The struggle began under the auspices of Sir Andrew Agnew in the Edinburgh and Glasgow Railway Company. It was continued—it was successful. It spread, as new Scottish lines opened, into the North British under the charge of Mr Blackadder—the Caledonian (alas!), of Sir Andrew Agnew—the Northern, of Mr Maitland Heriot of Ramornie—and the Central, of Mr Campbell of Monzie. It crossed the border, and it is now maintained as an English question in the Newcastle and Carlisle line by Mr Graham of Edmond Castle—in the North-Western by Mr Thomas Greig of Manchester, the associate of Mr Cheetham of Staleybridge in the deliverance of the Edinburgh and Glasgow Railway from its Sabbath bondage—and in the Eastern Union by Mr Andrew Johnston of Halesworth, who was long Sir Andrew Agnew’s devoted coadjutor in Parliament. These may be little-looking things in contrast with the gigantic railway interest which broods over the land, nestling within the palace of the prince as well as in the cabin of the peasant, and in all that is between. But they are a beginning. They have an existence. They have secured a standing for themselves in the country and in the companies. They possess an indestructible principle of life in their magic symbol, “Remember the Sabbath-day, to keep it holy”—words which render the little band as unconquerable as if they were cheered on by thousands and had the command of millions, and as confident of success—unless the country be under judgment—as the word and promise of the living God can make men to be.