In 1774 the gardens at the back of the house were described as being laid out with several pleasing walks, prettily disposed, with the pond in the centre, and an avenue of trees. For the accommodation of the tea-drinkers, there were “genteel boxes” let into the hedges, and decorated with Flemish paintings. A large painting was placed at the far end of the avenue, and seemed to increase its length. Under Robert Bartholomew (who was probably proprietor until his death in 1766) White Conduit had become a popular tea-garden, and till about the end of the eighteenth century, its visitors, though never in the least people of fashion, were on the whole of a respectable class. The favourite day was Sunday in the spring and summer-time, when large numbers of holiday-folk crowded the house and gardens. The ‘City prig,’ in white satin waistcoat and scratch wig; the graver man of business, clad in brown, his wife and family, were persons of consequence here; while their dependants also spent their holiday at the same place:-- Wish’d Sunday’s come, mirth brightens ev’ry face, And paints the rose upon the housemaid’s cheek, Harriot, or Mol, more ruddy. Now the heart Of ’prentice, resident in ample street, Or alley, kennel-wash’d, Cheapside, Cornhill, Or Cranbourne, thee for calcuments renown’d, With joy distends. His meal meridian o’er With switch in hand, he to White Conduit House Hies merry-hearted. Human beings here In couples multitudinous assemble, Forming the drollest group that ever trod Fair Islingtonian plains. Male after male, Dog after dog succeeding, husbands, wives, Fathers and mothers, brothers, sisters, friends, And pretty little boys and girls. Around, Across, along the gardens’ shrubby maze They walk, they sit, they stand. What crowds press on, Eager to mount the stairs, eager to catch First vacant bench, or chair in long room plac’d. Here prig with prig holds conference polite, And indiscriminate the gaudy beau And sloven mix. Here he who all the week Took bearded mortals by the nose, or sat Weaving dead hairs, and whistling wretched strain, And eke the sturdy youth, whose trade it is Stout oxen to contund, with gold-bound hat And silken stocking strut. The red-arm’d belle Here shows her tasty gown, proud to be thought The butterfly of fashion.[136] Curtseys, bows and compliments were the order of the day. A White Conduit method of effecting an introduction was for the gallant ’prentice to tread on the lady’s train, to apologise profusely, and finally to suggest an adjournment for tea in one of the arbours. By five o’clock on a fine Sunday afternoon a seat was hardly procurable; for the tea-drinking was then in full vigour, and the famous White Conduit loaves[137] in great request.