About this time commenced what is well termed “The Railway Mania,” or, rather, public attention was particularly called to it, as it was becoming a crying scandal. So much so, that it attracted the notice of the legislature; and, if we look at a “Return to the Order of the Honourable the House of Commons, dated 8th April, 1845, for an alphabetical list of the Names, Description, and Places of Abode, of all Persons subscribing to the Amount of £2,000 and upwards to any Railway Subscription Contract deposited in the Private Bill Office during the present Session of Parliament,” we shall see that amongst the names will be found many of the leading nobility, large manufacturing firms, names well known in commerce and literature, mingled together in a most heterogeneous manner. The same column shows a combination of peers and printers, vicars and vice-admirals, spinsters and half-pay officers, Members of Parliament and special pleaders, professors and cotton spinners, gentlemen’s cooks and KC.’s, attorneys’ clerks and college scouts, waiters at Lloyd’s, relieving officers and excisemen, editors and engineers, barristers and butchers, Catholic priests and coachmen, dairymen and dyers, braziers, bankers, beer sellers and butlers, domestic servants, footmen and mail guards, and almost every calling under the sun. And these, it must be remembered, were subscribers for £2,000 and upwards; those who put down their names for less were supposed to be holders of £21,386 6s. 4d. in Stock. Of course, _Punch_ could not overlook this mania for speculation, and we find the following in the number for 31 May: “The night was stormy and dark. The town was shut up in sleep; Only those were abroad who were out on a lark, Or those, who’d no beds to keep. [Picture: “How many hundred shares have you wrote for?” Railroad Speculators] “I pass’d through the lonely street, The wind did sing and blow; I could hear the policeman’s feet Clapping to and fro. “There stood a potato-man In the midst of all the wet; He stood with his ’tato can In the lonely Haymarket. “Two gents of dismal mien, And dank and greasy rags. Came out of a shop for gin, Swaggering over the flags: “Swaggering over the stones, Those shabby bucks did walk; And I went and followed those needy ones, And listened to their talk. “Was I sober, or awake? Could I believe my ears? Those dismal beggars spake Of nothing but railroad shares. “I wondered more and more; Says one, ‘Good friend of mine, How many shares have you wrote for In the Diddlesex Junction Line?’ “‘I wrote for twenty,’ says Jim, ‘But they wouldn’t give me one’; His comrade straight rebuked him For the folly he had done: “‘Oh, Jim, you are unawares Of the ways of this bad town; _I_ always write for five hundred shares, And _then_, they put me down.’