wrought as editor, writer, and lecturer for the good of his
country and the uplifting of mankind. "He who by voice or pen," he
said, "strikes his best blow at the impostures or vices whereby
our race is debased and paralyzed, may close his eyes in death,
consoled and cheered by the reflection that he has done what he
could for the emancipation and elevation of his kind."

Well, then, might he rejoice in his life work, for his voice and
pen had to the last been active in thus serving the race.

He died on November 29, 1872, at the age of sixty-one. So great a
man had Horace Greeley, the poor New Hampshire farmer boy, become
that the whole nation mourned for his death. The people felt that
in him they had lost one of their best friends. A workman who
attended his funeral expressed the feeling of his fellow-workmen
all over the land when he said, "It is little enough to lose a day
for Horace Greeley who spent many a day working for us." "I've
come a hundred miles to be at the funeral of Horace Greeley," said
a farmer.

The great tribune had deserved well of the people and of his
country.





THE MIGHT OF PATIENCE