it, the moral ends to which
(besides making it a vehicle of news and the discussion of ephemeral
topics) he devoted it, that will give him his peculiar place in history.
If he had had no higher aim than to supply the market for current
intelligence, as a great merchant supplies the market for dry-goods, he
would have deserved to rank with the builders-up of other prosperous
establishments by which passing contemporary wants were supplied, but
would have had no claim on the remembrance of coming generations. But he
regarded his journal not primarily as a property, but as the instrument
of high moral and political ends; an instrument whose great potency for
good or ill he fully comprehended, and for whose salutary direction he
felt a corresponding responsibility. His simple tastes, inexpensive
habits, his contempt for the social show and parade which are the chief
use made of wealth, and the absorption of his mind in other aims, made
it impossible for him to think of the _Tribune_ merely as a source of
income, and he always managed it mainly with a view to make it an
efficient organ for diffusing opinions which he thought conducive to the
public welfare. It was this which distinguished Mr. Greeley from the
founders of other important journals, who have, in recent years, been
taken from us. With him the moral aim was always paramount, the
pecuniary aim subordinate. Journalism, as he looked upon it, was not an
end, but a means to higher ends. He may have had many mistaken and some
erratic opinions on particular subjects; but the moral earnestness with
which he pursued his vocation, and his constant subordination of private
interest to public objects, nobly atone for his occasional errors.

Among the means by which Mr. Greeley gained, and so long held, the first
place among American journalists, was his manner of writing. His
negative merits as a writer were great; and it would be surprising to
find these negative merits so rare as to be a title to distinction, if
observation did not force the faults he avoided so perpetually upon our
notice. He had no verbiage. We do not merely mean by this that he never
used a superfluous word (which, in fact, he rarely did), but that he
kept quite clear of the hazy, half-relevant ideas which encumber meaning
and are the chief source of prolixity. He threw away every idea that did
not decidedly help on his argument, and expressed the others in the
fewest words that would make them clear. He