The planter without more delay gave Beau an order on his city factor for the stipulated sum, and received in exchange a written document, guaranteeing the freedom of the kitchen from any encroachment by the C. L. R. R. Co.
Before leaving, Beau took the planter on one side and requested him not to disclose their bargain until after the railroad was built.
“You see, it mightn’t exactly suit the views of some people—partiality, you know.”
The last remark, accompanied by a suggestive wink, was returned by the planter in a similar demonstration of owlishness.
Beau resumed his theodolite, drove a few stakes on the hill opposite, and proceeded onward in the fulfilment of his duties. As his light figure receded into obscurity and the distance, the planter caught a sound vastly like 40—40—120—200.—And that was the last he ever heard of the railroad.
Appleton’s American Railway Anecdote Book.
MR. FRANK BUCKLAND’S FIRST RAILWAY JOURNEY.
Mr. Spencer Walpole remarks:—“Of Mr. Buckland’s Christ Church days many good stories are told. Almost every one has heard of the bear which he kept at his rooms, of its misdemeanours, and its rustication. Less familiar, perhaps, is the story of his first journey by the Great Western. The dons, alarmed at the possible consequences of a railway to London, would not allow Brunel to bring the line nearer than to Didcot. Dean Buckland in vain
protested against the folly of this decision, and the line was kept out of harm’s way at Didcot. But, the very day on which it was opened, Mr. Frank Buckland, with one or two other undergraduates, drove over to Didcot, travelled up to London, and returned in time to fulfil all the regulations of the university. The Dean, who was probably not altogether displeased at the joke, told the story to his friends who had prided themselves in keeping the line from Oxford. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘you have deprived us of the advantage of a railway, and my son has been up to London.’”