How little one foresees events.
Not long had I left Glasgow before unexpected changes occurred. In 1886,
Mr. Wainwright took ill and died; soon after Mathieson went to
Queensland; and in less than eight short years three general managers had
succeeded Mr. Wainwright.
They were good to me when I left Glasgow. I was presented with a
valuable testimonial at a banquet at which Mr. Wainwright presided and at
which my good friend, G. G., made a fine speech. It would be idle for me
to say that the warm congratulations of my friends, the prospects of
change, and the sense of new responsibilities, did not delight and excite
me. But a strong measure of regret was mixed with the pleasurable
draught. I was greatly attached to my chief, and keenly felt the parting
from him. He felt it too. When it came to the last handshake words
failed us both.
The Nestor of the Glasgow and South-Western Railway was Andrew Galloway,
the chief engineer. A Nestor he looked with his fine, strong, grave
features, abundant hair, and flowing beard. He was a very able engineer,
but had many old-fashioned ways, one of which was an objection to anyone
but himself opening his letters, and when absent from his office they
would at times lie for several days untouched.
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