Next day our prospectus appeared in the newspapers. It was read, canvassed, and generally approved of. During the afternoon I took an opportunity of looking into the Tontine, and, while under shelter of the Glasgow “Herald,” my ears were solaced with such ejaculations as the following:
“I say, Jimsy, hae ye seen this grand new prospectus for a railway tae Glenmutchkin?”
“Ay. It looks no that ill. The Hieland lairds are pitting their best foremost. Will ye apply for shares?”
“I think I’ll tak’ twa hundred. Wha’s Sir Polloxfen Tremens?”
“He’ll be yin o’ the Ayrshire folk. He used to rin horses at the Paisley races.”
(“The devil he did!” thought I.)
“D’ ye ken ony o’ the directors, Jimsy?”
“I ken Sawley fine. Ye may depend on ‘t, it’s a gude thing if he’s in ‘t, for he’s a howkin’ body.
“Then it’s sure to gae up. What prem. d’ ye think it will bring?”
“Twa pund a share, and maybe mair.”