ascribed the whole of the legal proceedings against him to the malevolence of two interested parties, and had it not now been for their influence, the circumstance of Miss Burns’ death would have passed over without remark. Mr. Angus, so far from desiring to harm Miss Burns, expressed himself as deeply indebted to her for her care of his children and the affection and attention to his comforts she had always manifested, and emphatically declared he “loved and respected her too well to dream of doing her any harm.”
CHAPTER VI.
When I look around and see the various changes that have taken place in this “good old town” I am sometimes lost in wonderment. Narrow, inconvenient, ill-paved streets have been succeeded by broad thoroughfares—old tumble-down houses have been replaced by handsome and costly buildings, while the poor little humble shops that once were sufficient for our wants have been completely eclipsed by the gigantic and elegant “establishments” of the present day.
I recollect Dale-street when it was a narrow thoroughfare, ill-paved and ill-lighted at night. It was not half the present width. In 1808, as the town began to spread and its traffic increase, great complaints were constantly being made of the inconvenience of the principal streets, and it was agreed on all sides that something should be done towards improvement. The first movement
was made by widening Dale-street; the improvement being by throwing the thoroughfare open from Castle-street to Temple-court, but it really was not until 1820 that this street was set out in anything like a bold and handsome manner. Great difficulties were constantly thrown in the way of alterations by many of the inhabitants, who had lived in their old houses, made fortunes under their roofs, and were hoping to live and die where they had been born and brought up. Many tough battles had the authorities to fight with the owners of the property. Some were most unreasonable in the compensation they demanded, while others for a time obstinately refused to enter into any negotiations whatever, completely disregarding all promised advantages. The most obtuse and determined man was a shoemaker or cobbler, who owned a small house and shop which stood near Hockenall-alley. Nothing could persuade him to go out of his house or listen to any proposition. Out he would not go, although his neighbours had disappeared and his house actually stood like an island in the midst of the traffic current. The road was carried on each side of his house, but there stood the cobbler’s stall alone in its glory. While new and comfortable dwellings were springing up, the old cobbler laughed at his persecutors, defied them, and stood his ground in spite of all entreaty.
There the house stood in the middle of the street, and for a long time put a stop to further and complete improvement, until the authorities, roused by the indignation of the public, took forcible possession of the place and pulled the old obnoxious building about the owner’s ears, in spite of his resistance and his fighting manfully for what he thought were his rights; nor would he leave the house until it had been unroofed, the floors torn up, and the walls crumbling and falling down from room to room. The cobbler stuck to his old house to the last, showing fight all through, with a determination and persistence worthy of a nobler cause. Some few years ago a barber, also in Dale-street, exhibited an equal degree of persistence in keeping possession of his shop which was wanted for an improvement near Temple-street. This man clung to his old house and shop until it was made utterly uninhabitable..
Dale-street, when I was a boy, was not very much broader than Sir Thomas’s Buildings; in some parts it was quite as narrow, especially about Cumberland-street end. The carrying trade at one time from Liverpool was by means of packhorses, long strings of which used to leave the town with their burthens, attended by their drivers, and always mustered together in considerable number in Dale-street previous to starting. This they did that they might be strong enough
to resist the highwaymen who infested the roads at the end of the last century. I have often heard my father talk of these free gentlemen’s exploits, and the sometimes droll adventures arising from their presence. He used to tell a story of three volunteer officers going to Warrington by the stage to a county muster, being stopped by a pretended footpad (a friend in disguise) the other side of Prescot, and ignominiously robbed of everything they possessed, even their very swords. I cannot say I believed the story, because I felt sure no officers, whatever service they might be in, would have allowed themselves to be so treated. My father frequented the tavern which stood where Promoli’s Bazaar now stands, and where all the leading tradesmen used to assemble, and he told us that the three officers were there one night and were terribly “trotted” about their losses and that they did not altogether “deny the soft impeachment.” There was a good story current in Liverpool, I have been told, in 1745, touching the doings of Mr. Campbell’s regiment which, when the rebellion broke out in that year, was suddenly called into active service with orders to march to Manchester, by way of Warrington, to resist a party of Scots said to be in that neighbourhood. The regiment marched at night, and of course threw out an advanced guard. When about two miles this side of Warrington, the vanguard fell
back reporting that they had seen a party of the enemy bivouacking in the road about a quarter of a mile ahead, and that they could see them quite plainly lying on the ground, at the sides and in the middle of the road. A halt was called, and a council of war summoned. Hearts beat quickly in some hardy frames who boldly advised an onward march, while others were for retreating until some good plan of attack could be determined upon. Some were for diverging from the road and continuing the march through the lanes and bye-ways, so that, if necessary, the enemy could be outflanked. One bolder than the rest offered to go forward as a scout. His proposition was eagerly accepted. Away he went, and soon in the distance a terrible uproar was heard—the volunteers flew to arms, and waited in breathless suspense. They were surprised, however, to hear the alarm raised, but no shots fired. The row subsided, when presently the gallant scout was seen approaching with a prisoner he had bravely captured—in the form of a fat goose. The fact was that a flock of geese had got out into the road, and they presented an appearance to the advanced guard of troops bivouacking. The bold men of Liverpool were then led undauntedly forward, and it was said that every other man marched into Warrington with his supper on his knapsack.
The most admirable improvements that the town underwent was when Lord-street was widened and the Crescent formed, the completion of which undertaking cost upwards of half a million of money. Castle-street was narrow, badly paved, and badly lighted at night, as, indeed, was the whole town. Yet, I recollect there were some people who objected to the improvements at the top of Lord-street, who clung pertinaciously to the old Potato Market, and the block of buildings called Castle Hill. The houses that were erected upon the site of Castle Ditch had the floors of some of their rooms greatly inclined in consequence of the subsidence of the soil. There was a joke current at the time that these apartments ought to be devoted to dining purposes, as the gravy would always run to one side of the plate!