After all it is the centre of the
town that one naturally gravitates to, and no charm of suburbs can remove
the general impression of commercial dinginess.
No, Glasgow must be content with its wealth and its public spirit. If it
does not stir the imagination like Edinburgh, it satisfies the brain and
the heart, for it is grappling manfully with many social problems, with
the opening of parks and hospitals, and especially with the housing of
the poor, and is developing an artistic conscience to boot. It owns its
gas and water, and I had the felicity of meeting the Lord Provost at the
very moment when, his glittering insignia heaving with emotion on his
joyous breast, he had to announce to the Town Council that the
fiercely-canvassed step of taking over the tramways had resulted in a
balance to the good. When the Lord Provost had returned to his chair, I
was shown the Councillors themselves at their mahogany tables, in their
beautiful Council-chamber, and I made notes--not of the debate, as the
lynx-eyed reporter, who counted the number of times I sucked my pencil,
imagined--but of the improved appearance of George Square under snow.
Seen through the windows the square stretched away pure and beautiful the
gloomy statues blanched and Prince Albert's horse gleaming proudly with
white trappings.
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