CHAPTER CXXV.

THE PROJECTED RAILWAY COMPANY.

It was striking ten by all the clocks at the West End, on the

morning of the day following the incidents which have occupied the

five preceding chapters, when a cab drove with insane speed along a

fashionable street, in that district of the metropolis just alluded to;

and having stopped at the door of the best house in the said street,

out leapt Mr. Bubbleton Styles, with a large roll of papers in his hand.

“I told you that you would not do it by ten o’clock,” said this

gentleman, addressing the reproach, accompanied by an angry look, to

the cab-man.

“Not done it by ten, sir!” exclaimed the astonished and indignant

driver: “vy, it’s on’y jest a-finished strikin’ by every blessed clock

in this here part o’ the town.”

“Just finished striking!” cried Mr. Styles, pulling out his watch:

“it’s a minute and a quarter past ten, I tell you. Here’s your fare.”

“Two bob, all the vay from Crosby Chambers!” growled the man, turning

the money over and over in a discontented fashion in the palm of his

hand: “come, come--that von’t jest do, if _you_ please, sir. You

promised me three bob if I brought you here by ten----”

“And you did not fulfil the bargain,” sharply interrupted Mr.

Styles, as he hurried up the steps of the large house and knocked

at the door, which was immediately opened by a servant in such a

splendid--outrageously splendid livery--that no other indication was

required to distinguish the mansion of a _parvenu_--or, in other words,

a vulgar upstart. “Is Mr. Podgson at home?” demanded Mr. Styles.

“Yes, sir. Walk in, sir. What name, sir?” were the hurried phrases

which came from the domestic’s lips.

“Vell, ain’t ye a-going to pay us the extra bob, you gent?” cried the

cab-man, as he mounted sulkily to his seat and drew a sack round his

knees although it was in the middle of summer--so strong is the force

of habit.

Mr. Styles deigned no reply to this derogatory adjuration; but, having

given his card to the servant, he entered the great man’s great

house--while the cab drove away at a pace which seemed to intimate that

the horse had become as sulky as its master.

The hall was very magnificent: but every thing was new. The

statues--the vases--the marble pillars--the gilding on the doors

that opened into the ground-floor apartments--even to the liveries

of the servants lounging about,--all was new! Mr. Styles was shown

into a small parlour, where the pictures--the mirrors--the mantle

ornaments--the furniture--the carpet--the hangings,--every thing there

was likewise new. The paint scarcely seemed to have dried, nor the

putty in the window-frames to have hardened.

In a few minutes the domestic, who had left Mr. Styles alone during

that interval, returned with the intimation that Mr. Podgson would see

him at once; and the railway projector was forthwith conducted up a

wide and handsome marble stair-case--through a splendidly furnished

ante-room--into a sumptuous apartment, where the great man was seated

at a table covered with railway plans, letters, maps, newspapers,

visitors’ cards, and Acts of Parliament, all scattered about in

a confusion that had been admirably well _studied_ and _purposely

arranged_.

The impression of the _newness_ of every thing in the mansion was

strengthened in the mind of Mr. Bubbleton Styles at every pace which he

had taken from the hall-door into the room where he now found himself.

It appeared as if Mr. Podgson--or Mr. Podgson’s wife--or both, had

endeavoured to the utmost of human power to crowd the apartments, the

stair-cases, the landings, and, in fact, every nook and corner, with as

many evidences of wealth as possible. Fine paintings by old masters,

set in bran new glittering frames, were hung in the very worst lights,

and without the least regard to their relative styles, colouring, or

subjects. Each room had two or three time-pieces in it; and as they

were not in accordance with respect to the hour, Mr. Bubbleton Styles’s

ideas of precision and punctuality received a severe shock when he

heard ten o’clock proclaimed half-a-dozen different times during the

first twenty minutes which elapsed after he first set foot in the

mansion. In a word, the entire aspect of the house was a reflection

of the vulgar, untasteful, and self-sufficient minds of the “stuck-up

people” who, having grown suddenly rich, did not know how to render

their dwelling elegant and comfortable without making it gaudy and

ridiculously ostentatious in its appointments.

Mr. Podgson was a short, stout, thick-set man, with an enormous

stomach, a very wide back, and little stumpy legs. His head seemed to

be stuck on his shoulders without the intervening aid of any neck at

all; and his features were coarsely ugly, and totally inexpressive of

even the slightest spark of intelligence. His tongue appeared to be

much too large for his mouth, his speech being remarkably disagreeable:

indeed, his free utterance seemed to be impeded as if he were always

sucking a large lollipop, or had an enormous quid of tobacco stuck in

his cheek. When he walked, it was with the most ungainly waddle that

can possibly be conceived; and his clothes, though no doubt made by a

fashionable tailor, sate upon him just as if they had been thrown on

with a pitch-fork. Had this man been invested with regal robes,--had he

arrayed himself in the Tyrian purple which Rome’s Emperors were wont to

wear,--he could not have looked otherwise than a low vulgarian,--which

he was!

We shall not pause for a moment to give any account of the rise of Mr.

Podgson from obscurity to that renown which the sudden acquisition

of great wealth established for him. Having sprung from the people,

he turned against the people when he became a rich man. His property

enabled him to _purchase_ a borough; and the instant he found himself

in Parliament, he joined the Protectionists--the bitter enemies of the

popular cause!

Had this man taken his place amongst the Liberals, we should not

have remembered his physical ugliness and his immense vulgarity of

manners: we should have admired and esteemed him. But _he_ to associate

with aristocrats,--to squeeze that squat, podgy form amongst the

“exquisites” and the “exclusives” of the West End,--to affect the most

refined notions, and ape every thing fashionable,--for _him_ to do all

this----Oh! it is really too ridiculous--too ludicrous--too absurd to

permit us to keep our countenance when we think of it!

Persons cannot help being naturally vulgar, any more than they can

help being ugly: but the vulgar should not thrust themselves into

those scenes and spheres where they are certain to stand out in most

ignoble prominency, thereby forcing on all beholders the effect of

the ludicrous contrast;--neither should the ugly adopt such an awful

swagger and assume an air of such insufferable self-complacency as to

render themselves most disagreeably remarkable and conspicuous.

Mr. Podgson had acquired his immense wealth by railway speculations;

and the disgusting sycophants who invariably attach themselves to rich

men with weak minds, had nonsensically dubbed him the _Railway Lion_!

Had they called him the _Railway Elephant_, in allusion to his unwieldy

proportions--or the _Railway Bear_, in reference to his manners--or the

_Railway Donkey_, in respect to his intelligence,--they would have been

more faithful to truth. But the _Railway Lion_ he was;--and it was now

in the presence of this tremendous animal that Mr. Bubbleton Styles

stood.

Without rising from his chair, Mr. Podgson, M.P., waved his hand with

all the majesty of a stage-monarch; and as this gesticulation was

intended to be a fashionable--no, a dignified mode of desiring Mr.

Bubbleton Styles to be seated, Mr. Bubbleton Styles seated himself

accordingly.

Mr. Podgson then stared very hard at his visitor; and this was the

Railway Lion’s method of intimating that he was “all attention.”

“I believe, sir,” said Mr. Styles, in a very polite and courteous

manner--but without any thing like cringing servility,--“I believe,

sir, that you last night received a letter from Alderman Tripes----”

“Oh! ah!” exclaimed Mr. Podgson, in his thick voice: “I remember! My

very particular and intimate friend, Mr. Alderman Tripes, assures me in

his communication that you have a famous project on the tappy----”

Mr. Podgson meant _tapis_--but could not precisely achieve the correct

pronunciation.

“And that project I shall have much pleasure in submitting to you,

sir,” added Mr. Styles, proceeding to unfold the large roll of papers

which he had brought with him.

“Well--I don’t mind--that is, to obleege you, I’ll just look over

them,” said Mr. Podgson, in an indifferent--careless way. “But,” he

added, glancing at the elegant watch which he drew with affected

negligence from his waistcoat pocket, “I’ve got an appointment at a

quarter to eleven--and I must be punctual to the rendy-woo.”

Mr. Styles assured the great man that he would not detain him a moment

beyond the time named for the _rendez-vous_; and, spreading his plans

and maps upon the table, the small speculator began to explain his

objects and views to the large capitalist.

“Who’s the engineer?” enquired the latter: then, looking at the corner

of the plan, and perceiving the name, he cried, “Oh! Dummerley--eh?

Well--he’s a good man--a very good man! I was talking to Lord Noodleton

the other day about him--Lord Noodleton and me are intimate friends,

you know--very intimate----”

“His lordship has reason to be proud of your friendship, sir,” observed

Mr. Styles, adroitly availing himself of the opportunity to pay a

compliment.

“Hem! well--Noodleton _does_ seem grateful,” said, the Railway Lion,

glancing complacently at one of his boots. “But, about this spec of

yours, Mr. Styles? Shall you have a good list of Provisional Committee?”

“First-rate, sir--especially if you will condescend to head it,”

returned the small speculator with a bow to the great one.

“Well--we shall see!” exclaimed Mr. Podgson. “But first as to the

probability of success? Let me just make a calculation or two--nothing

is done without calculations; and I’m rayther quick at figures. Now,

your capital is £8,000,000 in 400,000 shares. Good! Deposit, £2 2_s._

per share. Good again! But about the expenses and receipts--the outlay

and the incomings, on which we may reckon with certainty? Let me

see--twice two’s four--and twice four’s eight--and nine times nine’s

eighty one--and eleven times eleven’s a hundred and twenty one--that

gives us five hundred thousand there--then there’s two hundred thousand

here----Well!” cried the great man, suddenly interrupting himself in

the midst of calculations which, though they were as unintelligible as

the Chinese language to Mr. Styles, it is to be hoped were a trifle

more comprehensive to the gentleman who was making them in a musing,

half-whispering tone, and counting mysteriously on his fingers at the

same time:--“well!” he cried, suddenly desisting from the arithmetical

process with the satisfied air of a man who had arrived at a conviction

by means of the most subtle considerations,--“well, I _do_ think it

will succeed, Mr. Styles--and I----I----”

“Will condescend to become our Chairman, Mr. Podgson?” said the

other, finishing the sentence which the Railway Lion’s extreme

modesty and sensitive bashfulness had left thus incomplete. “I am

well aware, sir,--and the public are well aware likewise--that you

have entered into the grand affairs of the Railway World with no

interested motive,--that you never took a single share with the idea

of making it a means of gain! No--sir--your views have been wholly

and solely to benefit your fellow countrymen. Indeed, you yourself

have proclaimed as much in your place in the House of Commons--and the

civilised world echoes with the mighty truth! You are a benefactor,

sir--a philanthropist--a patriot; and no sordid ideas ever influenced

you! It is upon this ground, and on this ground only,--without even

venturing to hint that there will be five thousand shares reserved for

the Chairman and Provisional Committee-men, and that they are certain

to rise to a high premium the moment they are issued,--without daring

to mention such a thing in _your_ presence, sir--but relying solely

on your known readiness to countenance every fair--legitimate--and

honourable undertaking which promises to benefit our fellow-men

and produce fifty per cent. profits,--’tis upon these grounds, Mr.

Podgson, that I solicit you to become the Chairman of the Grand British

Longitudinal Railway!”

Mr. Styles narrowly watched the effect which this magniloquent oration

produced upon the Railway Lion; and as he beheld the fat, ignoble,

vulgar countenance of that stupendous animal slowly expanding with

satisfaction, he knew that he was as sure of nailing Mr. Podgson for a

Chairman, as he was sure of seeing Captain O’Blunderbuss and Mr. Frank

Curtis in the afternoon at three o’clock to partake of chops and sherry

at Crosby Hall Chambers.

Nor was Mr. Bubbleton Styles mistaken. In as dignified a manner as

it was in his nature to assume, and in as good English as it was in

his power to employ, the great Mr. Podgson gave his assent to the

proposition; and Mr. Styles was already in the midst of a set speech of

thanks, when a pompous-looking livery-servant entered the room.

“Well, Thomas--what now?” demanded Mr. Podgson.

“Please, sir,” answered the domestic, whose countenance denoted

offended dignity and wounded pride, “there’s a troublesome gentleman

down below who says he must and will have a hinterview with you,

sir----”

“Must and will!” ejaculated the Railway Lion, sinking back in his chair

with an amazement which could not have been greater had some one rushed

in to tell him that the Chinese had invaded England and made a Mandarin

Lord Mayor of London.

“Yes, sir--must and will!” groaned the horrified domestic.

“Well--I never heard such impudence in my life!” exclaimed Mr.

Bubbleton Styles, affecting the deepest indignation--a little piece of

hypocrisy which completely won the Railway Lion’s heart.

“And does this _person_--for you was wrong to call him a

_gentleman_, John,” said Mr. Podgson, somewhat recovering from

his stupefaction,--“does this _person_, who _must_ and _will_ see

_me_--_me_, John--_me_, Mr. Styles,--does this _person_, I say, give

his name or business?”

“Please, sir, he gave me his card,” returned the flunkey; “and here it

be.”

The high and mighty Railway Lion took the pasteboard between the tips

of his thumb and fore-finger; and having glanced at it, he tossed it

with sublime scorn into a waste-paper basket, exclaiming in his rough,

disagreeable voice, “Mr. Clarence Villiers--eh? Well--I suppose I’d

better see him. Don’t move, Mr. Styles: you shall just see how I’ll

serve the insolent fellow that _must_ and _will_ have an interview with

ME!”

The domestic retreated without turning his back upon his master,--or,

in other words, stepped backwards to the door, as if he were quitting

the presence of Royalty; and Mr. Styles again vented his well-affected

indignation and surprise that “people should be so bold and

inconsiderate as to obtrude themselves into the presence of Mr. Podgson

in such a manner.”

“Bold and inconsiderate!” repeated the Railway Lion. “It is owdacious

and intolerable.”

“Shameful!” cried Mr. Styles.

“Perfectly insupportable!” vociferated Mr. Podgson.

“Monstrous in the extreme!” exclaimed Mr. Bubbleton Styles, actually

working himself up into a passion.

“But I’ll put a stop to it!” continued the Railway Lion, dealing a

tremendous blow with his clenched fist upon the table: “I’ll bring in

a Bill next Session, Mr. Styles, to protect public men from insolent

intrusion!”

“It will serve the scoundrels quite right, my dear sir,” responded the

small speculator, approvingly.

“By Gad! I’ll pay the reskels off for it!” exclaimed the mighty man,

who could command hundreds of thousands of pounds, but not the minutest

fraction of his temper.

The door now opened again; and the pompous domestic, whose countenance

was expressive of deep indignation, ushered in the reader’s old

friend--Mr. Clarence Villiers,--now a fine, handsome man, in the prime

of life.

“Well, sir--and what do _you_ want?” demanded Mr. Podgson, with all the

overbearing insolence of a contemptible _parvenu_.

“In the first place, sir,” replied Clarence, speaking in a firm but

gentlemanly tone, and glancing towards the servant who lingered near

the door, “I must take the liberty of advising you to recommend your

lacquey, to treat at least with respect, if not with courtesy, those

persons whom business may bring to your house; for I can assure you

that it required no ordinary forbearance on my part to restrain my hand

from laying this cane across his shoulders.”

“What, sir--you dare, sir----” stammered Mr. Podgson, his vast, ignoble

countenance becoming the colour of scarlet.

“I dare chastise any one who is insolent to me, be he who or what he

may, sir,” answered Villiers, in a very significant way, and in so

determined a tone, too, that the pompous domestic evaporated and the

Railway Lion was struck speechless with amazement--for he felt as if

he were literally bearded in his den! “Being myself a gentleman by

birth and education, and I hope in manners and conduct, I am accustomed

to treat my equals with courtesy and my inferiors with kindness; and

I will tolerate insult from neither. But enough of that subject,

Mr. Podgson,” continued Villiers: “the object of my visit is soon

explained. For many years I have enjoyed a confidential situation in

the service of the Earl of Ellingham----”

“Oh! I really beg your pardon, Mr. Villiers!” exclaimed the Railway

Lion, with a start as if the piles of a voltaic battery had suddenly

been applied to his unwieldy carcase. “I wasn’t aware that you knew

Lord Ellingham--or else----But pray take a chair, Mr. Villiers.”

“Thank you, sir--I would rather stand,” answered Clarence, in a

cold--almost contemptuous tone; for he saw full well that this sudden

politeness was not paid to _himself_, but to his connexion with

aristocracy. “Yesterday afternoon, Mr. Podgson, I returned from the

country by the Western Provinces Railway; and I was most anxious to

reach London at the usual hour for the arrival of that particular

train, inasmuch as the business which I had in hand for my noble

employer was urgent and pressing. Conceive, then, my annoyance when the

train stopped for three quarters of an hour at a midway station--and

without any substantial reason. I remonstrated with the persons on duty

at that station: I even alighted, and saw the clerk. Several other

gentlemen, whose time was likewise precious, joined me in my endeavours

to prevent farther delay,--but all in vain! And the excuse was--_that

the train had to wait for a basket of fruit, for Mrs. Podgson, the lady

of the Chairman of the Company_! Now, sir, with all possible respect

for the fair sex, I submit to you that it is too bad----”

“And pray,sir,” interrupted the mighty Railway Lion, flying into a

furious passion, “why should _not_ my wife receive her fruit in time?

By Gad! sir--the train should have waited an hour for it, had it been

necessary; and it would have been as much as the situations of the

guard and engineer were worth to have continued the journey without

that basket!”

“Then you mean me to understand, sir,” said Villiers, in a calm

and gentlemanly tone which contrasted strongly with the insolent,

overbearing manner of the purse-proud vulgarian-upstart,--“you mean me

to understand that you approve of the conduct of your underlings in

delaying a train containing upwards of a hundred persons, to most of

whom time was precious, for the sake of a basket of fruit!”

“_Approve_ of it!” cried the Railway Lion, astonished that any doubt

should exist upon the point: “why--I _ordered_ it! sir!”

“Then all I can say in comment upon such improper conduct is--that

if the Government and the Legislature have permitted Companies to

grasp these tremendous monopolies in order to use them as instruments

of private convenience, without the slightest regard to the time or

feelings of the public,--then, I for one,” continued Clarence Villiers

emphatically, “protest against so atrocious a despotism; and I begin to

be ashamed of my own country, when I find it becoming the scene of a

petty tyranny that would raise an outcry even in Russia or Austria.”

“Oh! ho! the shoe pinches there--does it,” cried Mr. Podgson, in the

vulgar triumph effected by wealth over the popular interests. “I tell

you what, sir--and I shall not attempt to disguise the matter:--we

_monopolists_, as you call us, have got the railways in our own

hands--and we mean to keep ’em--aye, and to do with ’em just as we

like! Do you know how many hundred miles of railway I’ve got under my

control? Ask the first person you happen to meet--and you’ll be sure to

find out. Well--do you think I won’t use my rights and privileges,--I

may almost say _prerogatives_--eh, Mr. Styles?”

“Oh! decidedly, my dear sir,” exclaimed that gentleman, approvingly.

“Well,” resumed the Railway Lion,--“do you think I won’t use my

prerogatives as I choose and fancy? If Mrs. Podgson wants even so

trifling a thing as a new-laid egg from any particular station, the

train shall wait for it. Talk to me about people’s time--what the devil

do I care for it? People must put up with things as they find ’em. They

can’t help themselves: we’ve knocked all the coaches off the roads--and

you have no alternative but to go with us. But perhaps, when a train is

late at starting, or when it is kept as it was yesterday, some of you

knowing gentlemen will be after taking a post-chaise at the Company’s

expense? I’d just advise you to do it! You’d have to sue us for the

amount--and we’d ruin you in return. To recover five guineas you should

have to pay as many hundreds in law costs. Why, sir--it is perfect

madness to think of fighting great Public Companies;--and we’ll let the

people know it too.”

Having arrived at this liberal and enlightened determination, the

Railway Lion ceased through sheer exhaustion,--the volubility of

passionate declamation not suiting his guttural voice.

“Although, sir, I obtain at your hands no satisfaction for the infamous

delay to which the train was subjected yesterday,” said Mr. Villiers,

who had listened with calm and gentlemanly attention to the furious

mouthings of the upstart,--“I am nevertheless pleased that I should

have taken the trouble to call upon you in reference to the matter. I

have learnt a lesson which I had not expected. I find that the sudden

acquisition of wealth is calculated to set a man who rises _from_ the

People, _against_ the People; and that monopoly is a more tremendous

engine of oppression in the hands of narrow-minded and self-sufficient

persons than even its greatest haters could have conceived. I do not

envy you your riches, sir--nor your sovereign sway over many miles of

railroad--no, nor even the title with which a fulsome and contemptible

flattery has invested you:--for the poorest mechanic who does his duty

towards his fellow-creatures, is a worthier and more estimable being

than you.”

With these words--uttered not savagely, but in a tone of firm and

measured reproach--Clarence Villiers retired from the presence of the

Railway Lion, who appeared for the moment to have had “a calf’s skin”

thrown about “his recreant limbs,” so astounded and amazed was he at

the language which his visitor had _dared_ to address to him.

[Illustration]

“This is the most atrocious proceeding I ever knew in the whole course

of my life!” at length exclaimed Mr. Bubbleton Styles, who in reality

had been much amused by the scene.

“I suppose that the riff-raff--as I always call the People--will be

telling us next that railways are public property!” cried Mr. Podgson:

“but we’ll show ’em the difference--eh, Mr. Styles?--won’t we, Mr.

Styles?”

And the Railway Lion condescendingly thrust his fingers in a jocular

way into the small speculator’s ribs;--and then the great man and the

little man had a hearty laugh together--that of the former being in

the boisterous “ho! ho! ho!” style, and that of the latter in the more

respectful and submissive “he! he! he!” fashion.

Having got upon this very comfortable and pleasant understanding

together, Mr. Podgson and Mr. Styles chatted for about a quarter of

an hour respecting the new railway scheme: and the latter took his

departure, highly delighted with the reception he had experienced and

the success of his visit.

Punctually as the clock struck three that afternoon, did Captain

O’Blunderbuss and Mr. Curtis present themselves at the office in Crosby

Hall Chambers; and as the third stroke was proclaimed by the churches

in the neighbourhood, they entered the speculator’s private room, where

that gentleman was seated at the table with his watch in his hand.

“Good!” exclaimed Mr. Styles, returning the watch to his pocket: “this

is business-like--and I am well pleased. The chops, you perceive, are

smoking hot--the sherry, I know, is first-rate.”

Thus speaking, he did the honours of the table and the two guests did

honour to the meal. The chops speedily disappeared--so did a bottle of

wine; and a second was already opened before a word had been uttered on

business matters.

“Now, gentlemen,” at length cried Mr. Styles; “I will give you a toast.

Here’s the health of our Chairman--the Railway Lion!”

“No! you don’t mean to say----” ejaculated Mr. Curtis.

“Hould your tongue, Frank--and let Misther Sthyles say whatever he

chooses!” exclaimed the captain. “Dhrink the toast, man--and that’s all

about it!”

“I can assure you, gentlemen,” continued the promoter of the new

concern, “that I have fulfilled the promise which I made you yesterday.

Podgson is ours!”

“Hooray!” vociferated Frank Curtis.

“Hur-rah-ah!” thundered Captain O’Blunderbuss.

“It is indeed a subject for gratulation,” said Mr. Styles, “The next

point I wish to speak to you about is the prospectus, a proof of

which I have received from the printer. It would have been all ready

for issue by this time, only my interview with the Railway Lion was

prolonged far beyond the hour at which I had expected to be back in the

City again;--and you may be sure that I was in no hurry when engaged

with _him_,” added Mr. Bubbleton Styles, smiling significantly. “Here,

you see,” he continued, displaying the proof of the flaming prospectus

which he had drawn up,--“here is the glorious document. It is

sufficient to set the very Thames on fire. Never were such magnificent

promises--never such brilliant hopes held out! And look--thirty-two

names of the most eminent Aldermen, merchants, Common Councilmen, and

gentlemen----”

“Why--half of them have got F.R.S. to the end of their names!”

ejaculated Frank Curtis: “what the deuce does that mean? And, by Jove!”

he cried, now completely beside himself with astonishment,--“this is

strange! Here’s the ‘_Secretary, Francis Curtis, Esq., F.R.S., M.A.,

M.S.L.S., &c. &c._’ My dear friend Styles----”

“Patience--patience, Frank,” said that gentleman, with bland

complacency. “Those initials stand for various honorary distinctions

which give respectability to the name. For instance, you are

represented as being a _Fellow of the Royal Society_, a _Master of

Arts_, and a _Member of Several Learned Societies_. God bless you, my

dear fellow! even the very _et ceteras_ have their weight in a Railway

Prospectus.”

“But I am nothing of all that you describe!” ejaculated Frank Curtis,

surveying Mr. Styles with an expression of amazement that was quite

ludicrous.

“I am well aware of that,” answered the City gentleman, coolly:

“neither are half the Aldermen or Common-Councilmen F.R.S.’s or any

thing else--unless it is A.S.S.’s. But no Railway scheme can be got up

without this kind of _gammon_--for that is precisely the word; and an

Alderman who would send a poor devil to the treadmill for obtaining

goods under false pretences if he only represented himself as Jones

instead of Noakes, will himself assume any honorary distinction that

is calculated to gull the public. Look at Alderman Higgs Higgs, for

example’s sake! Glance over the list of different Railway schemes--and

amongst the Provisional Committee-men belonging to each you will see

‘_Higgs Higgs, Esq., Alderman, F.R.S., &c. &c._’ Even that consummate

ass, Alderman Sun, has dubbed himself in a similar fashion;--and

therefore I see no reason why Frank Curtis, Esq., or Captain Gorman

O’Blunderbuss, should not be an F.R.S. likewise.”

This explanation was highly satisfactory to the two gentlemen last

mentioned; and on the strength of it they drank bumpers to the success

of the projected enterprise.

“I have duly registered the Company,” observed Mr. Styles; “and I have

had an interview with Dummerley, the Engineer, this afternoon! Oh! I

can assure you that I have not been idle. Dummerley is ready to swear

that he has surveyed the whole line from the south of England to the

north of Scotland----”

“But how is that possible?” demanded Frank, again lost in astonishment:

for, crafty and cunning as he was in petty trickeries, he was

altogether bewildered in the mazes of colossal swindles. “You only

thought of the plan a few days ago--and Dummerley would not have even

had time to travel the whole distance there and back post haste--much

less to survey it leisurely.”

“You are quite green in these matters, Frank,” observed Mr. Styles.

“Green!” ejaculated Captain O’Blunderbuss: “be Jasus! the Imerald Isle

itself isn’t so green as my frind Frank in cer-r-r-tain respicts. But

it’s afther enlightening him ye are, Misther Sthyles--and he’ll be all

the betther for the taching.”

“Dummerley is a regular good fellow, I can assure you,” resumed

the promoter. “‘_You will be the Engineer_,’ said I to him this

afternoon: ‘_I told Podgson that you would._’--‘_Most certainly_,’

he replied.--‘_And in case the Bill should be opposed in Committee,

you will be ready to swear that you particularly surveyed the part

of the line relative to which objections may be raised?_’--‘_Oh!

of course_,’ was his answer.--‘_And you will also swear that your

plans are perfectly correct?_’--‘_As a matter of course_,’ he again

replied.--‘_Well, then_,’ said I, ‘_here’s a five pound note for you;

and now fall to work as hard as you can to get all the plans up in

such a business-like way that they may look legitimate_.’--Dummerley

accordingly took himself off as happy as a prince; and thus every

thing goes on completely in our favour. But it is now three minutes

to five; and at five precisely I step into the Hackney omnibus at the

Flower-Pot,” added Mr. Styles, looking at his watch for the hundredth

time during the last quarter of an hour.

Frank Curtis and Captain O’Blunderbuss took the hint and their

departure; and the promoter of a scheme for raising millions treated

himself with a six-penny ride in an omnibus as far as Cambridge Heath

Gate, in which suburban quarter this great man resided in a six-roomed

house, including the kitchens.