Behind the road of Notting Hill there was a lane called Pottery Lane. In this lane was a place where tiles were made and at the end of the lane a colony of pigkeepers. Every house here had a colony of the porcine family in its yard. A number of carts filled with tubs passed daily to London gathering refuse from hotels and mansions to feed the large families of pigs gathered here.
It was not a savoury place and at the time of the cholera the inhabitants suffered severely.
Rough looking people they appeared, but upon closer acquaintance it was seen they looked more uncouth than they really were. The only religious or secular education the people and children received was provided by the members of the Baptist chapel at Silver Street, and the congregation at Hornton Street. Their place of meeting for some years, was in an unfinished house with its unplastered walls on two floors not divided into separate rooms.
Their teachers were poor but they had love to God in their hearts and proved it by their love to their neighbours.
Their names unrecorded on earth will never be forgotten by Him who said “Inasmuch as ye did it to the least of these my brethren ye did it to me.”
Beyond this colony I discovered another in Latimer Road where there was no Sabbath teaching or secular education. In looking back I feel grateful to God for the numbers I was enabled to gather together on the Sabbath, both of adults and children and also for the many children who received instruction in a day school I established. It is many years ago but I meet with some now who thank God that in the Sabbath teaching there they received that acquaintance with Jesus which has proved a blessing to them and their children to the present time. But what a place it was when I first discovered it—comparatively out of the world—a rough road cut across the field, the only approach. Brickfields and pits on either side, making it dangerous to leave on dark nights.
A safe place for many people who did not wish everybody to know what they were doing. I am afraid that there were more spirits about there than there were either bodies or bottles to contain.
I could tell a great deal about Latimer Road in 1844 to 1850, but other Pharoahs have arisen there who know not Joseph and they are doing a good work in that which by the opening of a railway station has become a well-known place.
Westbourne Grove was a pleasant Grove of small villas with gardens in front and behind. Newton Road was a similar place.
The only road by which they could be approached was Black Lion Lane, now Queen’s Road and a footpath across the field where Princes Square now stands.