Jenny’s Whim Bridge, sometime called the Wooden, and now Ebury Bridge, crosses the canal at the north end of the Commercial Road. Here was a turnpike, similarly named, till 1825. Jenny’s Whim was a very celebrated place of amusement, on the site of St. George’s Row. It was equally the resort of high and low, and with all classes was for a lengthened period a favourite place of recreation. I never could unearth the origin of the name, but presume the tradition told me by an old inhabitant was the correct account, viz., that it was so called from its first landlady, who caused the gardens to be laid out in so fantastic a manner, as to cause the expressive little noun to be affixed to the pretty and familiar christian name she bore. Angelo says it was established by a celebrated pyrotechnist in the reign of George I. The house had a large breakfast room, and the grounds, though not large, contained a bowling green, alcoves, arbours, and flower beds, with a fish pond in the centre. There was also a cock-pit; and in a pond adjacent the brutal sport of duck-hunting was carried on. This is alluded to in the following sketch, quoted from the _Connoisseur_, May 15, 1775:—“The lower sort of people have their Ranelaghs and their Vauxhalls as well as the quality. Perrot’s inimitable grotto may be seen, for only calling for a pint of beer; and the royal diversion of duck-hunting may be had into the bargain, together with a decanter of Dorchester, for your sixpence, at Jenny’s Whim.” Angelo says:—“It was much frequented, from its novelty being an inducement to allure the curious, by its amusing deceptions. Here was a large garden; in different parts were recesses, and by treading on a spring—taking you by surprise—up started different figures, some ugly enough to frighten you—a harlequin, a Mother Shipton, or some terrific animal. In a large piece of water facing the tea alcoves, large fish or mermaids were showing themselves above the surface.” Horace Walpole, in his Letters, occasionally alludes to Jenny’s Whim; in one to Montagu he spitefully says—“Here (at Vauxhall) we picked up Lord Granby, arrived very drunk from Jenny’s Whim.” Towards the close of the last century, Jenny’s Whim began to decline; its morning visitors were not so numerous, and opposition was also powerful. It gradually became forgotten, and at last sunk to the condition of a beer-house, and about 1804 the business altogether ceased.