ceived it through the
hands of Thurlow Weed and published it on the 14th. It bore date "New
York, Saturday evening, November 11, 1854," and was addressed simply
to "Governor Seward." Its great length consigned it to nonpareil in
strange contrast to the long primer type of the editorial page, but
its publication became the sensation of the hour. To this day its fine
thought-shading is regarded the best illustration of Greeley's
matchless prose.

"The election is over," he says, "and its results sufficiently
ascertained. It seems to me a fitting time to announce to you the
dissolution of the political firm of Seward, Weed & Greeley, by the
withdrawal of the junior partner--said withdrawal to take effect on
the morning after the first Tuesday in February next. And, as it may
seem a great presumption in me to assume that any such firm exists,
especially since the public was advised, rather more than a year ago,
by an editorial rescript in the _Evening Journal_, formally reading me
out of the Whig party, that I was esteemed no longer either useful or
ornamental in the concern, you will, I am sure, indulge me in some
reminiscences which seem to befit the occasion.

"I was a poor young printer and editor of a literary journal--a very
active and bitter Whig in a small way, but not seeking to be known out
of my own ward committee--when, after the great political revulsion of
1837, I was one day called to the City Hotel, where two strangers
introduced themselves as Thurlow Weed and Lewis Benedict, of Albany.
They told me that a cheap campaign paper of a peculiar stamp at Albany
had been resolved on, and that I had been selected to edit it. The
announcement might well be deemed flattering by one who had never even
sought the notice of the great, and who was not known as a partisan
writer, and I eagerly embraced their proposals. They asked me to fix
my salary for the year; I named $1,000, which they agreed to; and I
did the work required to the best of my ability. It was work that made
no figure and created no sensation; but I loved it and did it well.
When it was done you were Governor, dispensing offices worth $3000 to
$20,000 per year to your friends and compatriots, and I returned to my
garret and my crust, and my desperate battle with pecuniary
obligations heaped upon me by bad partners in business and the
disastrous events of 1837. I believe it did not then occur to me that
some of these abundant places might have been offe