"Well, stranger, I hope it will happen that we go up together, if I go at all. And now let us exchange cards. My name is Purvis, as you see, of Louisville, Kentucky." The lounger fumbled in his pockets for a card to give to Mr. Purvis, but finding none, half-blushingly announced that his cards were out, but that his name was George Ellsworth. "Ellsworth? Well, sir, you rejoice in a right honorable name. I've heard my Uncle Throckmorton talk a great deal about one of the Ellsworths of Connecticut." It was evident to me that "Ellsworth" was making fast inroads into the good graces of Purvis, and of the latter's character I was beginning to be at a loss; for though I had from his name connected him at first with a criminal transaction, yet his manner, in conversation with "Ellsworth," did not seem to sustain my early suspicions. Their conversation now assumed a lower tone, as Purvis had drawn nearer up to Ellsworth, the two acting very like old acquaintances by this time; so I managed to draw nearer them, fumbling over the envelopes of some old letters I had taken from my pocket, and assuming to be in a "brown study" over something. "Well, isn't this a little dull, Mr. Purvis? I've been waiting here an hour or so, expecting a particular friend along, with whom I was going out for a while to look about. But he has been obliged to disappoint me, I suppose," said Ellsworth. "Yes, it is a little dull, as you say; a stranger, especially, is apt to be very lonesome in a big city. Do you ever take wine, Mr. Ellsworth?" "Seldom, sir, especially when away from home; but I don't mind a glass now and then." "Come, sir, accompany me, if you will. I would invite you to my room to take wine, but unfortunately they're so crowded here they've been obliged to put me far up. Suppose we go to the bar?" "Well, if you please; but you'll pardon me when I say that I must not indulge but once now. The night is long yet, and we shall have other occasion, perhaps, to drink. I know how generous and impulsive you Southern gentlemen are." "O, surely, I know we are apt to 'go ahead,' like Davy Crockett, when we are right, and when we are not, too; but come along, please," and the trusting Purvis carelessly locked his arm in that of Ellsworth, and they moved towards the bar-room. My first intention was to follow them, but I hesitated, and waited their return. They were gone a far longer time than necessary to take one glass, and when they came along down the hall, rested but a moment at the door, and stepped out down Broadway together. "Ellsworth has his victim in sure training," thought I to myself. "Where can they be going?"