to the editor.  For a time, from some reason or other, I undertook this reviewing.  Possession of the books was the only recompense, though for all other work payment in money was made.  It was a daring thing on my part and I am sure many a reader of the paper must have smiled at my criticisms.  I forget why I soon gave up the duty; probably from incompetence, for I am sure I was not at all qualified for such a task; but what will the audacity of youth not attempt?  This journalistic work occupied much of my spare time, but it supplemented my income, a consideration of no little importance, for in October, 1876, I had entered the married state.  My wife came from the Midlands of England.  My friends became her friends, and other friends we made.  Children soon appeared on the scene; my bachelor days were over.

Societies amongst the staff of a railway company, whether for the purpose of physical recreation, for mutual improvement or for social enjoyment are to be much commended.  The assembling together of employees of various ages, filling various positions, from the several departments, from different districts, freed from business, and mixing on equal terms for common objects, promotes good feeling and good fellowship, provides pleasant memories for after life, gives a zest to work, and adds to the efficiency of the service.

Amongst all my fellow clerks I remember one only who resembled as a borrower some of my quondam associates at Derby.  But this was in Scotland where more provident ways prevailed.  He was a married man, about 30 years of age, with a salary of 100 pounds a year.  By no means what one would call a nice fellow, he had nothing of the bonhomie or light-hearted good nature that distinguished my Derby friends.  He possessed a good figure, wore fierce moustaches, and affected a military air.  One suit of well-made, well-cut clothes by some means or other he managed to keep in a state of freshness and smoothness nothing short of marvellous.  Borrowing was his besetting sin, and he was always head over ears in debt.  Duns pursued him to the office and he sometimes hid from them in a huge safe which the office contained.  It was a wretched life, but he brazened it out with wonderful effrontery, and, outwardly, seemed happy enough.  From all who would lend he borrowed, and rarely I believe repaid.  Once I was his victim, but only once.  I lent him 3 pounds, and, strange to say, he returned it.  Of course he approached me again, but I had read and digested the master’s wisdom and determined to “neither a borrower nor a lender be.”