I remember when I was Mayor, in 1880, a commission was given to Herkomer to paint his portrait. He asked me what sort of man Mr. MacIver was, and then proceeded to Calderstones to paint his portrait. In a few days he returned, saying he was going home, as he had not found the strong man I had described. In a few months he returned and called to tell me that he had found my Mr. MacIver and painted him. It appears that on his first visit Mr. MacIver was suffering from illness. Mr. MacIver built up the Cunard Line, which in the fifties paid one-third of our Liverpool dock dues. I can visualise Colonel MacIver marching down Water Street at the head of 1,000 of his men whom he had drilled and trained. This was one of the first Volunteer regiments raised in 1858, when we had fears that Napoleon III intended to invade this country. Many stories are told of Mr. MacIver's stern discipline. It is said one of his captains asked permission to take his wife to sea with him. Permission was granted, but when the day of sailing arrived he received passenger tickets for himself and his wife, also an intimation that he had been superseded in command of the ship. I remember doing some small service for Mr. MacIver which required some promptitude in its execution. In thanking me he added, "Young man, always kill your chickens when young"--and this was the principle he acted upon when threatened with opposition in any of his trades. Mr. MacIver was very public-spirited, and a liberal supporter of our seamen's charities. It was a rule with the old Cunard Line not to introduce improvements until they had been well tried, and they continued to construct wooden paddle steamers long after the iron screw steamer had proved its efficiency. It was no doubt this policy which built up the wonderful reputation the line has always enjoyed for safety. Although Charles MacIver was the master-builder of the Cunard Company, he was not actually one of the founders. These were Samuel Cunard, George Burns, and David MacIver. David MacIver died in 1845, and his brother Charles took his place. I was staying at Castle Wemyss in 1890, when I received a message that Sir George Burns wished to see me. The old man was lying on what proved to be his deathbed. His features, which were those of a handsome, strong, and resolute man, were thrown into striking relief by the halo of long, flowing, silver-white locks, which fell on his pillow. His mind (he was then ninety-five) evidently loved to live in the distant past, and he told me with pride, not of the doings of the Cunard Company, with which he had been so long and so honourably associated, but of the old sailing brigs, which in the days of his youth carried the mails between this country and Halifax.