My eyes! Won't there be a scramble
for them!"
Next day our prospectus appeared in the newspapers. It was read,
canvassed, and generally approved of. During the afternoon I took an
opportunity of looking into the Tontine, and, while under shelter of
the Glasgow "Herald," my ears were solaced with such ejaculations as the
following:
"I say, Jimsy, hae ye seen this grand new prospectus for a railway tae
Glenmutchkin?"
"Ay. It looks no that ill. The Hieland lairds are pitting their best
foremost. Will ye apply for shares?"
"I think I'll tak' twa hundred. Wha's Sir Polloxfen Tremens?"
"He'll be yin o' the Ayrshire folk. He used to rin horses at the Paisley
races."
("The devil he did!" thought I.)
"D' ye ken ony o' the directors, Jimsy?"
"I ken Sawley fine. Ye may depend on 't, it's a gude thing if he's in
't, for he's a howkin' body.
"Then it's sure to gae up. What prem. d' ye think it will bring?"
"Twa pund a share, and maybe mair."
"'Od, I'll apply for three hundred!"
"Heaven bless you, my dear countrymen!" thought I, as I sallied forth to
refresh myself with a basin of soup, "do but maintain this liberal
and patriotic feeling--this thirst for national improvement, internal
communication, and premiums--a short while longer, and I know whose
fortune will be made.
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