“I went on building and building until I gave up taking ground for one or two houses, but took it for ten, then fifteen, then twenty, and then for twenty-seven. All one side of Bessborough Street was built by me. My son was an immense help to me. Of course, as might have been expected, my career was not one of uninterrupted prosperity. Things went very hard with me once or twice; but my troubles were chiefly owing to the political commotion of the times, which disturbed trade and unsettled men’s minds. The Chartist riots did me some harm, as did also the Feargus O’Connor disturbances, and some trade disputes.
“It was during the time of the Chartist disturbances that my troubles reached their climax, and that I really thought that results, for which I had so long laboured, were about to be removed from my reach for ever. One day, when I was really unable to say how my engagements were to be met, one of my foremen came and said there was a gentleman waiting to see me about a house. I said—
“‘Don’t bother! no one wants to buy a house in these times.
“‘But he is a decent-looking man,’ said the foreman.
“‘It’s no good. I see no hope of getting out of the present difficulties, and I shall have to discharge you all.’
“‘I advise you to see the man. He looks a business man.’
“I went to see the gentleman, who was no other than the father of Dr. Moore. As it happened, this was another turn in my life.
“‘What do you want for this house?’
“‘Seven hundred guineas.’
“‘Well, I will come and look at it on Sunday with my son.’