I have mentioned that my mother had taken a house in the principal
street; but I must now add that in the year 1804 she found it necessary
to remove into one much larger, and had therefore shifted more to the
upper part of the town. Instead of being in a row, this house was
detached, with a small garden in front and a good piece of ground at the
back, which looked down towards the river. The situation not being so
central did no harm to my mother, as she was so well known; on the
contrary, it made her even more fashionable. She now kept no shop, but
a show-room; and had not only accommodation for more workpeople, but
very handsome apartments to let. In another point it was advantageous,
which was on account of my father. At the end of the garden there was
an octangular summer-house, looking upon the river: it was a good-sized
room, boarded floor, and moreover, it had a fireplace in it, and when
shut up was very warm and comfortable. My mother made this house over
to my father as his own, to smoke and drink beer in; and my father
preferred a place in which he could sit alone with his friends, to a
public house, especially as the garden had a gate at the end of it by
which he could admit himself whenever he pleased. Here my father, Ben
the Whaler, Anderson, and others would sit, having a commanding view of
the Thames and the vessels passing and repassing--in the summer-time,
with all the windows open, and enjoying the fresh air and the fresh
smoke from their pipes--in winter-time surrounding the fire and telling
their yarns. It was an admirable arrangement, and Virginia and I always
knew where to find him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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