WHEN I came to Peterboro’ in Oct., 1833, I think our population was five or six thousand. In the month of August I came down to make arrangements for my being articled to the late Mr. Gates. I was taken charge of by my father, and protected by my sister, and we drove from Northampton, where my father was a medical man having an extensive practice, and could only spare one day. During the night a most extraordinary storm sprang up. We had to go back during that storm. There was an enormous destruction of timber on the road between here and Northampton, and in many other parts of the country. It was a storm such as very seldom rages in these latitudes in the summer months. In one part of the journey was a great avenue of trees, a considerable portion of which was destroyed. It was the property of a worthy squire, and I remember hearing it remarked, “How much Mr. So-and-So will feel the destruction of his avenue.” “Oh dear no,” said the person spoken to, “don’t you know that that property is settled property, and he has no power of cutting timber, and he will be highly delighted. He thinks the avenue is much improved, as it puts a very good sum of money into his pocket, which is very welcome to him.” You see it is an ill wind that blows nobody good. [Picture: Peterborough Market Place in the Coaching Days. (From a Print, 1836). “Peterborough has much altered since those days.”—Andrew Percival] When I got here, the first thing I saw when I looked round the town was that it was confined by toll bars. There was a toll bar just over the bridge, where the little house since converted into shops then was. At the other end of the town, on the Lincoln Road, was another toll bar; on the Thorney Road was another, and at the back of Westgate another. Our town had four gates drawn across the four entrances; on the road now known as Lincoln Road East, then Crawthorne Lane, there was a side bar to prevent anyone getting out of the town without paying contributions. One enquired what these meant, because within a mile or two on each of the main roads you would find another toll bar, at which they duly took toll, and the only villages that could get into Peterborough without paying toll were Yaxley, Farcet, and Stanground, as the turnpike road toll on that road, the old London Road, was near Norman Cross. Otherwise, our system was so ingeniously contrived that you could not get into or out of Peterborough without paying town toll at the end of the street, which were tolls for the pavement. This was rather a peculiar system. I do not wish to quote Scripture, but you will recollect the enquiry, “Of whom do the Kings of the earth take tribute? Of their own children or of strangers, and they said ‘of strangers.’ Then the comment was ‘Then are the children free!’”