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Updated: July 12, 2025
This financial coup would not have come off so well but for the warm-hearted co-operation of our railway printers, McCorquodale and Coy. They, good people, entered into our exploit with a will, did their part well, and made little if any profit, generously leaving that to Cynicus and myself. To his mother, like many another clever son, Cynicus owed his talent.
She exercised an authority over her household which inspired respect and contrasted strikingly with the easy- going parental ways of to-day. There were other sons and there were daughters also, all more or less gifted, but Cynicus was the genius of the family its bright particular star. The various lodgings of my bachelor days was never quite of the conventional sort.
In the friends I made I was fortunate too. They included two or three budding lawyers, a young engineer, a banker, a doctor, two embryo hotel managers, an auctioneer, and one or two journalists; and, as I have mentioned before, my artist friend Cynicus. We were, most of us, friends of each other, met often, and the variety of our pursuits gave zest and interest to our intercourse.
They were very plainly furnished, the only thing in the way of decoration being a production in watercolour representing a fair green crowded with herds of cattle and flocks of sheep, and adorned with sundry pastoral and agricultural emblems, from the brush of my friend Cynicus. This I framed and hung in the dining-room.
At Cambuslang I made the acquaintance and became the friend of Cynicus, the humorous artist whose satirical sketches have, for many years, been well-known and well sold in England, in Scotland and in Ireland too. He was then a youth of about twenty.
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