In the year 1816, in consequence of the high price of provisions, as mentioned in a former chapter, many persons rendered desperate by their wants, formed themselves into gangs of robbers, and committed many daring acts of depredation. Travellers were constantly stopped, ill-treated, and robbed on the roads in the vicinity of the town; and scarcely a day passed, without intelligence arriving of some house in the outskirts being attacked and plundered. To such an extent was this carried, that people commenced forming themselves into associations for their mutual protection. In Toxteth Park, this was especially the case, as several very serious robberies had been reported in that neighbourhood. It must be remembered that at that time Toxteth Park was but thinly populated. There were only a few good houses in it, occupied by highly respectable families, for the salubrious air of “the Park,” and the beautiful views of the river from many parts of it, gave it attractions to those who could live out of town. It was, amongst other things, proposed, I recollect, to have as protection, large and sonorous bells put up on the tops of the houses, so that on the least alarm of thieves, the bells might be rung to arouse the neighbours. Such precautions will be laughed at now-a-days, but something was necessary to be done at that time, when policemen were unknown, and personal protection was by no means much regarded. It was no uncommon circumstance for persons who had occasion to go out at night, to carry a brace of pistols with them; but whether they would have had courage to use them or not, I cannot say, but the fact of having such things at hand were crumbs of comfort to timid people.

I dare say many of my readers will remember having seen in old carriages and gigs, a sort of round projection at the back, forming a recess from the inside of the vehicle. These boxes were used for the purpose of depositing therein a sword and pistols, so that they might be ready at hand in case of necessity.

The extent to which robbery was committed in Liverpool at this period, may be judged by the following circumstance, which many may still remember. On the particulars being made public people were completely terrified at the state to which things had arrived, and several families living in the suburbs, seriously thought of returning to reside in the town again.

About the month of August, 1816, an old woman was seen prowling constantly about the vicinity of Mr. J. A. Yates’ house, in Toxteth Park. She made a great many inquiries about the members of that gentleman’s family, whether there were men servants in the house, and whether a dog was kept. In fact, she made herself fully acquainted with Mr. Yates’ domestic arrangements. This was thought nothing of at the time, but the old crone’s curiosity was recalled to mind after the event took place, which I shall briefly mention.

On the night of Friday, 16th August, 1816, about ten o’clock, six men wearing masks, and armed with pistols, might have been seen approaching Mr. Yates’ house. Two of them took their position outside as sentinels to give alarm to their companions, if necessary. The other four approached the back of the premises, and entered the house. Passing through the scullery they went into the kitchen, where they found a servant-maid and a footman. Threatening them with instant death if they gave any alarm, one of the four remained in the kitchen to watch the girl, while the other three compelled the footman to show them over the house. Proceeding up stairs, they encountered Mr. J. B. Yates, who was on a visit to Mr. J. A. Yates. On seeing the men approach, he inquired their business, when one of them aimed a blow at him, which, however, fortunately missed its mark, and only inflicted a slight wound on Mr. Yates’s mouth. They then ordered Mr. Yates to give up his money, which he did, fearing further violence. Driving him before them, they next entered a room, in which Mrs. J. B. Yates was sitting. They compelled her also to give up her money, watch, and the jewellery she wore. While this was going on, Mr. J. A. Yates arrived from Liverpool, and was seized by the two rascals stationed outside. They demanded his money, putting pistols to his head. Mr. Yates, however, with a good deal of nerve, rushed past the fellows, threw his watch away, and seized hold of the handle of the door bell, which he rung with considerable force. The men, however, again seized him, and told him his ringing would be of no use, as there were fellows inside who could overmaster any effort of his. But the ringing of the door-bell had seriously alarmed the party within, who were then robbing Mrs. Yates, as just mentioned. Snatching up whatever they could, which was portable and seemed of value, the fellows rushed down stairs, ordering the footman to open the hall-door. This he did, and availed himself of the opportunity of making his escape. He ran across the fields and speedily gave an alarm, but too late to be of any service; for, when assistance arrived, the thieves had decamped, taking with them about £14 in money, and a quantity of valuable plate and jewellery. The man left in the kitchen had contrived to secure the stock of plate. Four of the robbers were captured in September following, and committed to take their trial at Lancaster, where they were found guilty and sentenced to death. They were hung in October following, and it is a rather curious circumstance that the very week these men suffered the extreme penalty of the law for their misdeeds, a daring burglary was committed one night at the mill near Mr. Yates’ house, when five sacks of flour were stolen, put into a boat in waiting by the mill dam, and successfully carried off.

The Waterloo Hotel was originally Mr. Gore’s house. It was afterwards occupied by Mr. Staniforth, who was in partnership with the present Mr. Laird’s father as ropers. The roperies occupied the site of the present Arcades, and extended to Berry-street.

I recollect the Fall Well occupying the site of Mr. Alderman Bennet’s warehouse near Rose-street. It was covered over with several arches; access to it was obtained down a flight of steps. A tavern was afterwards built on its site, and was known for many years as the “Fall Well Tavern.” It stood at the corner of Rose-street at the back of the Amphitheatre. The Dye-House Well was in Greetham-street. I believe access is still obtained to the water, at least it was a few years ago. The wells on Shaw’s brow were all laid open when the alteration took place in that vicinity. One of the wells was used at an emery mill, which was once the cone of a pottery. One of the wells was found where the Library is now erected.