from his intoxication, saved Bennett on that critical occasion, as, if Ward had withheld the papers, and the _Herald_ had not appeared as usual, it might have ceased to exist, and the World have never heard of James Gordon Bennett. And thus one event (even the whim of a drunkard) often shadows or illuminates our pathway to ceaseless adversity or prosperity, or to eternal obscurity or immortality. The Hon. Horace Greeley was so poor when he published the _New Yorker_, that he could not pay his Wheat Bread Board, and even failed to pay his Unbolted Wheat, or Graham Bread Board. I boarded with Mr. and Mrs. Greeley for seven years at the old Graham House in Barclay street, and (sometime after Greeley established the _Tribune_) Mrs. Greeley often borrowed money of me, from one shilling to five dollars. She always paid me, but often kept it for weeks, which subjected me to great embarrassment, as I was at the portal of starvation. But Mrs. Greeley was a poetess, and very interesting in conversation, and a sweet and gentle lady, and extremely beautiful, and her pretty smile emitted the solace of an angel’s wand, to a cadaverous and gloomy Grahamite like me, which was of infinite value to my digestive organs, and I never could resist her arch persuasion to loan her money, although it was often my very last shilling. I know a printer in this city who caught Greeley in one of Simpson’s Pawn Boxes. Greeley had just pawned a coat and silver watch, (which the printer saw dart up the spout like a Fourth of July rocket,) and he, Greeley, being near-sighted, was leaning over the counter, counting the pawn money, when the printer, being in the next Pawn Box, (and who had worked as a journeyman printer by the side of Greeley in a printing office in Chatham street some years before,) seized Greeley’s ear, and slapped him on the back, when Greeley looked up, and blushed profusely, and trembled from hat to boot, and picked up his money from the counter, and walked out of the pawnbroker’s shop, with gigantic strides, amid the screams of Simpson and his clerks, and the printer, and all the miserable wretches present, including the darkies. Three years afterwards, Simpson got the boss of the printer to print some auction placards, and told him that Greeley never redeemed his coat and watch, which were sold at a Pawnbroker’s public sale.