——­I was dazzled, perplexed,—­so entirely new, strange, incredible was all this to me; but I expressed to the little Frenchman, in what terms I could command, my profound sense of his genius and originality.

“Eh, bien! I went to Europe,” resumed he, “and John Meavy, my brave comrade, stayed in New York, buying and selling flour, and turning over his capital with a rapidity of success that surprised everybody; while his modest demeanor, his chivalry of manner, and his noble generosity won the admission of all, that Prosperity chose well, when she elected John for her favorite.

“At the end of a year we were worth nearly half a million of dollars, and our credit was perfect.  Then, however, John wrote for me to come home.  He was engaged to be married, he said, wanted me to be present at the ceremony, and wished my aid in effecting some changes in our mode of business.  I was not unwilling, for I also had some suggestions to make.  I was tired of my place as operator; I yearned to quit my post of simple spectator, and to plunge head-foremost into the strife of money-getting.  Apart from my irksome position, I felt myself more fit for John’s post than he was.  As the capital we worked with increased, John waxed cautious, and, most illogically, announced himself afraid to venture, —­as if his risk were not as great with ten thousand as with a million!  This did not suit me.  I felt myself capable of using money as mere counters, I divested it of all the terrors of magnitude, and thus I knew I could do as much in proportion with five million dollars as with five dollars.  And the result, I was perfectly aware, would be to those achieved by John as the elephant in his normal strength compares with the elephant whose strength is to his size as the flea’s strength to his size.  John could take the flea’s leap with five dollars, but was satisfied with the elephant’s leap with five million dollars.

“So I took the next steamer, reached New York safely, and was most cordially welcomed by my noble John Meavy, who seemed exuberant with the happiness in store for him.  Before he would say a word about business, he insisted upon taking me to his betrothed’s, and introduced me to his lovely Cornelia.  He had chosen well, Monsieur:  his bride was worthy a throne; she was worthy John Meavy himself,—­a woman refined, charming, entirely perfect.  At John’s solicitation, I was his groomsman; I accompanied him upon his wedding-tour; and mine was the last hand he clasped, as he stood on the steamer’s deck, on his way to Europe to take my place at the head of the Liverpool house.  How many kind words he lavished upon me! how many a good and kindly piece of advice he murmured in my ear at that farewell moment!  Ah!  I do not think John wished to go thither; he was ever a home-body; and I am sure his wife disliked it much.  But they saw it was my desire, they seemed to regard me as the builder-up of their fortunes, and they yielded without a murmur. Bete that I was!  Yet I was not selfish, Monsieur.  Building up in dreams my fortune Babel-high, I built up also ever the fortune of John Meavy and his peerless wife to a point just as near the clouds. Eh, bien! it amounted to nothing in the end, all this; but—­I was not selfish!