“_Lovewit_: The neighbours tell me all here that the doors Have still been open— _Face_: How, sir! _Lovewit_: Gallants, men and women, And of all sorts, tag-rag, been seen to flock here In threwes, these ten weeks, as to a _second Hogsdon_ _In days of Pimlico and Eyebright_.” This evidence of Jonson I think conclusive that the original Ben Pimlico’s had gone. The question is where; and my reply is, to Ebury. The reasons are— 1st. We had in this locality a pathway known as the Willow Walk, and there is such yet remaining at Hoxton. 2nd. The movement of places of amusement to the western suburbs commenced in the time of James I. At this time the Exchange, Islington, and Hoxton began to lose their charms, and pleasure-folk went to Spring Garden, the Mulberry Garden, &c. Though this argument, if such it can be called, is wholly inferential, I do not think there is anything to oppose to it, unless the number of places called Pimlico {248} tells against the view taken. But here, again, the probability is that they borrowed their names from the one at Hoxton, because of its popularity; and the coincidence of the Willow Walk is moreover wanting: what I argue for is, that on the decay, for some reason or other, of Ben Pimlico’s establishment at Hoxton, he, or some one belonging to it, came to Ebury, formed his Willow Walk leading to the house, and his popularity being so great, the village became gradually to be called after him, and its ancient appellation imperceptibly lost. That part of Pimlico now in St. Paul’s district was, in the last century, a complete moral wilderness. As is apparent to the present day, the dwellings were of the meanest character; and it was only the infamous who long lived here. Jerry Abershaw lived in a house along the Willow Walk; and Maclean the highwayman, whom the ladies went to see (according to Horace Walpole), also lived on this spot. Its secure condition for persons of this description may be imagined, when it is recollected that there was, previous to 1768, no direct road to this part. The only way was from Chelsea; the road through Belgrave Place was not fit for carriages till this time. It was then completed and carried on to the Stonebridge, a bridge over the Westbourne, by the end of Wilderness Row. Parties going to Ranelagh by coach went along the King’s Road, a roadway to the left leading to the Grove; but in that day the silent highway of the Thames was much used, and as the ballad tells, the “fine city ladies” delighted in a voyage to Ranelagh or Vauxhall.