hed in the eyes of childhood, only to be
entombed in the missionary-box. And he would come down radiant from a
weekly balance-sheet, clap me on the shoulder, declare himself a winner
by Gargantuan figures, and prove destitute of a quarter for a drink.

"What on earth have you done with it?" I would ask.

"Into the mill again; all re-invested!" he would cry, with infinite
delight. "Investment" was ever his word. He could not bear what he
called gambling. "Never touch stocks, Loudon," he would say; "nothing
but legitimate business." And yet, Heaven knows, many an indurated
gambler might have drawn back appalled at the first hint of some of
Pinkerton's investments! One which I succeeded in tracking home, an
instance for a specimen, was a seventh share in the charter of a certain
ill-starred schooner bound for Mexico--to smuggle weapons on the one
trip, and cigars upon the other. The latter end of this enterprise,
involving (as it did) shipwreck, confiscation, and a lawsuit with the
underwriters, was too painful to be dwelt upon at length. "It's proved a
disappointment," was as far as my friend would go with me in words; but
I knew, from observation, that the fabric of his fortunes tottered. For
the rest, it was only by accident I got wind of the transaction; for
Pinkerton, after a time, was shy of introducing me to his arcana: the
reason you are to hear presently.

The office which was (or should have been) the point of rest for so many
evolving dollars stood in the heart of the city--a high and spacious
room, with many plate-glass windows. A glazed cabinet of polished
red-wood offered to the eye a regiment of some two hundred bottles
conspicuously labelled. These were all charged with Pinkerton's Thirteen
Star, although from across the room it would have required an expert to
distinguish them from the same number of bottles of Courvoisier. I used
to twit my friend with this resemblance, and propose a new edition of
the pamphlet, with the title thus improved, "Why Drink French Brandy,
When We give You the same Labels?" The doors of the cabinet revolved
all day upon their hinges; and if there entered any one who was a
stranger to the merits of the brand, he departed laden with a bottle.
When I used to protest at this extravagance, "My dear Loudon," Pinkerton
would cry, "you don't seem to catch on to business principles! The prime
cost of the spirit is literally nothing. I couldn't find a cheaper
advertisement if I tried."