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.