Recollections of Old Liverpool | Page 5

insist upon my mother accepting a beautiful chain, of
Indian workmanship, to which was attached the miniature of a very
lovely woman. I doubt the rascal did not come by it very honestly,
neither was a costly bracelet that one of my father's best hands (once a
Northwich salt-flatman) brought home for my baby sister. This man
would insist upon putting it on the baby somewhere, in spite of all my
mother and the nurse could say; so, as its thigh was the nearest
approach to the bracelet in size of any of its little limbs, there the
bracelet was clasped. It fitted tightly and baby evidently did not
approve of the ornament. My mother took it off when the man left. I
have it now. This man used to tell queer stories about the salt trade, and
the fortunes made therein, and how they used to land salt on stormy and
dark nights on the Cheshire or Lancashire borders, or into boats
alongside, substituting the same weight of water as the salt taken out,
so that the cargo should pass muster at the Liverpool Custom House.
The duty was payable at the works, and the cargo was re-weighed in
Liverpool. If found over weight, the merchant had to pay extra duty;
and if short weight, he had to make up the deficiency in salt. The trade
required a large capital, and was, therefore, in few hands. One house is
known to have paid as much as 30,000 pounds for duty in six weeks.
My grandfather told me that in 1732 (time of William and Mary), when
he was a boy, the duty on salt was levied for a term of years at first, but
made perpetual in the third year of George II. Sir R. Walpole proposed
to set apart the proceeds of the impost for his majesty's use.
The Salt houses occupied the site of Orford-street (called after Mr.
Blackburne's seat in Cheshire). I have often heard my grandfather
speak of them as an intolerable nuisance, causing, at times, the town to
be enveloped in steam and smoke. These Salt houses raised such an
outcry at last that in 1703 they were removed to Garston, Mr.
Blackburne having obtained an act of Parliament relative to them for
that purpose.

The fine and coarse salts manufactured in Liverpool were in the
proportion of fifteen tons of Northwich or Cheshire rock-salt to
forty-five tons of seawater, to produce thirteen tons of salt. To show
how imperishable salt must be, if such testimony be needed, it is a fact
that, in the yard of a warehouse occupied by a friend of mine in
Orford-street, the soil was always damp previous to a change of
weather, and a well therein was of no use whatever, except for
cleansing purposes, so brackish was the water.
To return to the launch. After the feasting was over my father treated
our friends to the White House and Ranelagh Tea Gardens, which stood
at the top of Ranelagh-street. The site is now occupied by the Adelphi
Hotel. The gardens extended a long way back. Warren-street is formed
out of them. These gardens were very tastefully arranged in beds and
borders, radiating from a centre in which was a Chinese temple, which
served as an orchestra for a band to play in. Round the sides of the
garden, in a thicket of lilacs and laburnums, the beauty of which, in
early summer, was quite remarkable, were little alcoves or bowers
wherein parties took tea or stronger drinks. About half-way up the
garden, the place where the Warren-street steps are now, there used to
be a large pond or tank wherein were fish of various sorts. These fish
were so tame that they would come to the surface to be fed. This fish
feeding was a very favourite amusement with those who frequented the
garden. In the tank were some carp of immense size, and so fat they
could hardly swim. Our servant-man used to take me to the Ranelagh
Gardens every fine afternoon, as it was a favourite lounge. Over the
garden door was written--
"You are welcome to walk here I say, But if flower or fruit you pluck
One shilling you must pay."
The garden paling was carried up Copperas-hill (called after the
Copperas Works, removed in 1770, after long litigation) across to
Brownlow-hill, a white ropery extending behind the palings. To show
how remarkably neighbourhoods alter by time and circumstance, I
recollect it was said that Lord Molyneux, while hunting, once ran a
hare down Copperas-hill. A young lady, Miss Harvey, who resided near

the corner, went out to see what was the cause of the disturbance she
heard, when observing the hare, she turned it back. Miss Harvey used
to say "the gentlemen swore terribly"