"'No,' said Fisher, running his fingers nonchalantly through his curls, 'I am not Mr. Greeley, but,' drawing himself up, 'I am the editor of The New Yorker. Mr. Greeley is only the printer.'
"This incident having got out among brother's friends, it was considered so good a joke that for years he was called in the office and by the literary fraternity, 'The Printer.'
"The entertainment at these Friday evenings was mainly conversation, varied by the occasional reading of a poem. Your Aunt Mary was much admired that winter, both for her exquisite beauty and the charm of her winning, artless manners. As I said, she was very fond of dancing; but brother never had time to accomplish himself in the art. I remember, however, that at a Christmas party given by his partner, Mr. Wilson, he was induced to dance a quadrille. His mathematical accuracy enabled him to go through the figures perfectly, when he had once seen them danced; and he enjoyed it so thoroughly, and wore such an air of unconscious happiness, that an old Quaker lady (the mother-in-law of Mr. Wilson) who was looking on remarked to me, 'I didn't think thee could find so beautiful a sight as thy brother's dancing this side of heaven.'
"I have described your Aunt Mary as beautiful, and perhaps you would infer that she was also over-fond of dress. She was no devotee to fashion, and her toilet was, even at that period, characterized by great simplicity, but was noted, at the same time, for picturesqueness."
Ida showed me, the other day, a very interesting letter written to her father by a friend, Mr. Yancey, who was present at his marriage, and as it confirms what mamma has said of Aunt Mary's beauty, I will make some extracts from it. Mr. Yancey was the son-in-law of Squire Bragg, at whose house Aunt Mary resided while teaching school in North Carolina.
"GERMANTOWN, TENNESSEE, July 6, 1847.
"MR. GREELEY:
"DEAR SIR:—Sitting to-night 'all solitary and alone,' my mind has wandered back upon scenes that have past eleven years ago, though vivid now even as yesterday. It was about that time that I saw you first, and indeed saw you last.
"Little did I then dream that I beheld in that modest personage one who is now acknowledged as the 'distinguished and accomplished Horace Greeley.'
"You well remember your first visit to the South, I dare say. You cannot have forgotten many incidents that occurred at a little village of North Carolina, called Warrenton? No, there is one circumstance I feel assured you never can forget while memory lasts, and there are others to which I claim the right to call your attention: for instance, do you remember your first meeting with a certain Miss Cheney at the house of Squire Bragg, the father of Capt. Bragg, who lately distinguished himself at Monterey and Buena Vista? Do you now remember to whom you related the secret of your visit, who procured the parson, and what persons accompanied you to church, and then with your beautiful bride returned to breakfast? We saw you take the solemn vows, we witnessed the plighted betrothal, and when you bore away from us this prize, you also carried our best wishes that you might be ever blessed, and she be made always happy. May it not have been otherwise."