STONE IN THE WHITE CONDUIT.

       Gentleman's Magazine, vol. lxxi. p. 1161, A.D. 1801.

      So much for the Conduit itself; but it, although inert, exercised a large share in the amusements of Londoners down to a comparatively recent period. It was pleasantly situated in the fields, and, until this century, during the latter half of which, the modern Babylon has become one huge mass of bricks and mortar, it served as a pleasant place of recreation for the Cits. There was an uninterrupted prospect of Hampstead and Highgate—which bounded the northern view, and which was purely pastoral, with the exception of sparsely-dotted farmhouses. There is a tradition that, on the site of the comparatively modern White Conduit House, was (in the reign of Charles I.), a tavern in the course of erection, and that, being finished, the workmen were carousing at the very moment of the monarch's decapitation.

Doubtless, in these suburban fields, there was, for very many years, a place for refreshment, which probably took the form, in the Arcadian age of the seventeenth and eighteenth century, of new milk, curds and whey, and syllabubs, for Islington was famous for its dairy produce, [24] as we know by the account of the entertainment given to Queen Elizabeth at Kenilworth Castle in 1575 by the Earl of Leicester, when the Squier Minstrel of Middlesex made a long speech in praise of Islington, whose motto was said to be, "Lactis Caseus infans."

The earliest really authentic notice of the White Conduit House, I can find, is in the Daily Advertiser August 10, 1754. "This is to acquaint the public, that, at the White Conduit House, the proprietor, for the better accommodation of the gentlemen and ladies, has completed a long walk, with a handsome circular Fish-pond, a number of shady, pleasant arbours inclosed with a fence 7 feet high to prevent being the least incommoded from the people in the fields. Hot loaves, [25] and butter every day, milk directly from the Cows; coffee and tea, and all manners of liquors in the greatest perfection: also a handsome Long Room, from whence is the most Copious prospects and airy situation of any now in vogue. I humbly hope the continuance of my friends' favours, as I make it my chief study to have the best accommodations, and am, Gentlemen and Ladies, your obliged humble servant, Robert Bartholomew. Note. My Cows eat no grains, neither any adulteration in the Milk or Cream. Bats and Balls for Cricket, and a convenient field to play in."

      This gives us a very fair insight into the sober relaxations of our great-great-grandfathers: and that the White Conduit House was, about this time, a resort for harmless recreation; and, certainly, it would rejoice the modern temperance enthusiasts to find that the principal beverages there drank were "non-intoxicants." Oliver Goldsmith used frequently to go there, walking from his house at Islington; and, in his "Citizen of the World," letter 122, he writes, "After having surveyed the Curiosities of this fair and beautiful town, I proceeded forward, leaving a fair stone building on my right; here the inhabitants of London often assemble to celebrate a feast of hot rolls and butter. Seeing such numbers, each with their little tables before them, employed on this occasion, must no doubt be a very amusing sight to the looker-on, but still more so to those who perform in the Solemnity."

      And the same story of simplicity of amusement, and refreshment, is amusingly told in the Gentleman's Magazine for May, 1760, vol. xxx. p. 242, in a short poem by William Woty, the author of the "Shrubs of Parnassus, consisting of a variety of poetical essays, moral and comic, by I. Copywell, of Lincoln's Inn, Esq. 1760."

      "And to White Conduit House

      We will go, will go, will go."

      Grub Street Register.

      "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 Cranborne, 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 groupe, 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 garden's 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 contend, with gold bound hat,

      And silken stocking strut. The red-arm'd belle

      Here shews her tasty gown, proud to be thought

      The butterfly of fashion: and, forsooth,

      Her haughty mistress deigns for once to tread

      The same unhallow'd floor. 'Tis hurry all,

      And ratling cups and saucers. Waiter here,

      And waiter there, and waiter here and there,

      At once is call'd—Joe—Joe—Joe—Joe—Joe—

      Joe on the right—and Joe upon the left,

      For ev'ry vocal pipe re-ecchoes Joe.

      Alas, poor Joe! Like Francis in the play

      He stands confounded, anxious how to please

      The many-headed throng. But shou'd I paint

      The language, humours, customs of the place,

      Together with all curtsy's lowly bows,

      And compliments extern, 'twould swell my page

      Beyond it's limits due. Suffice it then,

      For my prophetic muse to say, 'So long

      As fashion rides upon the Wing of time,

      While tea and cream, and buttered rolls can please,

      While rival beaux, and jealous belles exist,

      So long White Conduit house, shall be thy fame.

      W. W."

      Later on in the century, it was still a reputable place of resort. In 1774, there was a painting at one end of the garden, the perspective of which served, artificially, to augment its size; the round fish-pond in the centre of the garden, still existed, and the refreshment-rooms, or boxes, were hung with Flemish and other pictures.

Hone