He was among my earliest acquaintances. It is not many years since he died; and I and two other tottering old fellows took hack, and in sole procession followed him to his grave. Jimmy was born a man of moderate fortune. In his prime he had an uncommonly handsome person; large and manly, with bright eyes of blue, brown curling hair, and cheeks that seemed painted with carmine; but it was health’s genuine bloom, deepened by the joy of life. He was by nature a great ladies’ man, and like most deep adorers of the sex, never tied up his freedom of general worship by making one wilful sacrifice of himself at the altar. Adding to his fortune by a large and princely business, something like that of the great Florentine trader, Cosmo the Magnificent, he was enabled to entertain on a grand scale. For a long time his dinners, suppers, and balls were not to be surpassed by any given in the party-giving city of New York. His uncommon cheeriness, the splendour of his dress, his sparkling wit, radiant chandeliers, infinite fund of small talk, French furniture, glowing welcomes to his guests, his bounteous heart and board, his noble graces and his glorious wine, what wonder if all these drew crowds to Jimmy’s hospitable abode? In the winter assemblies he figured first on the manager’s list. James Rose, Esq., too, was the man to be found foremost in all presentations of plate to highly successful actors at the Park, or of swords and guns to highly successful generals in the field. Often, also, was he chosen to present the gift on account of his fine gift of finely saying fine things. ‘Sir,’ said he, in a great drawing-room in Broadway, as he extended toward General G---- a brace of pistols set with turquoise. ‘Sir,’ said Jimmy, with a Castilian flourish and a rosy smile, ‘there would have been more turquoise here set, had the names of your glorious victories left room.’ Ah, Jimmy, Jimmy! Thou didst excel in compliments. But it was inwrought with thy inmost texture to be affluent in all things which give pleasure. And who shall reproach thee with borrowed wit on this occasion, though borrowed indeed it was? Plagiarise otherwise as they may, not often are the men of this world plagiarists in praise. But times changed. Time, true plagiarist of the seasons. Sudden and terrible reverses in business were made mortal by mad prodigality on all hands. When his affairs came to be scrutinised, it was found that Jimmy could not pay more than fifteen shillings in the pound. And yet in time the deficiency might have been made up--of course, leaving Jimmy penniless--had it not been that in one winter gale two vessels of his from China perished off Sandy Hook; perished at the threshold of their port. Jimmy was a ruined man.