This was a quiet retired spot; the houses were all good, some very large, and nearly all were occupied by Quakers. Mr. William Fowler’s house, at the end, had beautiful grounds, the meadows extending to the end of the narrow walk leading to Bruce Castle. Flocks of rooks made their nests and found a shelter in the trees there. It was so peaceful, with fields on either side, with a low open iron railing. The only sound to be heard was the caw caw of the rooks who always seemed as if they had something important to discuss, and they left off reluctantly when their bedtime came.

On the North side was a row of very old and noble elm trees. By the side of the middle one stood a box which was a shelter for a “Charley.” Charleys were the precursors of policemen. One of their duties was to call out every half-hour the time, and the state of the weather. I remember hearing “half-past nine, and a fine starry night,” or “ten o’clock and a foggy night.” Their life was not altogether an enviable one. It occasionally happened that some young men, returning home rather late, thought it a joke to upset the box with the Charley inside, and there he had to stay till by some means or other he was liberated.

Many years ago there lived in one of the houses here a lady who thought and said she was unable to move from her chair. The doctor who was attending her assured her again and again that it was only her imagination. As she still persisted in refusing to try, he determined to prove to her that it was possible; so on his next visit, after talking to her for some time, he got up and rang the bell. On her asking his reason he replied he wished to speak to his coachman. When the maid came in response to the ring he requested her to send him up. The lady, in amazement said, “What can you want with your coachman in my bedroom, doctor?” He simply replied, “You will see, madam.” The man came and received the order, “Bring up a truss of straw,” which he did, and was told to put it under that lady’s chair and set light to it; but before this could be done up sprang the lady, and from that day no more was heard of her refusal to move, and the doctor congratulated himself on his success. At that time there were several doctors living in Tottenham who did not practise here, one of them being a friend of a lady living in Bruce Grove and who attended her through an illness. When she quite recovered he told her he should not be coming again for a little while as she was so much better. She told him she hoped he would continue his visits, as the truth was she had taken a fancy to him, and would like to be his wife. Unfortunately he was not of the same mind.

The Crossway Path was a pretty walk leading to Love-lane, which was a narrow lane running parallel with the High-road to White Hart-lane. Part of this lane is now Pembury-road. In 1871, when the G.E.R. bridge was erected, this path was closed.

At the corner of Bruce Grove was a lodge, and where Maitland-terrace now stands was a long and very pretty garden rented by Mr. William Janson; at the end of this he had “The Lecture Hall” built, which was used for a library and different kinds of entertainments. As the facilities for getting to town were not what they are now, it was a great boon to the neighbourhood. We spent many a pleasant evening there, but after a time it was not successful. I have been told that in its latter days the hall was engaged by some nigger minstrels for an entertainment. The evening arrived and a good audience assembled in hopes of having an enjoyable time. After waiting patiently, and as the entertainment did not commence, some one went to enquire the reason, when directly one of the performers came on the platform and sang, “We are going to skedaddle, skedaddle, skedaddle; we’re going to skedaddle away,” and then ran back into the retiring-room. The audience laughed, thinking this was part of the performance and waited still longer; but getting impatient enquiries were again made, when it was found the minstrels had been as good as their word. Not finding them in the retiring-room, some one looked out of the front door and saw the last one in the act of getting in the omnibus, which at once drove off. They took the admission money with them, and were never heard of again.

For many years this hall was then used by the Plymouth Brethren, as their place of worship. When Mr. Janson’s lease expired the hall was let to the Tottenham Constitutional Club. There used to be four houses next, with gardens in front. These were taken down and the sorting office and the London and Provincial Bank built. When this Bank was first opened the business was carried on in one of the shops in Commerce-terrace opposite.

Adjoining Bruce Grove House, where Dr. Vos now lives, is the carriage factory, the business of which was for so many years carried on by Messrs. Glover and Sons. One son had a most miraculous escape from death. During a very heavy thunderstorm, not feeling well, he went upstairs to lie down. Some time after, feeling better, he went downstairs again. He had only just left the room when a thunderbolt fell on his bed, on the very spot where he had been lying.

The private roadway at the side led to the Tottenham Brewery (then kept by Messrs. Fullagar and Freeman) and ended in Love-lane. Adjoining Charlton Cottage was the house Dr. Holt lived in; one of the two doctors then practising in Tottenham. He was succeeded by Dr. Hall, who was so well known.

But all this part is so little altered that description is unnecessary until one comes to Moulding’s Carriage Factory, which was built in the year 1871 on the ground where Messrs. Larkins, the brewers, had a kind of storehouse. This factory was burned down in 1881, and in the course of a very short time re-built.