Horace Greeley, the editor of the Tribune, whose friendship was of the most steady and substantial kind, and for whom Mr. Taylor felt the respect due to a parent, expired in 1872. It was when writing of Mr. Greeley’s death that Mr. Taylor gave the following sketch of their friendship:— “My own intercourse with him, though often interrupted by absence or divergence of labor, was frank at the start, and grew closer and more precious with every year. In all my experience of men, I have never found one whose primitive impulses revealed themselves with such marvellous purity and sincerity. His nature often seemed to me as crystal-clear as that of a child. In my younger and more sensitive days, he often gave me a transient wound; but such wounds healed without a scar, and I always found, afterward, that they came from the lance of a physician, not from the knife of an enemy. “I first saw Mr. Greeley in June, 1844, when I was a boy of nineteen. I applied to him for an engagement to write letters to the ‘Tribune’ from Germany. His reply was terse enough. ‘No descriptive letters!’ he said; ‘I am sick of them. When you have been there long enough to know something, send to me, and, if there is anything in your letters, I will publish them.’ I waited nearly a year, and then sent seventeen letters, which were published. They were shallow enough, I suspect; but what might they not have been without his warning? “Toward the end of 1847, while I was engaged in the unfortunate enterprise of trying to establish a weekly paper at Phœnixville, Penn., I wrote him—foreseeing the failure of my hopes—asking his assistance in procuring literary work in New York. He advised me (as I suspect he has advised thousands of young men), to stay in the country. But I _had_ stayed in the country, and a year too long; so another month found me in New York, in his office, with my story of disappointment, and my repeated request for his favorable influence. ‘I think you are mistaken,’ he said; ‘but I will bear you in mind, if I hear of any chance.’ “Six weeks afterward, to my great surprise (for I supposed he had quite forgotten me), he sent for me and offered me a place on the ‘Tribune.’ I worked hard and incessantly during the summer of 1848, hearing never a word of commendation or encouragement; but one day in October he suddenly came to my desk, laid his hand on my shoulder, and said, ‘You have been faithful; but now you need rest. Take a week’s holiday, and go into New England.’ I obeyed, and found, on my return, that he had ordered my salary to be increased.”