"There you have missed it. He lost the whole of _a_ fortune, but not the whole of _his_. He must have a million of dollars left, and a man with that is not poor in any country--certainly it was a great catch for Miss Macintyre, without a red cent of her own. She jilted a Frenchman for him: the unfortunate, or fortunate cast-off had ordered much jewelry and other wedding presents, and when left in the lurch he quietly proposed that, as he had no longer any use for the articles, Harrison, who had, should take them off his hands; and this offer was accepted. Very French in him to make it--don't you think so?--and rather American in the other to take it. Well, I hope Harrison will come this way soon; I should really like you to know him." One or two days after this conversation Ashburner met his friend walking up and down the interminable piazza of the Bath Hotel, arm-in-arm with a middle-aged man, who presented as great a contrast to Benson's usual associates, and to Benson himself, as could well be imagined. The new-comer was short of stature and square-built, rather ugly, and any thing but graceful; he wore very good clothes, but they were badly put on, and looked as if they had never undergone the brush since leaving the tailor's hands; he wore no gloves, and in short had altogether an unfashionable appearance. But though indubitably an unfashionable man, he did not give you the impression of a vulgar one; there was nothing snobbish or pretentious in his ugliness, and his cavernous black eye could have belonged only to an intelligent and able man. Benson was joking or pressing upon him some matter which he seemed unwilling to explain. "But do tell me," said Harry, as they passed Ashburner, "what _have_ you been doing to yourself? Sprained your finger by working too hard the night before last packet day? or tumbled down from running too fast in Wall-street, and not thinking which way you were going?" And he took in his own delicate white hand the rough paw of the stranger, which was partly bound up as if suffering from some recent injury. "If you must know," said the other, stopping short his walk, "I broke my knuckles on an Irish hackman's teeth. Last week the fellow drove me from the North River boat to my house in Union Square, and I offered him seventy-five cents. He was very insolent and demanded a dollar. If I had had a dollar-note about me I might have given it to him, but it happened that I had only the six shillings in change; and so, knowing that was two shillings more than his legal fare, I became as positive as he. At last he seized my trunk, and then I could not resist the temptation of giving him a left-hander that sent him clean down the steps into the gutter." "And then?