were sound, experienced men, with no nonsense
or imagination about them. They were
practical men: men who had never had a single
dream in their lives: men who made their mark
in actions; not in words: men fully up to the
level of their time, if not a little in advance
of it: men whose names were a guarantee
for the plain, common-sense character of what
they did: kindred men to those who had
promoted Thames Tunnels, Waterloo Bridges,
and structures, that had created in the
country a disappointed and disaffected band
of dividendless shareholders, but had increased
the number of the recognised wonders of the
world.

Such were the men into whose experienced
hands the Great Deadlock and Burygold
Railway enterprises had fallen; and it cannot
be wondered at, that capital flowed in streams
of abundance at their feet. Shareholders who
were happy in their unbounded faith in
names, and their belief in exceptional profits,
offered their support even before it was
asked.

Two of the greatest men at their respective
boards; in fact, we may go further, and say
two of the greatest men in the whole trading
country, were Mr. Jupiter Bristles, and Mr.
Mercator Flint. Mr. Bristles was the chairman
of the Direct London and Burygold
Railway, and Mr. Flint was the chairman of
the Great Deadlock Railway. They were,
undoubtedly, the right men in the right places.

Mr. Jupiter Bristles was a man who was
fully impressed with the importance of his
position. He was always at his post; in
fact, as Mrs. Bristles observed, in her lonely
mansion in one of the squares, "he seemed to
live at the railway." He was never happy as
when in the board-room, or puffing along the
platform of the London terminus, with guards
and porters touching their caps to him on
every side. He was always upon the spot to
be consulted on any emergency, and was
never so indignant as when no emergency
arose for him to be consulted upon. Traffic-
managers and secretaries were all very well
—clever, able, and attentive men; but they
fully understood that not even the most
trifling step was to be taken without the
sanction of Mr. Bristles. Far from being
annoyed when summoned at what many
men would consider untimely seasons, it was
his pride that he knew of no such seasons;
and his particular instructions were that, at
any time; at any hour of the day or night;
on any day in the week; in the midst of a
dinner-party; on Sunday, and even in church,
if wanted, he was, without a moment's
hesitation, to be called.

Mr. Bristles's reward for all this activity,
and attention to the interests of the
shareholders, was the gratification of his sense
of self-importance. He had influence; he
had authority; and, without these things, he
would have withered away. He was a stout
man; fifty; and dressed scrupulously after
the fashion of the late Sir Robert Peel.
In his own dining-room he was represented
in oil at full length, with a board-room
background; holding a roll of paper in one hand,
and with the fore-finger of his other hand
pointing to a spot upon a map lying on the
table. In his drawing-room he was again
represented in oil, at full length, with a
background of engines, bales of merchandise, a
bridge, and a tunnel; while by his side was
a large globe on which his fore-finger was
pointing in much the same manner as it did
on the map. The day, he hoped, was not far
distant when he should see his statue standing
in the great hall of the railway. When
he took a party of friends along the line—a
right or privilege of which he was very fond
of availing himself—he considered Watt a
great man, and Stephenson not to be
despised; but he knew of a greater than
either of these two—Mr. Jupiter Bristles.

Such attention at all hours, and all
seasons, "such a mastery of details, and such
power of rapid generalisation," as his
particular disciple and supporter at the board
delighted to say of him, were not without
their effect upon his brother directors. With
the exception of the preponderating influence
of the great contractors, Messrs. Brimstone,
Treacle, and Company, over the affairs of the
Direct London and Burygold Railway, Mr.
Jupiter Bristles reigned supreme, and there
was every chance of his statue being voted
by the board.

Mr. Mercator Flint, the chairman of the
Great Deadlock Railway, was a thin, severe
man, with a crane-like neck, always enveloped,
night and day, in a stiff Brummel tie. He
had his weaknesses (he wanted to get into
Parliament); but he was careful enough
never to show them; and, without any
commanding power of intellect, he impressed
people with a notion of inexhaustible ability,
because of his extreme caution and reservation.
He had the masterly talent of silence.

Being connected with the Stock Exchange,
he passed much of his time at the London
terminus; but he was far above any vulgar
gratification arising from the servility of the
servants of the company. They touched their
caps to him or bowed, as the case might be;
but he took no notice of such useless marks
of respect, and passed on. His undoubted
application and his presumed abilities gave
him a large degree of influence over his
brother directors; and, with the exception of
that retained by the great contractors, Messrs.
Fiery, Furness and Company, Mr. Mercator
Flint's power was absolute.

The Direct Burygold, and the Great Deadlock
railways could not exist together,
running to the same highly important town,
without active rivalry. Indeed a silent
encounter had been going on for some time,
the knowledge of which had not yet reached
the general public; for its injurious results
had not appeared in the annual accounts.