After the party had partaken of refreshments, there were toasts and mutual congratulations, and the procession tramped back to the station.
“Again there was a little delay, awaiting the train from Llanidloes (says our chronicler), and it was half-past three o’clock before The Train of the day fairly started. Filling the carriages and trucks was no joke. Admirable arrangements had been made, and the ladies were first accommodated with seats. One or two gentlemen did attempt to take their place before this arrangement was fully carried out, but they were very unceremoniously brought out again, amidst the ironical cheers of the outsiders. At last the forty-eight trucks and carriages were loaded, and, at a moderate estimate, we should say, 3,000 people were in the train. The two new engines, The Llewelyn and The Milford, were attached to the carriages, and were driven by Mr. T. D. Roberts and Mr. T. E. Minshall. Although the train was so heavily laden with passengers, there was a large crowd of people left to cheer as it slowly passed out of the Station. The appearance of this monster train was magnificent. More than 2,000 of the passengers were in open trucks, and at certain points, where there was a curve in the line, and a good sight could be obtained, the train, as it wound its way through the valley, presented a scene not easily to be erased from the memory.
“Soon after four o’clock Llanidloes Station was reached, and the passengers alighted amidst the shouts of the inhabitants, who had come to welcome them. A large circle was formed in the field adjoining the Station, and Mr. Whalley introduced to those assembled Mrs. Owen, of Glansevern, who declared the line to be opened.”
It hardly required her stirring words to enlist the enthusiasm of the company concerning the economic change which the railways were to bring to Wales. Derelict acres were to be brought into cultivation; “the very central town of the ancient Principality,” in which that ceremony was taking place, was to become the capital of a new prosperity, and as for Mr. Whalley, were not that day’s proceedings “a chapter more honourable than any wreath of laurel that could be won on the battle field by success in war?” The plaudits of the assembled confirmed the sentiment, and “a rush was then made for the tent where the luncheon was provided. Here again the ladies had the same proper attention paid to them; the sterner sex was kept out until they could be accommodated with seats. After a short delay the tent was well filled with visitors, and upwards of 300 sat down to lunch. Grace was said by the Rector of Llanidloes, and for a season the clatter of knives and forks was the only sound to be heard.”
Small wonder! For the afternoon was well advanced, and the time-table had gone rather awry. But that did not in the least damp the ardour of the company. Refreshed by their belated meal, more toasts were honoured, more speeches made, and the future continued to assume the most roseate hue. The district, declared one orator, was destined to become “the abode of smiling happiness,” and Newtown and Llanidloes “the haunts and hives of social industry.” It was, said another, the first link in a chain “which must, ere long, form
one of the greatest and most important trunk lines in the kingdom.” “People,” exclaimed a third, “laughed at it because it had no head or tail”; but let the scoffers wait and see! With all these glowing anticipations, proceedings became so protracted that the ladies had to withdraw, but the gentlemen went on drinking toasts with undiminished energy. They drank to the Chairman; they drank to the Secretary; they drank to the Engineer, and the Contractors, and the Bankers who had lent them the money, and to the success of the other railways springing up around them, including the Mid-Wales, the first sod of which was to be cut in a few days’ time, with what strange accompaniment will be noted in a subsequent chapter. Not until the health of the Press,—“may its perfect independence ever expose abuses and advocate what is just, through evil and through good report,”—had been duly honoured did the company disperse.
The workmen, too, were entertained, with good fare and more speeches. Salvers and cake baskets were presented to Messrs. Davies and Savin. Master Edward Davies, aged 5, and Master Tom Savin, aged 6, were held up aloft, and presented with watches, and the cheering, which had gone on almost continuously for hours, broke forth afresh. One of the workmen, who was also, at any rate, in the opinion of his colleagues, something of a poet, stepped forward, and, “amidst roars of laughter and tremendous cheering,” sang his thanks as follows:—
Well now we’ve got a railway,
The truth to you I’ll tell,
To be opened in August,
The people like it well;
We’ve heard a deal of rumour
O’er all the country wide,
We’ll never get a railway,
The people can’t provide.Well now we have the carriages,
For pleasure trips to ride;
The Milford it shall run us,
And Henry lad shall drive;
There’s also Jack the stoker,
So handy and so free,
He lives now at Llandiman,
A buxom lad is he.We have a first rate gentleman
Who does very nigh us dwell,
And he has got a partner,
The people like him well;
Look at the trucks my boys,
Their names you’ll plainly see;
They’ve took another Railway,
There’s plenty of work for we.Well now our gen’rous masters
Do handsomely provide
A store of meat and drink my boys,
Come out and take a ride;
For we are in our ribbons,
And dress’d so neat and trim;
Drink up my charming Sally,
We’ll fill it to the brim.When these few days are over,
The navvies they will part,
And go back to their gangers
With blithe and cheerful heart;
And Jack he will be hooting,
And getting drunk full soon;
I wish there was a railway
To be opened every moon.And now I have to finish,
And shall conclude my song;
I hope and trust my good friends,
I’ve stated nothing wrong;
All you young men and maidens,
That are so full of play,
I hope you’ll all take tickets
On that most glorious day.
“When the song was concluded, Colonel Wynn purchased the first copy, for which the fortunate bard received a shilling. Several other gentlemen followed this example, and the poet must have regretted that his stock in trade was so limited.
“During the latter part of the proceedings, several had left the enclosure to join the merry dance, to the strains of the Welshpool Band, in the adjoining field. We cannot use the usual stock phrase of the penny-a-liner and say to ‘trip it on the light fantastic toe,’ for in several instances a pair of stalwart navvies might be seen in anything but dancing pumps kicking out most gloriously. In another part of the field, a party were deeply engaged in an exciting game of football. All was mirth and jollity. From the oldest to the youngest, the richest to the poorest, every one seemed to try to get as much enjoyment out of the evening as possible, and if there were any grumblers to be found at Messrs. Davies and Savin’s monster picnic, the fault must have been with themselves.