‘You spoke of him in the past tense,’ observed Martin, ‘so I supposed he was no more.
‘He’s no more in England,’ said Bill, ‘if that’s what you mean. He went to the U-nited States.’
‘Did he?’ asked Martin, with sudden interest. ‘When?’
‘Five year ago, or then about,’ said Bill. ‘He had set up in the public line here, and couldn’t meet his engagements, so he cut off to Liverpool one day, without saying anything about it, and went and shipped himself for the U-nited States.’
‘Well?’ said Martin.
‘Well! as he landed there without a penny to bless himself with, of course they wos very glad to see him in the U-nited States.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Martin, with some scorn.
‘What do I mean?’ said Bill. ‘Why, that. All men are alike in the U-nited States, an’t they? It makes no odds whether a man has a thousand pound, or nothing, there. Particular in New York, I’m told, where Ned landed.’
‘New York, was it?’ asked Martin, thoughtfully.
‘Yes,’ said Bill. ‘New York. I know that, because he sent word home that it brought Old York to his mind, quite vivid, in consequence of being so exactly unlike it in every respect. I don’t understand what particular business Ned turned his mind to, when he got there; but he wrote home that him and his friends was always a-singing, Ale Columbia, and blowing up the President, so I suppose it was something in the public line; or free-and-easy way again. Anyhow, he made his fortune.’