, In the year 1847 he was appointed a Judge of the Supreme Court, conveying with him to the Bench the same elevated ideas of integrity, honor and impartiality by which he was ever dis: tingpished and endeared to his fellow citizens and more immediate personal friends, OBSEQUIES OF ROBERT J, DILLON. St. Patrick's Cathedral was crowded to repletion yesterday during the funeral service performed over the remains of Robert J. Dillon. Rev. Father Ducey officiated, assisted by Rev. Fathers McMame and Kane, the Deacon and Sub-Deacon, and Rey. Father Kearney, Master of Ceremonies. The pall- bearers were Messrs. Israel Corse, Birnese , Sher- man, Brower, Jones, Abraham R. Lawrence, Charles O'Conor, Hatton, Royal Phel Rea- mond, Dr. Anderson, Ledwith, Harris, Dr. Keep and Dr. Van Buren. ‘he body, enclozea in a casket covered with a heavy black pall, was received at the entrance of the cathed: Kearney, and was borne in in p iP the central aisle to the catafgique prepared to receive it. A requiem mass was then celebrated. Archbishop McCloskey and Bishops Lynch, McNierny and Quinlan were in the chancel, and when the mass Was concluded the absolution was chanted by the venerable Archbishop, who also, in a brief address, paid a eulogistic tribute to the high moral character and Lehn ag A Fag dece 5 Among those presen he ly of the cathe- deral were the children of the Roman Catholic Orphan Asylum and the Sisters of Cnarity, to- Ps? with Chief Justice Daly, Augustus Scheil, olin McKeon, H. 0. Hoguet, and many others. At the close of the services the remains were juried in the family plot in the cemetery adjoiu- ing the cathedral. ILLNESS OF THE PORT MACDONALD. Rev, George Macdonald, the pect, continues se- riously ill at the residence of Dr. Abraham Coles, Scotch Plaius, near Elizabeth, N.J. The Doctor, in answer to an inqui ‘a the prostrate Reet “is laboring ‘under & eaters’ cold Pfecting is lungs, accompanied with a good deal of prostration, which, in my judgment, would make it in the high- 3 PERILS OP THE RAIL. ——+ | Shocking Accident on the Delaware | and Lackawanna Railroad. . A Whole Train Going Over a Fifteon Foot Em- bankment—One Man Killed and Every Passenger More or Less Injured. SYRACUSE, N. Y., Nov. 20, 1872, A disaster occurred yesterday on the Syracuse and Binghamton division of the Delaware and Lackawanna Railroad by which one man was killed and several others dangerously wounded. It seems that a passenger train left here at half- past twelve P. M., with @ baggage car and two passenger coaches, When near Jamesville, seven miles south of Syracuse, the train going at an unusually high rate of speed, the engine mounted the track and, after running about five rods on the ties, plunged down an embankment fifteen feet high, dragging the train with it. The engine was completely stripped of everything that could be detached and lay half embedded in mud beneath the first passenger coach, which was thrown upon its side, The other coach was turned bottom up- ward and badly smashed, The baggage car lay on the side about thirty feet from the track. The second coach caught fire from the overturned stove, The uninjured passengers succeeded in ex- tinguishing the flames, or @ terrible holocaust must have followed. The only man killed outright was Peter Mchan, the engineer, a resident of this city. He stood bravely by his post, and was burned and scalded to death beneath the ruins. H, Tibbets, the fireman, was badly scalded, and it is feared he will not re- cover, Nearly every passenger was more or less injured, and, looking at the wre it seems impossible that any should have escaped death. Seats, stoves au doors were jammed ther; the sides and tops o! cars were broken in, afd through the first baggage car a twenty-four-foot rail protruded. Mr. and Mrs, Austin K. Hoyt, of this city, were among the injured, the latter very seriously on the forehead and chest. Seth D. Baker, of this city, received severe bruises about the head and back. A woman end child, name unknewn, were seriously injured, e dead and wounded were brought to this city. the accident is said to be traceable to the worn- out iron of the trac! Indignant Citizens Calitng the Company to Account. Syracusz, N. Y., Nov. 29, 1872, In accordance with a published call a large public meeting was held this evening to express views on the management of the Syracuse and Binghamton Railroad. Ex-Mayor Stewart called the meeting to order, and Professor Andrew D. White, Presi- dent of the Cornell University, presided. The chairman reviewed the management of the road, which he declared was infamous and worse than any other road he had ever travelled upon. esterday’s disaster, resulting in death, simply murder, Ex-Senator Kennedy and others denounced the Management in equally strong terms. The meet- ing adopted resolutions calling upon the Delaware and Lackawanna Railroad Company to retorm the evils complained of, and demanding the removal ot Mr. P, Elmendorf Sloan, the present superin- tendent of the roaa, A committee was appointed to circulate memorials for signature, asking the Governor to interfere if the compuny relused to re- form the management, wag Accident on the Vermont Central. Concord, N. H., Nov. 29, 1872, The down passenger train over the Vermont Central Railroad, which arrives here at half-past three P. M., ran into the rear end ofa freight train at South Royalton this noon. No definite particu- lars can now be learned except that several freight cars were badly smashed, as was also the forward part of the locomotive and baggage car of the freight train. A Crash Near Gilmore’s Babel. Boston, Nov. 29, 1872. The accommodation train from Providence this evening, when near the Coliseum, ran into,the rear of a freight train. None of the passengers were hurt. The engine was ruined, several freight cars wrecked and four horses killed. SCOTLAND'S SAINT. pin aS ite The Festival of St. Andrew—Heunton of Scots Throughout the World. St. Andrew's Day recurs once more, and the hearty men of the heath and highland welcome it, To-night, wherever a number of Scotia's sons may be, they will joyfully assembie to enliven their memory of ‘auld Albin; and if there be a@ solitary Scot unable to gather with his fellow countrymen it may easily be im- agined that he will not allow the lapse of the night without having inspired himself with a deep potation of the “barley brew," first eonse- crated with a heartfelt invocation of St. Andrew. For @ Scotchman to fail to honor St. Andrew and admire genial ‘Bobbie Burns” would be a crime; and to express that failure on such a night as this would be to court the unpleasant bestowal of the collar of ‘thistle and rue,” which is the adornment of a loyal “Knight of St. Andrew.” But every Scot sacrifices the shrewdness and caution which are customarily associated with his character, and gives his un- juestioning belief to the legendary assurance that it. Andrew is hisown and his country’s patron. He scorns the idea that his traditions are unstable of foundation. The glamour of patriotism is upon his mental eyes and he spurns whoever would perform upon them an operation for ophthalmia. The legend upon which the Scots base their claims to St. Andrew for their patron 1 however, a poetical Ee to the authentic account oI the disciple, and might easily be credited even by those who have not earnest patriotism to move them to belief, However, the Saint was of such repute throughout the world t relics of him were eagerly sought for on all si and, a8 is usual in such & case, many were procured by’ searchers, So now there are 80 bie traditionary records of the disposition of his divided ory, that the claim of the North Britons to have had it in its entiret, brought to their country is disputed by many be ographers of sanctified persons. However, it is conceded that the arm of the godly man was conveyed to Scotland vy a fous ~=monk named Regulus, or Rule, and leposited in a church which ne built, where now ts the cathe- dral in the city of St. Andrews. From this fact may have come the belt | idea that the arm of the Saint was the shield of the people by whom it was preserved. The adoption of the Saint as the special protector or patron of Scotia followed naturally. Thus havin given the tradi- tionary account of the Saint, it is proper that some recital of the life of this holy ‘fisher f men’ should be given, The Saimt was the rother of Simon Peter, and with him pursued the calling of a fisherman on the Lake of Genesareth, When St. John the Baptist began to preach pen- ance in the desert Andrew went to hear him. He finally became a disciple of St. John and went hh him en bis journeyings. On the day when St, John, seeing Jesus pass, cried out to his disciples, “Behold the Lamb of God,’ Andrew and another of the group followed Him. Jesus soon spoke to hem, and immediately Andrew learned that He was the Messiah, and accepted His invitation togo with Him on His mission of mercy and salvation. Hence Andr-:w is styled the Protoclet, or firs: called, Andrew soon brought Simon, his brother, to Jesus, who admitted bim as a <isciple and gave him the name of Peter. The brothers were not immediately called to constant attendance upon their Master, but for some time alternated their callings of fishers in the pure waters of the lakes and of Oshers in the turbid waters of sin for the souls of men, But when they were bidden to it they left their nets and followed their Teacher to His death on the cross. St. Andrew's mame is Rot noted im the Scriptures after the Ascension, ‘et '? is believed have disseminated the hristian doctrines in Asiatic and European pice! , Macedonia, Epirus a & hale, It was at Pare in Achale that he is recorded to have foun: at glorious reward on earth of martyrdom for his brave endeavors to spread the creed of love and clemency. The man- ner of his martyrdom was of the most painful char- acter. Yet when he saw that it was across upon he was to be it to death sparks cl ne from his thouth wy ine body of my a an ‘is fimbs ag with ric! J Icome to thee exulting and giad; receive me with joy iate thy arms.” jus did he welcome death and give thanks that it was to be like Christ’s, upon the cross. But he was not nailed to the dread instrument, only tied with thongs and lett to h of the tortures of hunger and thirst. degree imprudent for him to attempt public speaking at present, 4 POOLISH ACTOR'S FATE. A Mr. Florence, who ts sald to be a New York actor, but not the comedian of that name, fool- ishly jumped from a train going out ot Newark on i night. He nad "foten on the wrong train. His head was crussed, so that his recovery is dowbtiu, body was honorably interred by a lady ed mila. In the fourth century it was re- joved to Byzantia or Constantinople, and placed in the Charch of the Aposties. mm here the disposition of the remains cannot be told with the assurance of truth, so clouded have the hal- lowed endeavors of the Saint's admirers made the ter. mine oniy public commemoration of the day in this "DION VS. DEERY.— Cyrille Dion Wins the Billiard Mateh and Retains the Champion Cue, —e—-—~— THE OHALLENGE OF MAURICE DALY. The match at the regular fonr-ball game for the championship of America and the diamond cue, between Cyrille Dion and John Deery, was played last evening at Irving Hall. A large gathering of billiard admirers met last evening at Chris. O’Con- nor’s shortly after seven o'clock and discussed the prospects of the game. There did not appear to be any very great inclination towards speculat but what little there was dono was at about one hundred to sixty on Dion. The Paris mutual pools Were not very largely patronized, as only forty- five tickets were sold—twenty-eight for Dion and seventeen for Deery. AS usual there was considsrable delay before the. contestants for the CHAMPIONSHIP made their appearance at Irving Hall, as they con. siderately gave the spectators plenty of time to get seated, The match was played upon a new, bevelled, four-pocket table, of the regular dimen’ [sions, 53x11. Ateight P. M., the time appointed for the commencement of the match, there were about five hundred gentlemen present, and tney soon began to get a@ little impatient. The game Was 1,500 points up, each carom counting three, The contestants made their appearance about’ twenty minutes past eight, and then @ gentleman came forward and announced thit Mr, James Ben- nett would oMciate as umpire for Mr. Dion, Mr. Maurice Daly for Mr. Deery and a gentleman ama- teur would act as referee. The following chal- lenge to the winner was also read:— ’ Naw Yoru, Nov. 97, 1872, C. O'Connor, Fi Dear Sin—! by challenge the winner of the cham~ pionship billiard match between Messrs. Cyrille Dion and John Deery, to be played on the 2yth inst., to play a match with ie, said match to be tor the championship of America and the diamond cue and for a stake of $000 a side, Enclosed please find $250 (two hundred and fitty being “the ‘forleit required by the rules Yours, éc., MAURICE DALY. Play commenced at half-past eight. Deery won the bank for the lead, and played up into the left hand corner, Dion then lead off, scoring a carom, and was followed py Deery with 42, cleverly put together, Dion then ran a coup, a manceuvre which was followed by Deery. Cyrille then finding he had better get to work, made a@ pretty carom, and alter repeating let Docry come in with a run of 60, Dion then made a couple of caroms—one twice round the table—missed an casy one, and Deery followed with 21. Dion added 6 to his score, and Deery then made 24 with the help of a scratch. Cyrille then, on his sixth inning, ran up 27, and Deery followed with a bad miss; 18 were then made by Cyrille, when he ran into a pocket, and Deery went in and missed. Cyrille followed with 30, in- cluding @ brilliant stroke round the table, and Deery, after making two caroms, left a double baulk. Cyrille missed and Deery made 9 and left them in baulk again, The game at the end of the, tenth inning stoyd DEERY 177 AND DION 99, The next four or five innings did not bring to’ light any very extraordinary billiards, but was rather tame, i{ anything, On the sixteenth innin Deery appeared to wake up a little and made This started Cyrile, who immediately took off his coat and went to work with a will, After makii twelve caroms he lost the white ball, and coi cluded with a double baulk and 45 all told. Deery then made 66 and a double baulk, and Tille played up the table and scored a carom. the end of the twentieth inning the gcore stood DEERY 387 AND DION 198, On the twenty-third inning Dion made 72, cluding @ very pretty draw shot, executed i dificult position, Deery followed with 57. At end of the twenty-fifth inning Deery made a a ble baulk and Cyrille then opened the twonsy-at inning with a very brilliant bank shot of th cushions, and made 33 in the break, Deery ti put together alter which Dion made @ miss, 4 the ep4 of the thirtieth ianing the score stood :- DEERY 578 AND, DION 363. After a little quiet play Dion got them togethe the thirty-fourth inning and was scoring pretty fi when Deery put tn a claim of foul, which, howey the referee would not allow. Cyrille went on s¢ ing and rolled up 87, when he missed rather easy one, In the following ining Deery w 81, and then Cyrille made @ regular duffer sh missing a simple carom, much to the disgust of interested young man in the background, who g: vent to a how! of disgust. For the next two three innings it was hard to say which man ¥ playing the worst. With appro rlate exactn eery ran 390n the thirty-ninth inning, and th let Cyrille commence the fortieth with 21, when 1 latter unfortunately ran into a pocket. At the cl of the jortieth inning the score stood DEERY 759 AND DION 518, Nothing very brilliant was achieved by cit party until the forty-fiith inning, when Dion at }.«¢ got to work, and to the delight of his back rs rolled up 165, which considerably improved the « pect of affairs. At the end of the iftieth innit ‘he score stood, DEERY 865 AND DION 769. After Dion’s shot on the fifty-third inning the took a recess of about five minutes. As play v resumed a difference of opinion occurred betw: Mr. Dion and the gentlemau amateur who ofiiclaved as referee. It was, however, soon decided, as Mr. Dion accepted the verdict of the referee and the ame was resumed, Ip the fifty-fifth and fifty-sixth innings Deery ran 33 and 36, At the close of the sixtieth inning the game stood DEERY 942 AND DION 812, On the sixty-fifth inning Dion ran 45 and then had the bad luck, after scoring, to be kissed into a ocket. On the seventicth inning Dion was in hand and made @ brilliaut bank shot, but by bad~ luck went into @ pocket. The seventieth luning closed as follows :— DEERY 1,009 AND DION 908, The game now became very tedious, as both men were playing wretchedly. At last Cyrille made one of hig brilliant bank shots, which he rolled up toabreak of 51. The eightieth inning concluded with the score as follows :— DEERY 1,128 AND DION 1,013. In the eighty-second toning Cyrille ran 51 very cleverly, but with his usual good luck ram into @ pocket after @ brilliant carom. On the sity fourth inning he ran 24, and jollowed with 15 and 33, and on the eight -seveuth arti he ran 221, which was nearly double his last big run ot 165. The game was now virtually over, as on the nin- tieth inning Cyrille made a run of 33 and won the match, The fo) rid ee the score of the gam: Dion—3, 8, 6, 6, 6, 27, 18, 30, 0, 0, 3, 6, 15, 0, 45, 3, 12, 0, 3, 1, 72, 18, 0, 33, 0, "12, 10, 3, 0, 6, 18, 8 21, 0, 0, 3, 3, 165, 9, 1, 4, 6, 1, 0, 0, 24, 0, 3, 3, 22, 3, 1, 1, 45, 10, 0, 15, 0, 0, 8, 8, 0, 39, 3, 0, 0, 3, 51, 3, 0, bl, 9, 0, 21, 15, 38, 321, 3, 33—1,502;' average, 16%. Deety—42, '3, 60, Bl i 0, 2h & 8% 6 0 26 6 57, 21, 6, 63, 9, O, 0, 8, $0, 36, '13, ‘27, 18, 0, 0, 3, 0, 1,1, 0, 3, 21, 1 8, 9 3 3, 6, 21, 21, 0, 10, 9 0, 13, 3, 36, 24, 6, 15, 0, 6, 15, 11,201; average, 13 3-5, DISASTERS ON THE LAKES. Sana pe Grounding of the Schooner Sunrise and Loss of Three Men—Sinking of the Pro- peller Burlington—A Day of General Misfortunes to the Shipping. CLEVELAND, Ohio, Nov. 29, 1872. The schooner Sunrise left this port yesterday for Kelly's Island. She was discovered aground this morning near the water works crib, two miles from shore. Three men were lost, Ps Casualties and Suffering on Lake Erie. Detroit, Mich., Nov. 29, 1872, The storm has caught many vessels o@#ide. The head of Lake Erie is full of ice, and the wind blows ‘ale from the northwest, with snow, e propeller Burlington sunk below Bar Point. The schooner Sam Flint and the propeller Phila- deiphia are ashore below Bar Point. e tug Torrent, with the schooner J. W. Sargent and five barges, all coal laden, from Cleveland, struck the ice at the islands. ‘0 of the barges sunk; the others and a schooner were abandoned. The schooner Eveline is anchored of Scarecrow Island, Thunder Bay, with a signal cf distress fy- ing. It cannot be approached on account of theice. Rie schooner Manie Corbett is beached two miles north of Lincoln. The captain and crew reached the shore safely, but with hands and feet frozen. A Heavily Laden Schooner Ashore. Osweao, N. Y., Nov. 29, 1872 ‘The schooner William Elgin, from Hamilton for Oswego, laden with wheat, is ashore thirty miles below this port. A JERSEY HOTEL BURNED, Early yesterday morning @ fire broke out in Potlock’s Hotel, near Bull's ferry, and there being much combustible material in the building the’ entire structure was shortly consumed, A strong wind biew the faggots towards the adjacemt docks on bs see 9 Eaten a were bo Sy de- stroyed. Several were in one some time, but were finally towed into the river without 1 far as known, will be by the St. Audrew’s Soutety, which wil Wave its 116th festival thia evening at Delmonico’s. injury. ‘of the fire is yet unknown. Craton eect ee res | e ice} but, . their afforta nroved fruit. lesa