Scotland 477England and Wales 156Ireland 121
and the mileage, capital, revenue, expenditure, interest and dividends for 1912, the latest year of which the figures, owing to the war, are published by the Board of Trade, are as follows:—
Average rateof interestand dividend.Per cent.Miles. Capital. Revenue. Expenditure.£ £ £Englandand Wales 16,223 1,103,310,000 110,499,000 70,499,000 3-58Scotland 3,815 186,304,000 13,508,000 7,882,000 3-07Ireland 3,403 45,349,000 4,545,000 2,842,000 3-83
The General Manager of the Glasgow and South-Western Railway and his office I have described, but I have not spoken, except in a general way, of the other principal officers, with whom, as Mr. Wainwright’s assistant, I came into close and intimate relationship. They, alas! are no more. I have outlived them all. Each has played his part, and made, as we all must do, his exit from the stage of life.
Prominent amongst these officers was John Mathieson, Superintendent of the Line, who was only twenty-nine when appointed to that responsible post. We became good friends. He began work at the early age of thirteen, had grown up on the railway and at nineteen was a station master. He was skilful in out-door railway work, and an adept in managing trains and traffic. Ambitious and a bit touchy regarding his office, all was not always peace between his and other departments, particularly the goods manager’s. The goods manager was not aggressive, and it was sometimes thought that Mathieson inclined to encroach upon his territory. Often angry correspondenceand sometimes angry discussion ensued. Yet, take him for all in all, John Mathieson was a fine man with nothing small in his composition. Soon his ambition was gratified. In 1889 he was appointed Chief Commissioner of the Railways of Queensland; and after a few years occupation of that post was invited by the Victorian Government to the same position in connection with the railways of that important State. In 1900 he left Australia and became General Manager of the Midland Railway; but his health unfortunately soon failed, and at the comparatively early age of sixty he died at Derby in the year 1906. In his early days, on the Glasgow and South-Western, Mathieson was a hard fighter. Those were the days when between the Scottish railway companies the keenest rivalry and the bitterest competition existed. The Clearing House in London, where the railway representatives met periodically to discuss and arrange rates and fares and matters relating to traffic generally, was the scene of many a battle. Men like James MacLaren of the North British, Tom Robertson of the Highland, Irvine Kempt of the Caledonian, and A. G. Reid of the Great North of Scotland were worthy of Mathieson’s steel. Usually Mathieson held his own. Irvine Kempt I cannot imagine was as keen a fighter as the rest, for he was rather a dignified gentleman with fine manners. To gain a few tons of fish from a rival route, by superior service, keen canvassing, or by other less legitimate means, was a source of fierce joy to these ardent spirits. The disputes were sometimes concerned with through traffic between England and Scotland, and then the English railway representatives took part, but not with the keenness and intensity of their northern brethren, for the Saxon blood has not the fiery quality of the crimson stream that courses through the veins of the Celt. Now all is changed. Combination has succeeded to competition, alliances and agreements are the tranquil order of the day, and the Clearing House has become a Temple of Peace.
Between David Dickie, Goods Manager, and John Mathieson, Passenger Superintendent, as I have said, many differences arose. I sometimes thought that Mathieson might well have shown more consideration to one so much his senior in years as Dickie was. Poor Dickie! Before I left Scotland he met a tragic death. He was a kind-hearted man, a canny Scot, and died rich.
James Stirling was the Locomotive Superintendent. He and Mathiesondid not always agree, and the clash of arms frequently raged between them. Mr. Wainwright’s suavity often, and not infrequently his authority, were required to adjust these domestic broils, but as all deferred to him willingly, the storms that arose were usually short lived.
In 1878 Mathieson and I took a short holiday together and crossed to Ireland. It was our first visit to that unquiet but delightful country, in which, little as I thought then, I was destined a few years later to make my home.
It was in January, 1879, that the headquarters of the company were removed from the old and narrow Bridge Street Station to the new palatial St. Enoch, and there a splendid set of offices was provided. This was another advantage much to my taste. St. Enoch was and is certainly a most handsome and commodious terminus. Originally it had one great roof of a single span, second only to that of St. Pancras Station. Other spans, not so great, have since been added, for the business of St. Enoch rapidly grew, and enlarged accommodation soon became necessary. In 1879 it had six long and spacious platforms, now it has twelve; then the number of trains in and out was 43 daily, now it has reached 286; then the mileage of the railway was 319, now it is 466; then the employees of the company numbered 4,010 and now they are over 10,000. These figures exemplify the material growth of industrial Scotland in the forty years that have passed. St. Enoch Station was not disfigured by trade advertisements, and it is with great satisfaction I learn that the same good taste has prevailed to this day. Not long after it was opened a great grocery and provision firm, the knightly head of which is still a well-known name, offered to the company a large annual sum for the use of the space under the platform clock, which could be seen from all parts of the station, which the directors, on the representation of their general manager, declined; and I am proud to remember that my own views on the subject, pretty forcibly expressed, when my chief discussed the subject with me, strengthened his convictions and helped to carry the day in the board room. The indiscriminate and inartistic way in which throughout the land advertisements of all sorts crowd our station walls and platforms is an outrage on good taste. If advertisements must appear there, some hand and eye endowed with the rudiments of art ought to control them. In nocountry in the world does the same ugly display mar the appearance of railway stations; and considering what myriad eyes daily rest on station premises it is well worth while on æsthetic grounds to make their appearance as pleasant and as little vulgar as possible. The question of revenue to the companies need not be ignored for proper and efficient control would produce order, moderation, neatness, artistic effect—and profit.
With the principal clerks of the office staff my relations were very pleasant. The consideration with which I was treated by my chief, and the footing upon which I stood with him, gave me a certain influence which otherwise I should not have possessed. Till then there had been absent from the company’s staff any gathering together for purposes of common interest or mutual enjoyment. TheRailway Benevolent Institutionprovided a rallying point. I had been appointed its representative on the Glasgow and South-Western Railway and we held meetings and arranged concerts in its aid. Then, after a time, we established for the principal clerks and goods agents and certain grades of station masters, an annual day excursion into the country, with a dinner and songs and speeches. “Tatlow is good at the speak,” said publicly one of my colleagues, in his broad Scotch way, and so far as it was true this I daresay helped me. I was made permanent president of these excursions and feasts, and often had to “hold forth,” which I must confess I rather enjoyed. We christened ourselvesThe Railway Ramblers. The fact that I became the Scotch correspondent of theRailway Official Gazette, a regular contributor to theRailway News, and had access to the columns of several newspapers, enabled reports of our doings to appear in print, and diffused some pleasure and pride throughout the service. Also I became a weekly contributor ofScotch Notesto theMontreal Herald. In theRailway Official Gazettewas a column devoted to short reviews of new books which were sent 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 journalisticwork 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 a year. By no means what one would call a nice fellow, he had nothing of thebonhomieor 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, and, strange to say, he returned it. Of course he approached me again, but I had read and digested themaster’swisdom and determined to “neither a borrower nor a lender be.”
Prominent amongst the principal clerks was David Cooper. When I left Glasgow he succeeded me as assistant to the general manager. Now he is general manager of the company himself. Recently he celebrated his 50th year of railway service. Like me, he entered railway life in 1867; but,unlike me, has not been a rolling stone. One company only he has served and served it well, and for nearly a quarter of a century has filled the highest office it has to bestow. He and I have been more fortunate than many of our old-time colleagues. In the list of officers of the Glasgow and South-Western to-day I see the names of two only, besides David Cooper, who were principal clerks in those days—F. H. Gillies, now secretary of the company, and George Russell, Telegraph Superintendent.
In railways, as in other departments of life, ability and industry usually have their reward; but alone they do not always command success. Other factors there are in the equation of life and not least luck and opportunity. In those distant days, in the pride of youth, I was too apt to think that they who succeeded owed their success to themselves alone; but the years have taught me that this is not always so, and I have learned to sympathise more and more with those to whom opportunity has never held out her hand and upon whom good luck has never smiled.
In the last few chapters I have made but little mention of Tom. The time was drawing nearer when I was to lose him for ever. Until early in 1876 we lived together in the closest intimacy. We pooled our resources, and when either ran short of money, which often happened, the common purse, if it were not empty, was always available. Similar in height and in figure, our clothes, except our hats, boots and gloves, in each of which I took a larger size than he, were, when occasion required, interchangeable. We standardised our wardrobe as far as we could. We rose together, ate together, retired together, and, except during business hours, were rarely apart. I being, he considered, the more prudent in money matters, kept our lodging accounts and paid the bills. He being more musical, and a greater lover of the drama than I, arranged our visits to the theatres and concert halls. I was the practical, he the æsthetical controller of our joint menage. Once I remember—this occurred before we left Derby—we both fancied ourselves in love with the same dear enchantress, a certain dark-eyed brunette. Each punctually paid his court, as opportunity offered, and each, when he could, most obligingly furthered the suit of the other; and this went on till the time arrived for Tom’s departure to Glasgow, when I was left in possession of the field. Then I discovered, to my surprise, that I was not so deeply enamoured as I had imagined; and, curiously enough, Tom on his part had no sooner settled in Scotland than he made a similar discovery.
The climate of Glasgow never suited Tom’s health and in 1876, on the advice of his doctors, he decided to return to England. For a time he seemed to regain his health, but only for a time. Soon he relapsed, and before another year dawned it became evident, if not to himself, to his friends, that his years on earth were numbered. With what grief I heard the news, which came to me from his parents, I need not say. Bravely for a while he struggled with work, but all in vain; he had to give in, and return to his parents’ home in Lincolnshire. That home he never again left, except once, in the summer of 1877, to visit my wife and me, when he stayed with us for several weeks. Though greatly reduced and very thin, and capable only of short walks he was otherwise unchanged; the lively fancy, the bright humor and the sparkling wit, which made him so delightful a companion, were scarcely diminished. He himself was hopeful; talked of recovery, planned excursions which he and I should take together when his health returned; but his greatest pleasure was in recalling our Derby days, ourMaypolevisits, our country rambles, our occasional dances and flirtations, and our auld acquaintances generally.
Tom was remarkable for the quickness of his observation, for keen penetration of character, and for happy humorous description of particular traits in those he met. He possessed, too, a wonderfully retentive memory. It is largely due to his lively descriptions of our interesting fellow clerks at Derby that I have been able, after the lapse of half a century, to sketch them with the fidelity I have. His humorous accounts of their peculiarities often enlivened the hours we spent together, and impressed their personalities more forcibly on my mind than they otherwise would have been.
When his visit came to an end, and he returned to his home, I too indulged in the hope that he might regain some measure of health, for he seemed much improved. But it was a temporary improvement only, due in part, perhaps, to change in environment, and in part to the exhilaration arising from our reunion, heart and mind for a time dominating the body and stimulating it to an activity which produced this fair but deceptive semblance of health. His letters to me breathed the spirit of hope till almost the last. We never met again. The intention I had cherished of going to see him was never fulfilled. The illness of my wife and the death of one ofour children, and other unfortunate causes, prevented it; and in little more than a year and a half from our farewell grasp of the hand at the railway station in Glasgow my dear and beloved friend breathed his last. Often and often since I have heard again the music of his voice, have seen his face smiling upon me, and have felt
“His being working in mine own,The footsteps of his life in mine.”
“His being working in mine own,The footsteps of his life in mine.”
Ten years I served the Glasgow and South-Western Railway Company as chief clerk, or as Mr. Wainwright euphemistically called it,assistantto the general manager. In that position I met from time to time, not only many prominent railway men, but also other men of mark.
Amongst these, two stand out with great distinction because of the effect they had upon me at a memorable interview I had with each. I never forgot those interviews, and nothing that ever occurred in my life tended to strengthen in me the quality of self-reliance so much as they did. Their effect was sudden, inspiring and lasting. These well-remembered men were Mr. John Burns (afterwards the first Lord Inverclyde), head of the shipping firm of G. and J. Burns, and chairman of the Cunard Line, and Mr. John Walker, General Manager of the North British Railway. The interviews occurred, as nearly as I recollect, during the second or third year of my Glasgow and South-Western life, and took place within a few weeks of each other.
John Burns was one of the largest shareholders in the Glasgow and South-Western Railway, his steamers plied between Greenock and Belfast, and his relations with the company were intimate and friendly. At the time I speak of some important negotiations were proceeding between him and Mr. Wainwright concerning the company and his firm, and whilst they were at their height Mr. Wainwright was unexpectedly summoned to Londonand detained there. Now Mr. Burns was a man who greatly disliked delay, and I was told to see him and, if he wished, discuss the business with him, and, if possible, further its progress. It was the way in which Mr. Burns received me, young and inexperienced as I was, the manner in which he discussed the subject and encouraged me, and the respect with which he listened to my arguments, that surprised and delighted me. I left him, feeling an elation of spirit, a glow of pride, a confidence in myself, as new as it was unexpected. It is a fine trait in Scotchmen that, deeply respecting themselves, they respect others. Difference of class or position does not count much with them in comparison with merit or sterling worth—
“The rank is but the guinea’s stamp,The man’s the gowd for a’ that.”
“The rank is but the guinea’s stamp,The man’s the gowd for a’ that.”
Mr. Burns was a striking personality; strong and vigorous, mentally and physically. He had a good voice, and was clear, decided and emphatic in speech. He was a doughty champion of the Glasgow and South-Western Company, with which at this time, affairs, like the course of true love, did not run smooth. The dividend was down and discontented shareholders were up in arms. Bitter attacks were made on the directors and the management. Not that anything was really wrong, for the business of the line was skilfully and honestly conducted, but the times were bad, and “empty stalls make biting steeds.” The very same shareholders who, when returns are satisfactory, are as gentle as cooing doves, should revenue and expenditure alter their relations to the detriment of dividend, become critical, carping and impossible to please, though the directors and management may be as innocent as themselves, and as powerless to stem the tide of adversity. At shareholders’ meetings Mr. Burns was splendid. He rose after the critics had expended their force, or if the storm grew too violent, intervened at its height, and with facts and figures and sound argument always succeeded in restoring order and serenity. An excellent story of him appeared about this time inGood Words. He, Anthony Trollope and Norman Macleod were once at a little inn in the Highlands. After supper, stories were told and the laughter, which was loud and long, lasted far into the night. In the morning an old gentleman, who slept in a room above them, complainedto the landlord of the uproar which had broken his night’s rest, and expressed his astonishment that such men should have taken more than was good for them. “Well,” replied the landlord, “I am bound to confess there was much loud talk and laughter, but they had nothing stronger than tea and fresh herrings.” “Bless me,” rejoined the old gentleman, “if that is so, what would they be after dinner!”
In the entrance hall of the North British Railway Company’s Waverley station at Edinburgh stands the statue, in bronze, of Mr. John Walker. As far as I know this is, the whole world over, the only instance in which the memory of a railway general manager has been so honoured. It is of heroic size and eloquently attests his worth. He was born in Fifeshire in 1832, and died with startling suddenness from an apoplectic seizure, at the age of fifty-nine, at Waterloo station in London. When he left school he was apprenticed to the law, but at the age of nineteen entered the service of the Edinburgh, Perth and Dundee Railway. This railway was in 1862 amalgamated with the original North British, which was first authorised in 1844, and extended from Edinburgh to Berwick. His exceptional ability was soon recognised and his promotion was rapid. He became treasurer of the amalgamated company, and in 1866 was appointed its secretary. In this office he rendered great service at a trying time in the company’s affairs, and in 1874 was rewarded with the position of general manager.
The North British Railway has had a chequered career, has suffered great changes of fortune, and to Mr. Walker, more than to any other, is due the stability it now enjoys. On the occasion of his death, the directors officially recorded that, “He served the company with such ability and unselfish devotion as is rarely witnessed; became first secretary and subsequently general manager, and it was during the tenure of these offices that the remarkable development of the company’s system was mainly effected.”
His capacity for work was astounding. He never seemed to tire or to know what fatigue meant. Ordinary men are disposed to pleasure as well as to work, to recreation and social intercourse as well as to business, but this was not the case with Mr. Walker. It must be confessed that he was somewhat exacting with his staff, but his own example was a stimulus to exertion in others and he was well served. One who knew him well, and for manyyears was closely associated with him in railway work, tells me that his most striking characteristics were reticence, combativeness, concentration and tenacity of purpose, and that his memory and mastery of detail were remarkable. Deficient perhaps in sentiment, though in such silent men deep wells of feeling often unsuspectedly exist, he was, by those who served under him, always recognised as fair and just, and no one had ever to complain of the slightest discourtesy at his hands. Like Lord Byron, he was lame from birth, and while this may have affected his character and pursuits, it never, I am told, in business, which indeed was practically his sole occupation, impeded his activity. On the failure of the City of Glasgow Bank, in 1878, which involved in ruin numbers of people, he lost a considerable fortune. He was a large shareholder of the bank, and the liability of the shareholders was unlimited. He faced his loss with stoical fortitude, as I believe he would have confronted any disaster that life could bring.
On a certain day Mr. Walker came to Glasgow by appointment to discuss with Mr. Wainwright some outstanding matters which they had failed to settle by correspondence. In the afternoon Mr. Wainwright had an important meeting of his directors to attend. The business with Mr. Walker was concluded in time, all but one subject, and Mr. Wainwright asked Mr. Walker if he would let me go into this with him. Without the least hesitation he consented; and he treated me as Mr. John Burns had done, and discussed the matter with me as if I were on an equal footing. This was the interview that strengthened and confirmed that self-reliance which Mr. Burns had awakened, and which never afterwards forsook me. Great is my debt to Scotland and to Scotchmen.
Amongst the most prominent railway men I have met were Sir Edward Watkin, Chairman of the South-Eastern Railway, and the following general managers:—Mr. Allport, Midland, the exalted railway monarch of my early railway days; Mr. (afterwards Sir) Henry Oakley, Great Northern; Mr. Grierson, Great Western; Mr. Underdown, Manchester, Sheffield and Lincolnshire; and Mr. (afterwards Sir Myles) Fenton, South Eastern. Of Sir Edward Watkin a good story was told. When he was general manager of the Manchester, Sheffield and Lincolnshire Railway (he was Mr. Watkin then) many complaints had arisen from coal merchants on the line that coal was beingstolen from wagons in transit by engine drivers. Nothing so disgraceful could possibly occur, always answered Mr. Watkin. Down the line one day, with his officers at a country station, a driver was seen in the very act of transferring from a coal wagon standing on an outlying siding some good big lumps to his tender. This was pointed out to Mr. Watkin, who only said—“The d---d fool,in broad daylight!” When Mr. Allport learned that I came from Derby, and was the son of an old Midland official, he treated me with marked kindness. Mr. Oakley came in the year 1880 to Glasgow, where he sat for several days as arbitrator between the Glasgow and South-Western and Caledonian Railway Companies, on a matter concerning the management, working, and maintenance of Kilmarnock Station, of which the companies were joint owners, and I learned for the first time how an arbitration case should be conducted, for Mr. Oakley was an expert at such work. This experience stood me in good stead, when, not many years later, I was appointed arbitrator in a railway dispute in the North of Ireland.
In the front rank of the railway service I do not remember many beaux. General managers were men too busy to spend much time upon the study of dress. But there were exceptions, as there are to every rule, and Sir James Thompson, General Manager, and afterwards Chairman of the Caledonian Railway, was a notable exception. Often, after attending Clearing House meetings or Parliamentary Committees, have I met him in Piccadilly, Bond Street, or the Burlington Arcade, faultlessly and fashionably attired in the best taste, airing himself, admiring and admired. We always stopped and talked; of the topics of the day, the weather, what a pleasant place London was, how handsome the women, how well dressed the men. At the Clearing House we usually sat next each other. I liked him and I think he liked me. Do not think he was a beau and nothing more. No, he was a hard-headed Scotchman, full of ability and work, and as a railway manager stood at the top of the ladder. Next to him Sir Frederick Harrison, General Manager of the London and North-Western Railway, was, I think, the best dressed railway man. Both he and Sir James were tall, handsome fellows, and I confess to having admired them, perhaps as much for their good looks and their taste and style, as for their intellectual qualities; and I have often thought that men in high positions would not do amiss to paysome attention to old Polonius’ admonition to his son that, “the apparel oft proclaims the man.”
In the friends I made I was fortunate too. They included two or three budding lawyers, a young engineer, a banker, a doctor, two embryo hotel managers, an auctioneer, and one or two journalists; and, as I have mentioned before, my artist friendCynicus. We were, most of us, friends of each other, met often, and the variety of our pursuits gave zest and interest to our intercourse. First amongst these friends ranked G. G., one of the young lawyers, orwriters, as they are called in Scotland. He was my closest friend. We have not met for many years, but the friendship remains unweakened; for there are things that Time the destroyer is powerless to injure. Like myself, G. G. comes of the middle class. His parents, like mine, were by no means affluent, but they were Scotch and held education in veneration, and were ambitious, as Scottish parents are, for their sons. They gave him a University education, and afterwards apprenticed him to the law. He became, and is still, a prosperous lawyer in Glasgow.
Then came J. B., a young lawyer too, who blossomed into the pleasant and important position of Senior Deputy Town Clerk of the City of Glasgow. He, too, had sprung from the great middle class. Well versed in classical lore he was a delightful companion. He had travelled much and benefited by his travels; was a sociable being, exceedingly good-natured, and peered through spectacles as thick as pebbles, being very short-sighted, and without his glasses would scarcely recognise you a yard off. Yet he could see into the heart of things as well as most men, for he was a shrewd Scotchman, and had a pawky humour. If he possessed a fault it was a love for a game of cards. We playednapin those days, and when a game was on it was hard to get him to bed. He has gone over to the majority now. His sudden death a year ago came as a great blow to his family and a large circle of friends. Next to G. G., as intimate friends, came H. H. and F. K. They were in the company’s service though not in the railway proper, but connected with the management of the hotel department. Of foreign birth, sons of a nation with whom we are now, alas! at war, they were youths of fine education, disposition and refinement, and I became greatly attached to each. H. H. preceded and F. K. followed me to Ireland, where he (F. K.)still resides, honoured and respected, as he deserves to be. He and I, throughout the years, have been and are the closest of friends. Once, not very long ago, in a grave crisis of my life, when death seemed near, he stood by me with the devotion of a brother. My auctioneer friend (G. F.) was, perhaps, the most interesting man of our circle; certainly he possessed more humour than the rest of us put together. Fond of literature, with a talent for writing, he was a regular contributor to the Glasgow Punch,The Bailie. But his greatest charms were, his dear innocence, his freshness of mind, his simple inexpensive tastes, his enjoyment of life, and his infectious laugh. In years he was our senior, but in worldly knowledge junior to us all. He lives still and is, I believe, as jocund as ever. Another of these Glasgow friends I must mention—a poet, and like Burns, a son of the soil. His name was Alexander Anderson. When first I met him he was in the railway service, a labourer on the permanent way, what is called a surfaceman in Scotland, a platelayer in England and a milesman in Ireland. Self taught, he became proficient in French, German and Italian, and was able to enjoy in their own language the literature of those countries. A Scottish nobleman, impressed by his wonderful poetical talent, defrayed the expenses of a tour which he made in Italy and an extended stay in Rome, to the enrichment of his mind and to his great enjoyment. On his return to Scotland he published a book of poems. In an introduction to this book the Revd. George Gilfillan wrote, “The volume he now presents to the world is distinguished by great variety of subject and modes of treatment. It has a number of sweet Scottish verses, plaintive or pawky. It has some strains of a higher mood, reminding us of Keats in their imagination. But the highest effort, if not also the most decided success, is his series of sonnets, entitled, ‘In Rome.’ And certainly this is a remarkable series.” A remarkable man he was indeed; simple and earnest in manner, with a fine eye, a full dark beard and sunburnt face. Tiring, however, of a labourer’s life and of the pick and shovel, he left the railway and became assistant librarian of Edinburgh University, and three years afterwards Secretary to the Philosophical Institution of Edinburgh. He afterwards became Chief Librarian to the Edinburgh University. He died in the summer of 1909. He stayed with me in Glasgow once for a week-end, and on the Sunday afternoon wetogether visited a friend of his who lived near, a literary man, who then was engaged in writing a series of lives of the Poets for some publishing house. An interesting part of our conversation was about Carlyle with whom this friend was intimate, had in fact just returned from visiting him at Chelsea. He told us many interesting stories of the sage. I remember one. He was staying with the Carlyles, when Mrs. Carlyle was alive. One evening at tea, a copper kettle, with hot water, stood on the hob. Mrs. Carlyle made a movement as if to rise, with her eye directed to the kettle; the friend, divining her wish, rose and handed her the kettle. She thanked him, and, with a pathetic and wistful gaze at Carlyle, added, “Ay, Tam, ye never did the like o’ that!”
My first trip abroad was in 1883, and my companion, G. G. We went to Paris via Newhaven, Dieppe and Rouen, and at Rouen stayed a day and a night, and spent about a fortnight in Paris. We were accompanied from London by a friend I have not yet named, one who was well known in the railway world, Tony Visinet, the British Engineering and Commercial Agent of the Western Railway of France; a delightful companion always, full of the charm and vivacity that belong to his country. He took us to see his mother at Rouen, who lived in an old-fashioned house retired from the road, in a pleasant court-yard; a charming old lady, with whom G. G. was able to converse, but I was not. Tony Visinet’s life was full of movement and variety. He had lodgings in London, and a flat in Paris, traversed the Channel continually, and I remember his proudly celebrating his fifteen hundredth crossing.
From childhood I had longed to see something of the world, and this excursion to Paris was the first gratification of that wish. Paris now is as familiar to me almost as London, but then was strange and new. Rouen and its cathedral we first saw by moonlight, a beautiful and impressive sight, idealised to me by the thought that we were in sunny France. Little I imagined then how much of the world in later years I should see; but strong desires often accomplish their own fulfilment, and so it came to pass.
Of course it was right that Parliament, when conferring upon the railway companies certain privileges, such as the compulsory acquisition of land and property, should, in the public interest, impose restrictions on their charging powers. No one could reasonably complain of this, and had it been done from the beginning in a clear, logical way, and in language free from doubt, all might have been well and much subsequent trouble avoided. But this was not the case. Each company’s charging powers were contained in its own private Acts (which were usually very numerous) and differed for different sections of the railway. It was often impossible for the public to ascertain the rights of the companies, and well nigh impossible for the companies themselves to know what they were. These powers were in the form of tolls for the use of the railway; charges for the use of carriages, wagons, and locomotive power, and total maximum charges which were less than the sum of the several charges. In the Acts no mention was made of terminals, though in some of them power to make a charge forservices incidental to conveyancewas authorised, and what these words really meant was the subject of much legal argument and great forensic expenditure.
In addition to the tolls and charges, the Acts usually contained a rough classification of goods to which they applied. These were divided into from three to five classes, and comprised some 50 to 60 articles. The railway companies, however, had in existence, for practical everyday use, a generalclassification called The Railway Clearing House Classification, and this contained over 2,700 articles divided into seven classes.
The tolls and charges in the Companies’ Acts were fixed originally in the old belief (to which I have before alluded) that railway companies, like canal companies, would be mere owners of the route; and when they became carriers and provided stations, sidings, warehouses, cranes, and all the paraphernalia appertaining to the business of a carrier, the old form was not altered, the charging powers remained as originally expressed in subsequent Acts, and the same old model was followed. For several years prior to 1881 complaints by merchants, traders and public bodies against railway rates and fares had become very common. The cry was taken up by the public generally, and railway companies had a decidedly unpleasant time of it, which they bore with that good temper and equanimity which I (perhaps not altogether an unprejudiced witness) venture to affirm generally characterised them. The complaints increased in number and intensity and Members of Parliament and newspaper writers joined in the jeremiad.
Parliament, as Parliaments do, yielded to clamour, and in 1881 a Select Committee was appointed by the House of Commons to inquire into railway charges, into the laws and conditions affecting such charges, and specially into passenger fares. It was a big committee, consisted of 23 members, took 858 pages of evidence, and examined 80 witnesses. At the end of the session they reported that, although they had sat continuously, time had failed for consideration of the evidence, and recommended that the committee be re-appointed in the next session. This was done, and the committee, enlarged to 27 members, took further evidence, and submitted a report to Parliament.
The gravest issue was the right of the companies to charge terminals, and the committee found that the railways had made out their case, and recommended that the right of the companies to station terminals should be recognised by Parliament. Further, the committee, on the whole of the evidence, acquitted the railway companies of any grave dereliction of their duty to the public, and added: “It is remarkable that no witnesses have appeared to complain of ‘preferences’ given to individuals by railwaycompanies as acts of private favour or partiality.” As to passenger fares, the committee reported that the complaints submitted to them were rather local than general, and not of an important character, but thought that it might be well for the Railway Commissioners to have the same jurisdiction in respect to passengers as to goods traffic.
The railway companies thus emerged from this searching inquiry with credit, as they have done in the many investigations to which they have been subjected, and no high-minded and aspiring young railway novice need ever blush for the traditions of the service.
Before the committee Mr. James Grierson, General Manager of the Great Western, was the principal witness for the railway companies, and yeoman service he rendered. He presented the railway case with great ability, and his views were accepted on the important terminal question. In 1886 he published a book onRailway Rates, which was warmly welcomed by the Press and, in the words ofHerepath’s Journal, was “an exhaustive, able, and dispassionaterésuméof all the conflicting statements, claims, and interests verging round the much vexed question of railway rates.” Certainly he did much towards the ultimate settlement of the matter. Mr. Grierson was, perhaps, the ablest witness before Parliamentary Committees the railway service ever had, which is saying much. A leading counsel, during the luncheon interval, once said to him, “We feel small when we are cross-examining you. You know all about the business, and we can only touch the fringe of it.” The great secret of Mr. Grierson’s success was his mastery of, and scrupulous regard for, facts and his straightforwardness. Of his book he himself said, “My conclusions may be disputed, but no one shall dispute the facts on which they are based.”
The committee recommended that Parliament, when authorising new lines, or extending the powers of existing companies, should have its attention drawn by some public authority to the proposed, and in the case of existing companies, to the existing rates and fares. They also recommended that one uniform classification of merchandise be established by law; that the Court of Railway Commissioners be made permanent; and that the amalgamation of Irish Railways be promoted and facilitated. Thus the great inquiry ended; but public agitation did not cease. One or two attemptsat legislation followed, but from one cause or another, fell through; and it was not until 1888 that the subject was seriously tackled by Parliament. In that year theRailway and Canal Traffic Act, of which I shall later on have something to say, was passed.
On the appearance of the Report in 1882, it was recognised in railway circles that somethingmusthappen regarding the eternal rates question, and the companies began to prepare themselves as best they could. It fell upon me to examine the many Acts of Parliament of the Glasgow and South-Western Railway, to collate the provisions relating to tolls, charges and maximum powers, to compare those powers with actual rates, to work out cost of terminal service, and to draw up a revised proposed scale of maximum conveyance rates and terminal charges. Deeply interesting work it was, and led, not very many years afterwards, to unexpected promotion, which I valued much, and about which I shall have more to say.
In the year 1880 a Scotch branch of the Railway Benevolent Institution was established. Mr. Wainwright was made its chairman, and I was appointed secretary. He and I had for some time urged upon the Board in London the desirability of a local committee of management in Scotland. The Institution had a great membership in England, and was generously helped there in the matter of funds by the public. The subscription payable by members was small, and the benefits it bestowed were substantial; but railway men in Scotland looked at it askance: “the Board in London kenned little aboot Scotland and Scotch claims wouldna get vera much conseederation.” Well, all this was changed by what we did. Soon a numerous membership succeeded to the few who on Scottish railways had previously joined the Institution, and we had much satisfaction in finding that we were able to dispense substantial aid to many old and needy railwaymen and to their widows and orphans. Mr. Wainwright remained Chairman of the Branch till his death, and I continued Secretary until I left Scotland.
In 1883, after my return from Paris, I grew restless again, with a longing for more responsibility and a larger and freer life; with, perhaps, an admixture of something not so ennobling—the desire for a bigger income. Never was I indifferent to the comforts that money can bring, though never,I must confess, was I gifted with the capacity for money making or money saving. The pleasures of life (the rational pleasures I hope) had always an attraction for me. I could never forego them, or forego the expense they involved, for the sake of future distant advantages. What weighed with me, too, was the fact that I was undoubtedly overworked and my health was suffering. It was not that my railway duties proper were oppressive, but the duties as Secretary of the Railway Benevolent Institution in Scotland added considerably to my office hours, and at home I often worked far into the night writing for the several papers to which I contributed. Too much work and too little play was making Jack a very dull boy. I envied those officers, such as John Mathieson, whose duties took them often out of doors, and gave them the control and management of men.
My chief was as kind and considerate as ever, and I confided to him the thoughts that disturbed me. Warm-heartedly he sympathised with my feelings. He himself had gone, he said, through the same experience some twenty years before. The prospect of promotion at St. Enoch, he agreed, seemed remote; the principal officers, except the engineer, were young or middle-aged; and he himself was in the prime of life. He did not want to lose me, but I must look out, and he would look out too. At last the opportunity came, and it came from Ireland. The Belfast and County Down Railway Chairman, Mr. R. W. Kelly, and a director, Lord (then Mr.) Pirrie, were deputed to see half a dozen or so likely young applicants in England and Scotland. I was interviewed by these gentlemen in Glasgow, was selected for the vacant post of general manager, and in May, 1885, removed with my family to Belfast, and entered upon my duties there.
Lord Pirrie is a great shipbuilder of world-wide fame. I was not long at the County Down before I discovered his wonderful energy, his marvellous capacity for work, his thoroughness, and keen business ability. I always thought that at our interview at Saint Enoch he was as much impressed with the order and method which appeared in the office of which I had charge as by anything else. I showed him everything very freely, and remember his appreciation and also his criticism, of which latter, as I afterwards found, he was at times by no means sparing, but if sometimes severe, it was always just and salutary. How little one foresees events. Not long had I leftGlasgow before unexpected changes occurred. In 1886, Mr. Wainwright took ill and died; soon after Mathieson went to Queensland; and in less than eight short years three general managers had succeeded Mr. Wainwright.
They were good to me when I left Glasgow. I was presented with a valuable testimonial at a banquet at which Mr. Wainwright presided and at which my good friend, G. G., made a fine speech. It would be idle for me to say that the warm congratulations of my friends, the prospects of change, and the sense of new responsibilities, did not delight and excite me. But a strong measure of regret was mixed with the pleasurable draught. I was greatly attached to my chief, and keenly felt the parting from him. He felt it too. When it came to the last handshake words failed us both.
The Nestor of the Glasgow and South-Western Railway was Andrew Galloway, the chief engineer. A Nestor he looked with his fine, strong, grave features, abundant hair, and flowing beard. He was a very able engineer, but had many old-fashioned ways, one of which was an objection to anyone but himself opening his letters, and when absent from his office they would at times lie for several days untouched. If remonstrated with he was quite unmoved. He had a theory that most letters, if left long enough unanswered, answered themselves. In me he always showed a fatherly interest, and sometimes chided me for talking too freely and writing too much. His last words when he bade me farewell, and gave me his blessing were, to remember always to think twice before I spoke once. On the very day I was assured of my appointment as general manager for the County Down Railway I discarded the tall silk hat and the black morning coat, which for some time had been my usual business garb, as it was of many serious-minded aspiring young business men in Glasgow. Mr. Galloway asked me the reason of the change, which he was quick to observe. “Well,” said I, “I have secured my position, so it’s all right now.” Never since, except in London, have I renounced the liberty I then assumed; the bowler and the jacket suit became my regular business wear, and the other habiliments of severe respectability were relegated to churchgoing, weddings, christenings, and funerals and other formal occasions.
In Chapter IX., at the outset of my Glasgow and South-Western service, I reviewed the public Acts of Parliament passed since the beginning of railways down to the year 1875, and it may not be amiss to notice now the further railway legislation enacted up to 1885.
The first measure of importance was theRailway Returns (Continuous Brakes) Act, 1878. The travelling public had for some years been sensitive regarding railway accidents which, though infrequent, nevertheless occurred much oftener then than now, and were more serious in their results. The matter of their reduction began to receive the serious attention of railway engineers and inventors, and among many appliances suggested was the system of continuous brakes. In June, 1875, a great contest of brakes, extending over three days, in which trains of the principal companies engaged, took place on the Midland railway between Newark and Bleasby. A large number of brakes competed—the Westinghouse, the Vacuum, Clarke’s Hydraulic, Webb’s Chain, and several others. It is recorded that at the conclusion of the trial, each patentee left therefreshment tentsatisfied that his own brake was the best; but Time is the great arbiter, andhisdecision has been in favour of two—the Automatic Vacuum and the Westinghouse, and these are the brakes the companies have adopted. The Act required all railway companies to submit to the Board of Trade, twice in every year, returns showing the amount of rolling stock fitted withcontinuous brakes, the description of brake and whether self-acting and instantaneous in action. So far there was no compulsion upon the railways to use continuous brakes, though most of the companies were earnestly studying the subject, but the rival claims of inventors and the uncertainty as to which invention would best stand the test of time tended to retard their adoption. Meanwhile, the publicity afforded by the Board of Trade Returns, and public discussion, helped to hasten events and the climax was reached in 1889, when a terrible accident, due primarily to inefficient brake power, occurred in Ireland, and was attended with great loss of life. The Board of Trade was in that year invested with statutory power tocompelrailway companies, within a given time, to provide all passenger trains with automatic continuous brakes.
In 1878 there was also passed theContagious Diseases (Animals) Act. Foot and mouth disease had for some time been rife in Great Britain and Ireland, and legislation became necessary. The Act applied not only to railways but was also directed to the general control and supervision of flocks and herds. It contained a number of clauses concerning transit by rail, and invested the Privy Council with authority to make regulations, the carrying out of which, as affecting the Glasgow and South-Western Railway, devolved upon me, and for a year or two occupied much of my time.
An Act to extend and regulate the liability of employers, and to provide for compensation for personal injuries suffered by workmen in their service, came into force in 1880. It was called theEmployers’ Liability Act, and was the first step in that class of legislation, which has since been greatly extended, and with which both employer and employed, are now familiar.
That great convenience theParcel Post, which for the first time secured to the public the advantage of having parcels sent to any part of the United Kingdom at a fixed charge, and which seems now as necessary to modern life as the telephone or the telegraph, and as, perhaps, a few years hence, the airship will be, was brought into existence by thePost Office (Parcels) Act, 1882. Under that Act it was ordained that the railways of the United Kingdom should carry by all trains whatever parcels should be handed to them for transit by the Post Office, the railway remuneration to be fifty-five per cent. of the money paid by the public. The scheme was a greatsuccess. During the first year of its operation the parcels carried numbered over 20 millions, and in the year 1913-14 (the last published figures) reached 137 millions.
TheCheap Trains Act, 1883, was passed to amend and consolidate the law relating to (a) railway passenger duty, and (b) the conveyance of the Queen’s Forces by railway. It did not apply to Ireland. Passenger duty was never exacted in that happy land. In Great Britain the Act relieved the railway companies from payment of the duty on all fares not exceeding one penny per mile; provided for the running of workmen’s trains; and prescribed a scale of reduced fares for the conveyance of Her Majesty’s soldiers and sailors.
After this Act, and until the year 1888, no further general railway legislation of importance took place.
After eighteen years of railway life, at the age of 34, I had attained the coveted position of a general manager. Of a small railway it is true, but the Belfast and County Down Railway, though unimposing as to mileage, was a busy and by no means an uninteresting line. A railway general manager in Ireland was in those days, strange to say, something of arara avis. There were then in the Green Isle no less than eighteen separate and distinct working railways, varying from four to nearly 500 miles in length, and amongst them all only four had ageneral manager. The system that prevailed was curious. With the exception of these four general managers (who were not on the larger lines) the principal officer of an Irish railway was styledManagerorTraffic Manager. He was regarded as the senior official, but over the Traffic Department only had heabsolutecontrol, though other important duties which affected more than his own department often devolved upon him. He was, in a sense, maid of all work, and if a man of ability and character managed, in spite of his somewhat anomalous position, to acquire many of the attributes and much of the influence of a real general manager. But the system was unsatisfactory, led to jealousies, weakened discipline, and was not conducive to efficient working. Happily it no longer exists, and for some years past each Irish Railway has had its responsibleGeneral Manager. Something that happened, in the year 1889, gave the old system the first blow. In that year a terrible accident to a Sunday schoolexcursion of children occurred on the Great Northern Railway near Armagh, and was attended with great loss of life. This led the company to appoint a General Manager, which they did in June, 1890, Thomas Robertson, of the Highland Railway of Scotland, of whom I spoke earlier in these pages, being the capable man they selected.
Curious certainly was the method which up to then prevailed on the Great Northern system. Three differentManagersexercised jurisdiction over separate sections of the line, and theSecretaryof the Company, an able man, stationed in Dublin, performed much more than secretarial duties, and encroached, so I often heard the managers complain, upon their functions. This divided authority was a survival of the time before 1877, when the Great Northern system belonged to several independent companies; and, in the words of the Allport Commission of 1887, “its continued existence after ten years could hardly be defended.”
Very pleasant and very interesting I found my new avocation on the County Down, which for short the Belfast and County Down Railway was usually called. My salary certainly was not magnificent, £500 a year, but it was about £100 more than the whole of the income I earned in Scotland, and now for the £500 I had only my railway work to perform. Now I could give up those newspaper lucubrations, which had become almost a burden and daily enjoy some hours of leisure. The change soon benefited my health. Instead of close confinement to the office during the day, and drudgery indoors with pen and ink at night, my days were varied with out-door as well as in-door work, and I had time for reading, recreation and social enjoyment. My lean and lanky form filled out, and I became familiar with the greeting of my friends: “Why, how well you look!”
The County Down railway was 68 miles long. Situated entirely in County Down, it occupied a snug little corner to itself, bounded on the north by Belfast Lough, on the south by the Mourne Mountains, and on the east by Strangford Lough and the Irish Sea. To the west ran the Great Northern railway but some distance away. The County Down line enjoyed three fine sources of seaside traffic, Bangor, Donaghadee and Newcastle, and was rich in pleasure resorts and in residential districts. It even possessed the attractions of a golf course, the first in Ireland, theKinnegar at Holywood,but more of that anon. As I have said, it was a busy line, and it was not unprosperous. The dividend in 1885 reached five and a-half per cent., and in spite of considerable expenditure necessary for bringing the line up to first-class condition, it never went back, but steadily improved, and for many years has been a comfortable six and a-half per cent. In 1885 the condition of the permanent way, the rolling stock, and the stations was anything but good, and as the traffic showed capacity for development, to stint expenditure would have been but folly. I do not think, however, the outlay would have been so liberal as it was but for Lord (then Mr.) Pirrie, who was an active and influential director, though there were also on the Board several other business men of energy and position. Indeed, it was a good Board, but the Chairman, though a shrewd far-seeing man, had, like John Gilpin’s spouse, “a frugal mind,” and Lord Pirrie’s bold commercial spirit quite eclipsed his cautious ways. One instance will suffice to exemplify this, and also to illustrate the novelty of my new duties, which were delightful in their diversity and activity to one whose life hitherto had been confined to sedentary work.
It was the rolling stock that demanded the most urgent attention—engines, carriages and wagons and especially carriages. Of carriages there were not enough for the traffic of the line, and many were in a very sorry condition, particularly those which had been taken over with the Holywood and Bangor Railway, acquired by the company the previous year. One weekend, soon after I joined the service, I had all passenger carriages brought into Belfast, except those employed in running Sunday trains, and early on the Sunday morning (it was in the summer) with the company’s locomotive and mechanical engineer I examined each carriage thoroughly from top to bottom, inside and out, above and below, and with his practical help and expert knowledge, noted carefully down the defects of each. He worked with a will, delighted that someone as enthusiastic and even younger than himself was now in charge. He little suspected, I am sure, how ignorant I was of practical matters, as I kept my own counsel which was my habit when prudence so dictated. I knew the names of things and was well versed in the theory and statistics of repairs and renewals, but that was all. A fine worker was and is R. G. Miller. Well over 70 now, healthy andenergetic still, he occupies the position he did then. Age has not withered nor custom staled his juvenility. I met him on Kingstown promenade the other day walking with an elastic step and with the brightness of youth in his eye. The ordinary age-retirement limit, though a good rule generally, was not for him. Daylight failed and night came on before our task was finished, several carriages remaining unexamined. These and the Sunday running vehicles we subjected to scrutiny during the following week. At the next meeting of the Board I presented a report of what I had done, and urged that a number of new carriages should be contracted for without delay, enlarging upon the return we might confidently expect from a responsive traffic. The Chairman and most of the Board were a little aghast at what appeared, to a small company that had only recently emerged from straitened circumstances, a very large order. But Lord Pirrie came to the rescue, strongly supported my proposal and commended the thoroughness with which I had tackled the subject. The day was won, the carriages secure, and the order for their construction was placed with a firm in Birmingham. This expenditure was the precursor of further large outlays, for it was soon seen that the prospects of the company warranted a bold course.
I may, I am sure, be pardoned if I quote here some words from the report of Sir James Allport’s Commission on Irish Public Works. It is dated 4th January, 1888. I had then been less than three years with the County Down, and so could claim but a modicum of the praise it contains, and my modesty, therefore, need not be alarmed. The words are: “The history of the Belfast and County Down Company is sufficient to show how greatly both shareholders and the public may benefit from the infusion into the management of business qualities. In that case a board of business men have in ten years raised the dividend on the ordinary stock from nil to 5½ per cent., while giving the public an improved service and reduced rates.” My satisfaction was the greater as I had given evidence before the Commission, and helped to tell them the cheerful story of the progress and development of the County Down Company. It was my first appearance as a railway witness and before Sir James Allport, who had commanded my unbounded admiration from my first entrance at Derby into railway life. Need I say that to me it was an event of importance.
In the year 1875 the Board of the County Down, after an investigation of its affairs by a Committee of Shareholders, was reorganised, and it was then that Mr. Richard Woods Kelly became Chairman, and Lord (then Mr.) Pirrie a Director. The latter has more than once since told me that the County Down shares were one of his best investments.
Mr. Kelly merits more than a passing word. Before I joined the County Down I was told he was a “terror,” and that I ran foolish risk in leaving a service like the Glasgow and South-Western for a position in which I might find it impossible to please. But fears like that never disturbed me. To wrongdoers Mr. Kelly could certainly be “a terror,” and wrongdoers there were, I believe, in the service in the early days of his chairmanship. He was a mild-mannered man, tall, rather pale, with refined features and a low-toned pleasant voice. But beneath this smooth and gentle exterior resided great firmness. He would smile and smile with wonderful imperturbability and, in the quietest tones and the blandest way, say severe and cutting things. Economy was his strong point and he observed it in his public and private life with meritorious consistency. Impervious to cold, as to most other human weaknesses, in winter or summer he never wore an overcoat. His smooth face and tall slight figure seemed as indifferent to the angry elements as bronze or stone. By man or Nature I never saw him ruffled or in the least degree disturbed. But he had his human side, as all men have, and in time I discovered it and grew to like him. He was not at heart so cold as he seemed. Though he could not write a page without mis-spelling some of the words, his letters were always concise and very much to the point. But it was only in spelling he was deficient. He spoke well, was a shrewd judge of men, had a keen sense of humour, a clear perception of facts, and was quick to detect and discard everything irrelevant.
Lord Pirrie and Mr. Kelly, in connection with the County Down, were hand and glove, and it was no small part they played in its transformation from dark and dismal poverty to smiling prosperity.
My assistant was James Pinion, afterwards my successor, and later on Manager of the Cheshire Lines Committee at Liverpool. Being a capable fellow and a hard worker, it was only natural that he felt disappointed at not being made general manager of the County Down instead of importedme; but any sign of soreness soon disappeared. The kindness, the consideration and the confidence I had received at Mr. Wainwright’s hands, as his assistant, were not forgotten and I felt pleasure in endeavouring to treat my assistant in the same way. It was not long before its effect appeared. He told me one day that it was a new experience for him to be so frankly trusted and so freely consulted, but it made him happier and imparted a greater zest to his work. Certainly he served me with enthusiastic zeal and fine loyalty. Throughout a long period of railway management I have been most fortunate in securing the goodwill and ready help of the staff, and in many instances their strong personal attachment. There are men no doubt whose natures are proof against kindness and consideration, but my experience is that they are few and far between. I have found also that if one refrains from fault-finding, gives praise where praise is due, and overlooks small or venial faults, when reproof becomes necessary, if it be temperately administered, it is always effective and productive of good. But even such reproof may be carried too far as on one occasion I found to my dismay. Pinion, one forenoon, came into my room to tell me he had discovered that the man in charge of the cloak room was guilty of peculation; had been tampering with the tickets, and appropriating small sums. I sent for him, talked to him very severely, sent him home, and told him he should hear what would be done. An hour later, I heard he wasdead: that on his way to his home he had purchased a bottle of laudanum and swallowed the contents!
In Scotland a railway manager was rarely worried by outside interference in the management of his men. Well intentioned people either credited him with the possession of good sense and decent feeling, or, themselves resentful of any inter-meddling in their own affairs, refrained from meddling in his. But it was different I found in Ireland, even in Belfast where Scottish traditions and Scottish ways were not unknown. Exceeding good nature, I suppose, is largely accountable for the readiness with which people in the sister isle espouse, often with little consideration, the cause of any railway employee who has or fancies he has a grievance. A rather ridiculous instance of this occurred soon after my installation at the County Down. One of my first duties was to examine the line and the employeesat each station. At one small station I found in charge a station master in poor health and well advanced in years—in fact quite beyond his work. I learned that he possessed a small property in land and was quite willing to retire if given a few weeks in which to make his arrangements. This, of course, I gladly granted as well as a little parting gratuity. He was well pleased, and wrote me to that effect. But, to my astonishment, not many days passed before a long and numerously signed Memorial to the Board arrived beseeching the Directors to stay the hand of their General Manager in his harsh and unfeeling treatment of a faithful old servant. He was indeed a faithful old servant; but he was quite ignorant of any memorial on his behalf having been sent to the Directors. Apparently the memorialists did not consider it necessary to consult him.
To be now my own master, subject only to the control of a reasonable and businesslike Board of Directors, a Chairman who resided in Dublin, visiting Belfast once a fortnight only, to have the command of men and the working of a railway, and to be free to move about the line as I thought fit, was a pleasure indeed and made Ireland a pleasant place. I lived near the city, but on its outskirts, with open country and sea views around me, occupied a neat little detached house, with a bit of garden wherein I could dig and cultivate a few roses, where the air was pure and clear—a refreshing change from the confinement of a flat, four stairs up, in the crowded environs of smoky Glasgow.