Other men of his class would have spent this money, if they had spent it at all, in the low groggeries on Water street. Not so Ben Hogan. The pirate of yesterday was changed into an elaborately dressed gentleman to-day. His quiet manner and respectful bearing carried him into circles which his former companions could never have entered. In the costliest of broadcloth, with a magnificent diamond upon his immaculate shirt-front, Ben moved among the "bloods" of New York, a brilliant but unknown star. And a jolly life he led of it while his "boodle" lasted. A good deal has been written about the extravagance of Jim Fisk during his palmy days; but Fisk never spent money half as recklessly as did Ben Hogan when he struck New York at that time. In a single day he went through with seven hundred dollars, simply for wine and cigars. In company with a very beautiful, but not over-virtuous woman, he drove through Fifth avenue in an open coach drawn by four white horses, drinking champagne as he went. He stepped into a small saloon on Cortlandt street one day and asked the proprietor what he considered the establishment worth. "Five hundred dollars," was the answer. Ben pulled out an immense roll of bank-notes, laid a five-hundred-dollar bill upon the bar, and told the man to "clear out." The astonished bar keeper took the money, and did as directed. Then Hogan invited the "setters" about the place to help themselves to whatever they wanted, and wound up by presenting the establishment, with all its fixtures, to an old man whom he had never seen before. It goes without saying that this sort of career soon made a serious hole in his pile. Living in elegant up-town apartments; supporting half a dozen women in princely style; drinking nothing but the choicest wines, and scattering his money on every side, it did not take very long to go through the entire fifty thousand dollars. It should be remembered that he was still a mere boy, but he showed himself quite a man in recklessness and extravagance. When his last dollar had been parted with, Ben again became a vagabond in search of work. He was glad to take up with anything that offered itself, and that anything was a job on a tow-boat. He made two trips, during which he found time to thrash the mate--for which little service the captain of the boat thanked him sincerely. His reputation as a boxer began to spread, and under the belief that he had learned all there was to learn of the manly art, he once more returned to Syracuse, intending to remain there permanently.