border, to Aberystwyth, on the shores of Cardigan Bay, with its two chief

subsidiary “sections,” one (including some half dozen miles of the original track) from Moat Lane Junction to Brecon, and another from Dovey Junction to Pwllheli; shorter branches or connecting lines from Ellesmere to Wrexham, Oswestry to Llangynog, Llanymynech to Llanfyllin, Abermule to Kerry, Cemmes Road to Dinas Mawddwy, Barmouth Junction to Dolgelley, and two lengths of narrow gauge line, from Welshpool to Llanfair Caereinion and Aberystwyth to Devil’s Bridge, altogether exactly 300 miles.

Such, in briefest outline, denotes how “the Cambrian” began and what it has grown to be; but there is little virtue in a mere recital of statistics, and the writing of “history,” of the kind once defined by the late Lord Halsbury as “only a string of names and dates” would be no congenial task to the present author.  Nor, happily, is it necessary to confine oneself to such barren and unemotional limits.  It is not in the record of train miles run, of the number of passengers and the weight of the merchandise carried, or even in the dividends earned, or not earned (though these factors are not without their value to the proprietors) that the chief interest in the story of a railway lies. [2]  Very often it is the tale of unending trial and difficulty and even apparent failure which holds for the spectator the largest measure of romance, and such is certainly the case of what, at one time, was, with quite as much sympathetic affection as contempt, popularly called “the poor old Cambrian.”  There were times when the difficulties which faced its constructors appeared to be absolutely insuperable.  What with the enormous weight of

its cradle, measured in gold, and the continual quarrels of its nurses, the undertaking was well nigh strangled at birth.  Even when the line was actually opened for traffic a burden of financial difficulty rested upon Directors and Managers that might have crushed the spirit out of many a stout heart.

Judged by the maturer experience of long years, it is wonderful to think that, even under the most careful management, the Company should have been able to survive its constant buffetings at the hand of Fate, but survive it has, and by eternal patience and unfailing perseverance these many troubles were at length overcome, and if to-day the railway offers facilities and comforts to the travelling public that stand the test of comparison with such as are provided by the great trunk lines of England and Scotland, it is no small tribute to those who have worked long and labouring to bring its services to their present high standard of efficiency.

But of the Cambrian as we know it to-day there will be something more to be said presently.  Biography, by time-honoured custom, if not necessity, begins with birth and parentage; and, though corporate bodies may often experience some difficulty about laying claim to a “lang pedigree,” even a railway company cannot come into existence without considerable pre-natal labour.

Among its parents the Cambrian possessed some men of rare grit and determination.  Prominent among them was one who ranks high among the makers of modern Wales, whose name has become a household word not only in his native land, but wherever Welshmen congregate throughout the world, and is still, by happy coincidence, intimately associated, in the third generation, with the Cambrian to-day.  The story of David Davies of Llandinam

has been fully told in other pages, [4] but it is so closely woven around the romance of the railway which he did so much to bring into being that no record of that undertaking would be complete without some reference to it, however brief.  Born at a small holding called Draintewion, perched on the hillside overlooking the Severn Vale near Llandinam, the eldest of a family of nine children, on December 18, 1818,—“three eighteens,” as he used in later life jocularly to remark—his boyhood was spent on the little plot of land tilling its rich soil, or helping his father, in the work of sawing timber into planks, a commodity for which public demand was then rapidly increasing.  His only schooling was received in a little seminary carried on in the village church, and that wonderful educational institution of rural Wales, the Sunday School.  But at the age of eleven the desk was deserted for the saw bench, and the rest of his instruction was derived at “the University of Observation, in which he took not a mere ‘pass’ but very high ‘honours’.”  A keen observation of human nature, a shrewd judgment of men and beast, and a ready aptitude for application of native wit to the problems of life developed David Davies into the man of wealth and power he ultimately became.  Even in his school

days, however, these latent traits were not unobservable.  It is recorded that “he was the winner of every game.”  He may have had a generous portion of what men call “luck,” but to it was added the still more valuable element of industry and perseverance and healthy ambition.  He knew how to take the chances which came his way, which is probably the secret of success with many who “get on.”  When opportunity offered to enter a new path he readily seized it, and from the hewer of wood he became the modest contractor, and ultimately the greater builder of bridges, docks and railways.

Passengers travelling along the Cambrian line from Moat Lane Junction to Llanidloes, may notice, at Llandinam, the roadway which runs below the church, and crosses the river on an embankment to the station.  The construction of that highway was the first contract which David Davies held, and it stands to-day, hard by the statue of him which has since been erected, as a monument of his self-reliant zeal and sound workmanship.  Other contracts followed, including that for the construction of Oswestry Smithfield, and it was during one of his visits to that town that Mr. Davies formed a friendship which led to a partnership that, in its turn, played a potent part in the making of the Cambrian.

For in Oswestry there lived Mr. Thomas Savin, who had been born, in 1826, at Llwynymaen, and was a partner in a mercer’s business with Mr. Edward Morris (who afterwards purchased and sold the Van Mine near Caersws), under the style of Messrs. Morris and Savin.  Mr. Savin’s mind, however, was not entirely concentrated on measuring cloth and calico.  He took a keen interest in the life of the town, and was an energetic supporter of local institutions.  Elected to the Town Council in 1856, he was

mayor in 1863, and appointed alderman in 1871, an office he retained to the