He who undertakes to be the chronicler of Liverpool society at the commencement, and in the early years, of the present century, must not forget to mention the old and respectable families of Gildart and Golightly. And who is this easy, good-tempered soul, whom the mind’s eye now brings before us? It is Mr. William Rigg, profanely called “Billy Rigg” by his familiars. And who comes next? Henry Clay, frank, jovial, light-hearted fellow, once Mayor of Liverpool, and a generous and hospitable chief magistrate he made. And there goes that veritable ancient, Arthur Onslow, collector of customs, with a name which testifies that family interest was as strong in those days as it is in these. And now, if we go on ’Change, surely this is an original whom we see before us. His name is Brown, but among the gentlemen “on the flags” he is better known as “Muckle John.” A shrewd, sagacious man of business is he, as ever lived; and many were the stories which used to be told of his sayings and doings and somewhat sharp practice in his money transactions. “Mr. So-and-so will be my security to you,” said some gentleman one day to him. “Aye, mon, but who will be the security for the security?” was his retort. In after life we became acquainted with the celebrated “Jemmy Woods,” the Gloucester banker, and it always struck us that he strongly resembled “Muckle John” in many features of his character, especially in _crescit amor nummi quantum ipsa pecunia crescit_. The cash book seemed to be father and mother, wife and child, comfort and consolation, joy and glory of both of them. But we had reached Great Nelson-street North before we turned back again into the town. A little further on, in Everton, lived Mr. Thomas Hinde, second to none here in his day. The representatives of his family are now to be found at Lancaster. At Everton, likewise, resided Mr. Shaw, the father of Mr. Thomas Shaw; also one of the Earle family; another brother lived then, and long afterwards, at Spekelands. At St. Domingo was the mansion of Mr. Sparling. The country-houses beyond that were “few and far between.” Close to the old London-road, about two miles from Liverpool, lived Mr. Falkner, the Major of the Liverpool Light Horse. A mile or two further out was Oak-hill, the seat of Mr. Joseph Leigh, one of the most pushing and rich of our enterprising merchants, and as fine, handsome looking a fellow as you may meet with in a ten days’ journey. The march of intellect did not advance per railway in those times; and Mr. Leigh, although marvellously at home in arithmetic, compound addition, the rule of three, multiplication and so forth, had not much studied history, poetics, and the other graces, and, as by many they were then thought, exotics of education. Consequently endless were the stories told of his blunders and mistakes in the literary line when he crept up in life, and thought it necessary to come out as a Mæcenas. For instance, it was said