as you can see a white horse a mile off) learning to beat the drum. The little wretches used to batter away in Mr. Waterhouse’s garden and Rupert-lane half the day through, until several letters appeared in the newspapers on the subject, which excited the wrath of the commanding officer of the regiment then stationed there, who vowed vengeance on all civilians daring to interfere with, or comment on, the rules of the service.
The Breck-road, and indeed all the roads about Everton were, but a few years back, mere country lanes, along which little passed except the farmers. There was no traffic on them as there was no leading thoroughfare to any place in the neighbourhood of the least importance. It is only within the last ten years that Everton can be said to have been at all populous. It was in my young days out by Breck-road and Anfield (originally called Hangfield), Whitefield-lane, and Roundhill-lane, completely open country. On Breck-road or Lane the only house was that at the corner of Breckfield-road, called the “Odd House.” It was then a farm.
Connected with Whitefield-lane I recollect a good story told by a gentleman I knew, of his getting a free ride to Liverpool, behind the carriage of a well-known eccentric and most benevolent gentleman, some thirty years ago. My young friend who was then but lately come to Liverpool, had been
invited to spend Sunday at Whitefield House, which stands at the corner of Whitefield-lane and Boundary-lane. At that time there was not a house near it for some distance. Boundary-lane was a narrow, rutted road, with a hedge and a ditch on each side, while the footpath—on one side only—was in a most miserable condition. There was then adjoining West Derby-road a large strawberry garden, which in summer time was the resort of pleasure-seekers, and it was the only approach to neighbourship along the whole length of the lane.
On leaving Whitefield House the night proved so intensely dark that my young friend found himself quite bewildered, and scarcely know whether to turn to the right or the left, being unacquainted with the locality. Fortunately turning to the right, he stumbled along the miserable road, and with the utmost difficulty made his way onward, but not without misgivings of being knocked down and robbed, as there had been several daring attacks made upon people at night in that vicinity. He fervently wished himself in Liverpool, but shortly arriving at the West Derby-road he began to understand his “whereabouts.” Having proceeded a few yards, a carriage passed him driven by a postilion. There was an unoccupied dicky behind, which my young friend thought it seemed a pity not to appropriate. Quick
as youth and activity prompted, he climbed upon the carriage with the notion of the Dutchman “that it was better to ride than walk,” and found his condition materially benefited by being carried through the darkness of the night instead of walking. When the carriage reached the London-road my friend thought it was time to alight, as he was then near home; but to his dismay he found that, although it was very easy to get up, it was not very easy to get down in safety. On he went with the carriage until it arrived at Lime-street, and began to turn down Roe-street, which was a good mile from my friend’s lodgings. What was to be done? A bold thought struck him. “Hallo, hallo! I’ll get down here!” he cried. Upon this the postilion pulled up short, when down came the window of the carriage, and an inquiry from it took place as to the reason of the stoppage. My friend had by this time managed to drop off his perch, when he found the head protruding was that of the excellent lessee of the Theatre Royal, Mr. Lewis. As he was quite as polite a man as the worthy lessee himself, on finding to whom he had been indebted for his ride, he made a very low bow, with thanks for his most welcome “lift,” exclaiming with Buckingham, “I will remember that your Grace is bountiful.” In very sharp tones “John” was told to drive on, while my friend walked away, quietly laughing in his sleeve at the
success of his impudence, but regretting that he had not alighted sooner to be nearer home.
Surprising are the changes that have taken place on the West Derby-road of late years. It was originally called Rake-lane, and Rocky-lane from Richmond-hill. A complete little town has sprung up upon its pleasant meadows and bountiful cornfields. The Zoological Gardens, within a very few years, was the uttermost verge of this suburb. I recollect very well the opening of those once beautiful gardens. They were projected by the late Mr. Atkins, a gentleman who was the proprietor of the largest travelling-menagerie in the country. The place he had selected for his undertaking was called “Plumpton’s Hollow.” This was originally a large excavation, whence brick-clay which abounds in the neighbourhood had been obtained. Mr. Atkins, possessing great taste and judgment, was highly favoured and much thought of by the late Lord Derby, who consulted him on many occasions and honoured him with his patronage, benefiting the gardens as much as he could, by adding to the collection. Mr. Atkins chose this site for his gardens, believing it to be far enough out of town for the convenience of the public, and healthy enough for the due growth of his trees and plants, and the well-being of his animals. The Zoological Gardens were, under Mr. Atkin’s management, very different, by
all accounts, from what they are now. I have seen on fine summer days, numbers of ladies of the highest respectability taking the air in them, accompanied by their children, while at night the attendance was most excellent, being patronized by the highest families in the town who seemed to enjoy the amusements provided with the utmost zest and relish. The collection of animals was remarkable at that time. Captains of vessels frequently brought rare and curious animals as presents, so that every week some new specimen of interest was added. I look back with pleasure to the many hours I have spent in the Gardens shortly after their being opened. They were admirably conducted, and in great repute as a zoological collection. Mr. Atkins took his idea of forming them from the success of the Gardens then lately established in Regent’s Park, and at Kennington, in Surrey.
A great sensation was once produced by the abduction of a Miss Turner from Miss Daulby’s School, on the West Derby-road, by Mr. E. Gibbon Wakefield. This is the white house that stands retired a field distant from the road, on the right hand side, about a quarter of a mile beyond the Zoological Gardens.