ness was that of Vincent Playfair and Co., in a social sense, an old and honorable family, descended from those tobacco lords who built the finest quarters of the town. These clever merchants, by an act of the Union, had founded the first Glasgow warehouse for dealing in tobacco from Virginia and Maryland. Immense fortunes were realized; mills and foundries sprang up in all parts, and in a few years the prosperity of the city attained its height.
The house of Playfair remained faithful to the enterprising spirit of its ancestors, it entered into the most daring schemes, and maintained the honor of English commerce. The principal, Vincent Playfair, a man of fifty, with a temperament essentially practical and decided, although somewhat daring, was a genuine shipowner. Nothing affected him beyond commercial questions, not even the political side of the transactions, otherwise he was a perfectly loyal and honest man.
However, he could not lay claim to the idea of building and fitting up the Dolphin; she belonged to his nephew, James Playfair, a fine young man of thirty, the boldest skipper of the British merchant marine.
It was one day at the Tontine coffee-room under the arcades of the Town-hall, that James Playfair, after having impatiently scanned the American journal, disclosed to his uncle an adventurous scheme. "Uncle Vincent," said he, coming to the point at once, "there are two millions of pounds to be gained in less than a month."
"And what to risk?" asked Uncle Vincent.
"A ship and a cargo."
"Nothing else?"
"Nothing, except the crew and the captain, and that does not reckon for much."
"Let us see," said Uncle Vincent.
"It is all seen," replied James Playfair. "You have read the Tribune, the New York Herald, the Times, the Richmond Inquirer, the American Review?"
"Scores of times, nephew."
"You believe, like me, that the war of the United States will last a long time still?"
"A very long time."
"You know how much this struggle will affect the interests of England, and especially those of Glasgow?"
