DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.70301#0189
PRESERVATION OF LIEUT. SPEARING. 167
bier was chanting his melodious strains, when my attention
was roused by a confused noise of human voices, which
seemed to be approaching fast towards the pit; I immedi-
ately called out, and most agreeably surprized several of my
acquaintance who were in search of me. Many of them are
still living in Glasgow, and it is not long since I had the
very great satisfaction of entertaining one of them at my
apartments. They told me that they had not the most dis-
tant hope of finding me alive, but wished to give my body a
decent burial, should they be so fortunate as to find it. As
soon as they heard my voice they all ran towards the pit„
and I could distinguish a well-known voice, which ex-
claimed—Good God! he is still living!” Another, though
a very honest North Briton, could not help asking me in the
Hibernian style, if I were still living. I told him I was, and
hearty too, and then gave them particular directions how to
get me out. Fortunately at that juncture a collier from a
working pit in the neighbourhood was passing along the road,
and hearing an unusual noise in the wood, his curiosity
prompted him to enquire the occasion. By his assistance
and a rope from the mill, I was soon safely landed on terra
firma. The miller’s wife had very kindly brought some milk
warm from the cow; but on my coming into the fresh air, I
grew rather faint, and could not taste it. Need I be asham-
ed to acknowledge, that the first dictates of my heart
prompted me to fall on my knees, and ejaculate a silent
thanksgiving to the God of my deliverance; since, at this
distant time, I never think of it but the tear of gratitude
starts from my eye ?
Every morning while I was in the pit I tied a knot in the
corner of my handkerchief, supposing that if I died there
and my body should be afterwards found, the number of
knots would certify how many days I had lived. Almost the
first question asked me by my friends was, how long I had
been in the pit. I immediately drew my handkerchief from
bier was chanting his melodious strains, when my attention
was roused by a confused noise of human voices, which
seemed to be approaching fast towards the pit; I immedi-
ately called out, and most agreeably surprized several of my
acquaintance who were in search of me. Many of them are
still living in Glasgow, and it is not long since I had the
very great satisfaction of entertaining one of them at my
apartments. They told me that they had not the most dis-
tant hope of finding me alive, but wished to give my body a
decent burial, should they be so fortunate as to find it. As
soon as they heard my voice they all ran towards the pit„
and I could distinguish a well-known voice, which ex-
claimed—Good God! he is still living!” Another, though
a very honest North Briton, could not help asking me in the
Hibernian style, if I were still living. I told him I was, and
hearty too, and then gave them particular directions how to
get me out. Fortunately at that juncture a collier from a
working pit in the neighbourhood was passing along the road,
and hearing an unusual noise in the wood, his curiosity
prompted him to enquire the occasion. By his assistance
and a rope from the mill, I was soon safely landed on terra
firma. The miller’s wife had very kindly brought some milk
warm from the cow; but on my coming into the fresh air, I
grew rather faint, and could not taste it. Need I be asham-
ed to acknowledge, that the first dictates of my heart
prompted me to fall on my knees, and ejaculate a silent
thanksgiving to the God of my deliverance; since, at this
distant time, I never think of it but the tear of gratitude
starts from my eye ?
Every morning while I was in the pit I tied a knot in the
corner of my handkerchief, supposing that if I died there
and my body should be afterwards found, the number of
knots would certify how many days I had lived. Almost the
first question asked me by my friends was, how long I had
been in the pit. I immediately drew my handkerchief from