"What good did that do me? Why, I had something to show for my pains, something that would keep. They wanted me to ride up on the back of a jackass to the top of a mountain to see a cavern where some she saint or other used to live,--St. Rosa Lee, or some such nigger-minstrel name."
"St. Rosaly or St. Rosa Lee, it comes to pretty much the same. She was fool enough to leave a comfortable home--inside of a palace, too, be gad--and go and live all alone by herself in that cavern. Well, they wanted me to ride up on the jackass and see it. 'No,' says I, 'you don't ketch me,' says I; 'if I did, I might as well change places with the jackass right away,' says I."
"Yes, sir, bad health and hard luck, that's ben the finishing of me, or else this minute I could show you my solid hundred thousand. The fire was what begun it all. A splendid freestone-front store, that hadn't its beat in all New York, chock full of goods, that worn't more than half covered by the insurance, burnt clean down to the sidewalk! Then come the great failure you've heard of--Bragg, Dash, and Bustup. I tell you, I was sucked in there to a handsome figger. Top of all that, my health caved in,--uh,--uh,--uh." Here the coughing grew violent. "Well, I'm a gone sucker, and it's no use crying over spilt milk. But if it worn't for bad health and damned hard luck, I should have been worth a hun--uh--uh--uh--a hundred thousand dol--uh--uh--dollars,--uh--uh--uh--uh--uh."
"This wind is too sharp for you," observed Morton.
"Fact," said the invalid; "I can't stand it no how."
He went down to the cabin, Morton's eye following him in pity and disgust.
The useful science of the world to know, Which books can never teach, nor pedants show.--_Lyttleton_.
The steamer, in due time, reached Liverpool; but Morton remained only a few days in England, crossing to Boulogne, and thence to Paris. Here he arrived late one afternoon; and taking his seat at the _table d'hôte_ of Meurice's Hotel, he presently discovered among the guests the familiar profile of Vinal, who was just returned from a flying tour through the provinces. Vinal seemed not to see him; but at the close of the dinner, Morton came behind his chair and spoke to him. At his side sat a young man, whose face Morton remembered to have seen before. Vinal introduced him as Mr. Richards. When a boy, he had been a schoolmate of them both, and now called himself a medical student, living on the other side of the Seine. Having been in Paris for two years or more, he had, as he prided himself, a thorough knowledge of it; that is to say, he knew its sights of all kinds, and places of amusement of high and low degree. The sagacious Vinal thought himself happy in so able and zealous a guide.