cultivated an ordinary smile to such an extraordinary degree
that, to use the common hyperbole, it reached from ear to ear. By
nature he was good-tempered and genial; but, having devoted every
mental as well as physical endowment to the making of money, what
few drops of spiritual water were in him had to go with the rest
to the turning of the mill-wheel that ground the universe into
coin. In his own eyes he was a strong churchman, but the only
sign of it visible to others was the strength of his contempt for
dissenters--which, however, excepting his partner and Mary, he
showed only to church-people; a dissenter's money being, as he
often remarked, when once in his till, as good as the best
churchman's.

To the receptive eye he was a sight not soon to be forgotten, as
he bent over a piece of goods outspread before a customer, one
hand resting on the stuff, the other on the yard-measure, his
chest as nearly touching the counter as the protesting adjacent
parts would permit, his broad smooth face turned up at right
angles, and his mouth, eloquent even to solemnity on the merits
of the article, now hiding, now disclosing a gulf of white teeth.
No sooner was anything admitted into stock, than he bent his soul
to the selling of it, doing everything that could be done, saying
everything he could think of saying, short of plain lying as to
its quality: that he was not guilty of. To buy well was a care to
him, to sell well was a greater, but to make money, and that as
speedily as possible, was his greatest care, and his whole
ambition.

John Turnbull in his gig, as he drove along the road to the town,
and through the street approached his shop-door, showed to the