Bob was right.  No sooner did the advertisement appear than a simultaneous groan was uttered by some hundreds of disappointed speculators, who, with unwonted and unnecessary caution, had been anxious to see their way a little before committing themselves to our splendid enterprise.  In consequence, they rushed into the market, with intense anxiety to make what terms they could at the earliest stage, and the seven and sixpence of premium was doubled in the course of a forenoon.

The allocation passed over very peaceably.  Sawley, Heckles, Jobson, Grabbie, and the Captain of M’Alcohol, besides myself, attended, and took part in the business.  We were also threatened with the presence of the M’Closkie and Vich-Induibh; but M’Corkindale, entertaining some reasonable doubts as to the effect which their corporeal appearance might have upon the representatives of the dissenting interest, had taken the precaution to get them snugly housed in a tavern, where an unbounded supply of gratuitous Ferintosh deprived us of the benefit of their experience.  We, however, allotted them twenty shares apiece.  Sir Polloxfen Tremens sent a handsome, though rather illegible, letter of apology, dated from an island in Loch Lomond, where he was said to be detained on particular business.

Mr. Sawley, who officiated as our chairman, was kind enough, before parting, to pass a very flattering eulogium upon the excellence and candour of all the preliminary arrangements.  It would now, he said, go forth to the public that the line was not, like some others he could mention, a mere bubble, emanating from the stank of private interest, but a solid, lasting superstructure, based upon the principles of sound return for capital, and serious evangelical truth (hear, hear!).  The time was fast approaching when the gravestone with the words “HIC OBIT” chiselled upon it would be placed at the head of all the other lines which rejected the grand opportunity of conveying education to the stoker.  The stoker, in his (Mr. Sawley’s) opinion, had a right to ask the all-important question, “Am I not a man and a brother?” (Cheers.) Much had been said and written lately about a work called “Tracts for the Times.”  With the opinions contained in that publication he was not conversant, as it was conducted by persons of another community from that to which he (Mr. Sawley) had the privilege to belong.  But he hoped very soon, under the auspices of the Glenmutchkin Railway Company, to see a new periodical established, under the title of “Tracts for the Trains.”  He never for a moment would relax his efforts to knock a nail into the coffin which, he might say, was already made and measured and cloth-covered for the reception of all establishments; and with these sentiments, and the conviction that the shares must rise, could it be doubted that he would remain a fast friend to the interests of this company for ever? (Much cheering.)

After having delivered this address, Mr. Sawley affectionately squeezed the hands of his brother directors, and departed, leaving several of us much overcome.  As, however, M’Corkindale had told me that every one of Sawley’s shares had been disposed of in the market the day before, I felt less compunction at having refused to allow that excellent man an extra thousand beyond the amount he had applied for, notwithstanding his broadest hints and even private entreaties.