e of me. It's a true picture,
and it tells you who I am. I did make that railway. I have made
thousands of miles of railway; I am making thousands of miles of
railways--some in Europe, some in Asia, some in America. It's a
true picture," and he poked his stick through it and held it up to
the crowd. "A true picture: but for that spade and that railway, I
shouldn't be now here asking your votes; and, when next February
comes, I shouldn't be sitting in Westminster to represent you, as, by
God's grace, I certainly will do. That tells you who I am. But now,
will you tell me who Mr Moffat is?"

"How about the brandy, Roger?"

"Oh, yes, the brandy! I was forgetting that and the little speech
that is coming out of my mouth--a deal shorter speech, and a better
one than what I am making now. Here, in the right hand you see a
brandy bottle. Well, boys, I'm not a bit ashamed of that; as long
as a man does his work--and the spade shows that--it's only fair he
should have something to comfort him. I'm always able to work, and
few men work much harder. I'm always able to work, and no man has a
right to expect more of me. I never expect more than that from those
who work for me."

"No more you don't, Roger: a little drop's very good, ain't it,
Roger? Keeps the cold from the stomach, eh, Roger?"

"Then as to this speech, 'Come, Jack, let's have a drop of some'at
short.' Why, that's a good speech too. When I do drink I like to
share with a friend; and I don't care how humble that friend is."

"Hurrah! more power. That's true too, Roger; may you never be without
a drop to wet your whistle."

"They say I'm the last new baronet. Well, I ain't ashamed of that;
not a bit. When will Mr Moffat get himself made a baronet? No man
can truly say I'm too proud of it. I have never stuck myself up; no,
nor stuck my wife up either: but I don't see much to be ashamed of
because the bigwigs chose to make a baronet of me."

"Nor, no more thee h'ant, Roger. We'd all be barrownites if so be we
knew the way."

"But now, having polished off this bit of picture, let me ask you who
Mr Moffat is? There are pictures enough about him, too; though Heaven
knows where they all come from. I think Sir Edwin Landseer must have
done this one of the goose; it is so deadly natural. Look at it;
there he is. Upon my word, whoever did that ought to make his fortune
at some of these exhibitions. Here he is again, with a big pair
of scissors. He calls himself 'Engla