Mr. Burns was a striking personality; strong and vigorous, mentally and
physically. He had a good voice, and was clear, decided and emphatic in
speech. He was a doughty champion of the Glasgow and South-Western
Company, with which at this time, affairs, like the course of true love,
did not run smooth. The dividend was down and discontented shareholders
were up in arms. Bitter attacks were made on the directors and the
management. Not that anything was really wrong, for the business of the
line was skilfully and honestly conducted, but the times were bad, and
"empty stalls make biting steeds." The very same shareholders who, when
returns are satisfactory, are as gentle as cooing doves, should revenue
and expenditure alter their relations to the detriment of dividend,
become critical, carping and impossible to please, though the directors
and management may be as innocent as themselves, and as powerless to stem
the tide of adversity. At shareholders' meetings Mr. Burns was splendid.
He rose after the critics had expended their force, or if the storm grew
too violent, intervened at its height, and with facts and figures and
sound argument always succeeded in restoring order and serenity. An
excellent story of him appeared about this time in _Good Words_. He,
Anthony Trollope and Norman Macleod were once at a little inn in the
Highlands. After supper, stories were told and the laughter, which was
loud and long, lasted far into the night. In the morning an old
gentleman, who slept in a room above them, complained to the landlord of
the uproar which had broken his night's rest, and expressed his
astonishment that such men should have taken more than was good for them.
"Well," replied the landlord, "I am bound to confess there was much loud
talk and laughter, but they had nothing stronger than tea and fresh
herrings." "Bless me," rejoined the old gentleman, "if that is so, what
would they be after dinner!"