Riding on horseback on the sea-shore was a very favourite pastime. Many business men rode into town, keeping to the shore as far as Sandhills Station.
On the road to Liverpool, and midway between Bootle and Liverpool, surrounded by fields, were the ruined walls of Bank Hall, which for 500 years had been the residence of the Moores, one of the most celebrated Liverpool families; they were large owners of property, and for that long period were closely identified with the public life of the little town.
The Hall had been pulled down and the materials used for the erection of the large stone farm buildings and an important farm-house. In my boyhood days the barns and farm-house still remained, and also the ancient garden wall, flanked with high stone gate-posts and surmounted by large carved stone urns, such as were common in the early Georgian period. A deep and wide ditch ran along the front of the wall, which was part of the old moat. The Ashcrofts were the tenants of the farm, and I can remember making hay in a field which would be about the site of the present Bankhall railway station. Further along again, in Great Howard Street, stood the jail, commonly called the French prison, many French prisoners of war having been confined there during the Peninsular war.
Near Sandhills Station there stood a large house, surrounded by trees, the residence of John Shaw Leigh, one of the founders of the present Liverpool. I remember being taken to see the icehouse in the grounds, which formed a sort of cave. Walton was a very pretty village, and remained so until a comparatively recent date; its lanes were shaded by stately trees, amid which there nestled the charming old thatched cottages which formed the village. The church, the mother church of Liverpool, was a landmark for miles, and amid its rustic and rural surroundings was picturesque and romantic. Near at hand were Skirving's nursery gardens, quite celebrated in their time.
The southern end of the town preserved its suburban aspect for a much longer period. Aigburth Road and its great elm trees remained untouched by the builder of cottages until quite recent times. Prince's Road was made in 1843, and was margined on either side by fields, which for long years remained in a more or less ragged condition, some of the land being occupied by squatters, living in wooden tenements such as we are familiar with when property lies derelict, past cultivation, but not yet ripe for the builder.
Aigburth Road and St. Michael's Hamlet retained their charming and picturesque features until such a recent period that I need not dwell upon them. Few towns had more attractive and beautiful suburbs; now the tramways have encouraged the building of small property in every direction, and suburban Liverpool is almost destroyed. The area available for residences has always been limited to the east and south, owing to the proximity of St. Helens, Wigan, Widnes, and Garston. It would have been a wise policy if our City Fathers had set apart a sanctuary for better-class houses, from which tramways were excluded, and thus avoid driving so many large ratepayers to the Cheshire side to find a home.
My sketch of Seaforth and its neighbourhood would not be complete unless I say a word about several rather celebrated houses which existed in the district. One was Seaforth Hall, long known as "Muspratt's folly." Mr. Muspratt, who built the house, and who lived and at the age of 96 died in it, had the prescience to see that the sandhills, which he bought for a nominal price, would some day become a part of Liverpool, and he had also the enterprise to erect one of the finest houses about Liverpool. Another important house was Seafield, near Waterloo, the residence of Dr. Hicks; it was surrounded by a large park. This has since been laid out and built over, and is now known as Waterloo Park. The third interesting house was Seaforth House, the residence of Sir John Gladstone, and where his famous son spent his young days. In the 'seventies Mr. Robertson Gladstone, the brother of the Premier, had a scheme to modernise the old family house, which his brother, Mr. W. E. Gladstone, who owned the property, allowed him to carry out. Mr. Robertson Gladstone was my colleague on the Watch Committee, and he invited me to go out with him to see the alterations he was making, which I found comprised the construction of a large circular saloon in the centre of the house. This was a very fine apartment, but it ruined the rest of the house, making all the other rooms small and ill-shaped. The house never found a tenant, and some years after, when Mr. W. E. Gladstone sold his Seaforth estate, it was pulled down.
When Mr. Robert Holt was Lord Mayor, in 1893, Mr. W. E. Gladstone visited Liverpool to receive the Freedom of the City. He sent for me to the Town Hall, and said he understood I was the chairman of the Overhead Railway, and he wanted to know where we had placed our station at Seaforth. I told him it was on the south side of the old Rimrose Brook, and gave him some further particulars. He at once replied, "I remember as a boy catching what we called 'snigs' in the Rimrose Brook, and from what you tell me your station is on the north side, and as a boy I played cricket in the adjoining field, from whence in the far, far distance we could see the smoke of Liverpool." From enquiries I have made I find Mr. Gladstone's memory as to the position of the brook was more accurate than my own. It was a considerable stream and the cobble-paved highway of Crosby Road was carried over it by a high white stone bridge. Before leaving the Town Hall Mr. Gladstone asked me if I knew Seaforth House. On my saying yes, he replied, "What a mess my brother Robertson made of it!"—alluding to the incident already mentioned.
Perhaps I may here interpose another recollection of Liverpool's great son. When the late Lord Derby was Lord Mayor I was deputed to assist him when my services were required. One day he sent for me and showed me a letter he had received from Mr. Gladstone expressing his wish to address a Liverpool Town's meeting on the Bulgarian Atrocities. Mr. Gladstone, in a magazine article, had recently used strong language in reference to the Sultan of Turkey, calling him an assassin. Lord Derby considered it would not be proper for such language to be used at a Town's meeting, but he added, "Mr. Gladstone was above everything a gentleman, and if he received his promise that he would avoid strong language he would be quite satisfied and would take the chair." Mr. Gladstone at once assented. The meeting was held in Hengler's Circus. It was crowded from floor to ceiling. Mr. Gladstone arrived with Mrs. Gladstone, and after a few introductory remarks by the Lord Mayor, Mr. Gladstone rose to speak. Walking with the aid of a stick to the front of the platform, placing his stick upon the table, he clutched hold of the rails and "let himself go," and for an hour and a quarter he poured out a perfect torrent of eloquence which held the audience spellbound. It was a great oration, remarkable not so much for what he said, as for the marvellous restraint he was evidently exercising to avoid expressing himself in the forcible language which he considered the circumstances demanded. He was much exhausted after this great effort; Mrs. Gladstone had, however, some egg-flip ready, which seemed to revive him. This was Mr. Gladstone's last great speech; it was fitting it should be delivered in his native city.