-natured man, liberal in small things, a pleasant associate, but
lacking in morality and without principle. He paid for one of the best
pews in the church Winn's aunt attended, which was always occupied by
his wife and family, and by him occasionally; he contributed for
charitable and missionary work in an ostentatious way, always insisting
that it be known how much he gave; belonged to a club where gambling was
the chief amusement and the members of which were mostly stock brokers,
speculators, and fast men about town; he wore the latest and most
fashionable raiment, and drove a dashing turnout. Before the firm of
Weston & Hill had been established he had been the manager of what is
known as a bucket shop, and when that failed (as they always do, soon or
late) he began his career as a promoter. In this he was not
over-successful, mainly from lack of funds to carry out his schemes; but
when the conceited, shallow-minded Hill was induced to walk into his
parlor, Weston began to soar. Hill was a retired manufacturer and
bigoted church member who had saved a small fortune by miserly living,
stealing trade marks, copying designs, making cheap imitations of other
manufacturers' goods, and cutting prices. He thirsted for fame as a
great financier and longed to be a power in the stock market. Weston,
whose business arguments usually contained equal parts of religion and
possible profit-making, in due proportion to the credulity and piety of
his victims, and who could time a horse race, play a game of poker, or
utter a fervid exhortation with equal facility, easily led Hill into the
investment and brokerage business, and so the firm was established.

This was J. Malcolm Weston.

Of Hill, though his counterpart exists, but not in plenty, an explicit
description shall be given. He was of medium size with a sharp hawklike
nose, retreating forehead, deep-set fishy eyes, ears that stood out like
small wings, and a handclasp as cold and lifeless as a pump-handle. His
sole object of conversation was himself; he had pinched pennies, denied
himself all luxuries, and lived to be hated, till he grew rich. It was
one of his kind of whom the story is told that, having died rich (as
usual), a stranger passing the church on the day of the funeral asked of
the sexton at the door, "What complaint?" and received the reply, "None
whatever; everybody satisfied."

Weston, liberal rascal that he was, was not long in learning to hate his
mean-natur