'What do you think of her?' I enquired.
'Wonderful woman!' he said. 'I never heard such a voice. It gives me visions. Every other is as the crackling of thorns under a pot.'
I came back to the office and went into Mr Greeley's room to bid him goodbye. He stood by the gas jet, in a fine new suit of clothes, reading a paper, while a boy was blacking one of his boots. I sat down, awaiting a more favourable moment. A very young man had come into the room and stood timidly holding his hat.
'I wish to see Mr Greeley,' he said.
'There he is,' I answered, 'go and speak to him.'
'Mr Greeley,' said he, 'I have called to see if you can take me on the Tribune.'
The Printer continued reading as if he were the only man in the room.
The young man looked at him and then at me—with an expression that moved me to a fellow feeling. He was a country boy, more green and timid even than I had been.
'He did not hear you—try again,' I said.
'Mr Greeley,' said he, louder than before, 'I have called to see if you can take me on the Tribune.'