“I told you that I arrived in New York upon brother’s reception-night.  Those Friday evenings wore a great source of pleasure to me, introducing me as they did to the literary coterie of the metropolis.  Nearly all the men and women of note at that time met in our parlors on Greenwich Street, and many of them were regular or occasional contributors to brother’s journal.  Among the names that I can recall, were Gen. Morris, then editing the New York Mirror; the two Clark brothers, editors of the Knickerbocker, one of whom, Willis Gaylord Clark, was at that time writing his clever ‘Ollapodiana;’ Fitz-Greene Halleck, the poet; George M. Snow, who later in life became financial editor of The Tribune, and is now deceased; Professor A. C. Kendrick, of Hamilton College, the translator of Schiller’s ‘Victor’s Triumph,’ which subsequently appeared in The New Yorker, and which, you will remember, your uncle has occasionally read for us at our own Tuesday evening receptions; Mrs. O. M. Sawyer, the accomplished wife of brother’s pastor, then making her debut in the literary world with poems and occasional translations from the German; Elizabeth Jessup Eames, who was writing stories and poems for The New Yorker, under the signature of ‘Stella;’ Mrs. E. F. Ellet, in 1836 a handsome young bride, who had come up from the South, and was contributing translations from the French and German to the same journal; Anne Cora Lynch, now Madame Botta; and many others.

“I must not forget to mention Fisher, the sub-editor of The New Yorker, and, in his own estimation, the most important person upon that journal.  He was what might be called a literary fop, and was much given to the production of highly-wrought, Byronic poems and sketches.  I remember hearing that some one called one day at the office, and asked to see the editor.  Fisher immediately presented himself.

“‘What!’ said the visitor, somewhat surprised, ‘are you Mr. Greeley?’

“‘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.’