of Hookham-on-the-Hill. Both Mr. Bristles
and Mr. Flint, to all outward appearance,
sank their individual and official animosities,
and worked together for the proper and
speedy development of Hookham-in-the-
Marsh. Mr. Bristles, at every possible
opportunity, threw himself into his favourite
statuesque attitude, with his finger pointing
upon the map, and held forth enthusiastically
upon the glowing future of the now obscure
fishing-station.

"No one," he said, "with any commercial
discernment, could look at that vast natural
bay—semicircular, and only open to favourable
winds—and hesitate to predict that,
when brought by railroad within four hours
of the metropolis, its inevitable destiny would
be not only to ruin Scarborough, Brighton,
and other watering-places, but to command at
least fifty per cent, of the shipping business of
Great Britain."

Mr. Flint, in his own peculiar manner, and
in his own proper sphere, worked, like Mr.
Bristles, for the furtherance of the same
object; but, notwithstanding the energy and
ability of the two great chairmen, they were
unable to prevail upon any independent
capitalists to build upon the bleak and muddy
shore of their hopeful watering-place. In the
course of time, a certain number of monotonous
white houses, with green-shaded bow-
windows, a bath-house, a railed enclosure, and
six floating baths, were placed upon the beach
of Hookham-in-the-Marsh; but placed with
the capital of the two railways. Yet the
two extensions were looked upon with a
large degree of public interest; and, when
news came that the Great Deadlock would
require a lofty viaduct, and the Direct
Burygold a long tunnel, these things were only
regarded as two more great engineering
difficulties which nature had raised for
Anglo-Saxon energy and capital to overcome.
So popular were the Great Hookham
viaduct, and the Great Hookham tunnel, that
pictures of them were drawn, engraved, and
largely purchased by an admiring public.
Mr. Jupiter Bristles' statue was immediately
put in hand, and the parliamentary membership
of Mr. Mercator Flint began to assume
the appearance of an accomplished fact.

Things went on in this way for some
months, without any material change. Mr.
Jupiter Bristles called very often at the
studio of Mr. Atticus Mallett, to watch the
progress of his statue, which seemed to him
very slow,—a fact that he accounted for from
the dreamy character of artists, who were not
practical men. Mr. Mercator Flint was very
busy on the Stock Exchange, and patiently
awaited the time when he should be entitled
to write M.P. after his name.

Some profound writer has written, "Alas,
for the vanity of human wishes!"  One morning
intelligence came of the downfal of the
Great Hookham Viaduct; and close upon it,
came a report that the engineer of the tunnel
could not, in Burygold fashion, make both
ends meet, and that the Great Hookham
Tunnel would have to be entirely reconstructed.

There was nothing very remarkable in
this: at the worst, the result would only be
some months' delay, as the loss would fall upon
the contractors, Messrs. Fiery, Furness, and
Company, and Messrs. Brimstone and Treacle.
But, at this period, a large and important
class of persons—perhaps the most important
—whom we have scarcely alluded to, because
they always persisted in keeping entirely in
the background: the people who found the
money for all this Anglo-Saxon energy on the
part of directors; the shareholders—the
silent, contented, believing, suffering
shareholders—began to stand forward for a
personal investigation of the condition of their
property; and it was evident that a long-
gathering storm was about to break. Great
events have received a wonderful stimulus, if
not their origin, from very trifling causes.
A French revolution was started by a half-
crazy woman tattooing a child's drum in the
streets of old Paris; and a great railway
reform movement originated with the fall of
the Hookham Viaduct, and the misdirection
of the Hookham Tunnel.

Mr. Mercator Flint anticipated the investigation;
operated to his own advantage on
the Stock Exchange, resigned his chairmanship,
and disappeared. Some years afterwards
he came forward as one of the most
energetic of the railway reformers, and his
services were gladly accepted, upon the
well-known principle that governs the choice of
thief-catchers.

Mr. Jupiter Bristles, more confident, or
less clear-headed, stood his ground, and was
formally expelled from the Board-room throne
by a committee of investigation. His statue
was ruthlessly and unfeelingly countermanded
when more than half-way finished.
It was left a mass of ungainly stone, with
one blank sightless eye; the whole looking
like a gigantic wen.

The two railways were carried sulkily and
sullenly through Hookham-on-the-Hill, to
Hookham-in-the-Marsh, as there appeared to
be nothing better left to do. This watering-
place still exists for those who are curious to
see it; but it does not thrive. Some people
pretend they like its romantic solitude; but
their opinion is not to be relied on. It does
very well for young married couples who
wish to spend an undisturbed honeymoon;
but, even for these, it is not altogether cheerful,
as a melancholy memory clings to it,
beyond the power of the muddy waves to
wash away,—the memory of one visitor-
suicide and two visitor-idiots. As a port, it
is still inaccessible to a Dutch lugger.

One investigation followed upon another,
and it was found that there were other sores,
in the body-politic of the Direct Burygold,
and the Great Deadlock, besides