Post by Deleted on Oct 22, 2010 21:22:24 GMT -1
I've been doing a bit of research into the area where I live, in particular the history of Montgomerie and Fleming estates, when I chanced across this story from 1769.
From the book 'The Old Country Houses of the Old Glasgow Gentry' by
John Guthrie Smith and John Oswald Mitchell, 1878.
LIEUTENANT GEORGE SPEAKING'S ADVENTURE IN A COAL PIT.
Kelvinside and Woodside, on both sides of the Kelvin, are full of old coal pits and old coal workings, which occasionally make themselves unpleasantly known now to the owners of houses built above. One of these old coal pits, which had been abandoned and overgrown more than 100 years ago, was in the oak wood that grew till the other day on the left bank of the Kelvin, a little west of the City Bank's Bridge. Into this pit Lieutenant George Spearing fell, when netting in the wood "on Wednesday, the 13th September, 1769, between three and four o'clock in the afternoon" (as he minutely records), and there he remained till Wednesday the 20th. The pit was "exactly seventeen yards deep," but, though much bruised by the fall, the Lieutenant had no bones broken. He had no food, and only such water as he could gather, when it rained, in the hollow of a bone that he found in the pit. This water he had to dispute with a swarm of frogs and toads and slugs, but he "thought it the sweetest water he had ever tasted," and he longed for it ever after as David, in the cave of Adullam, longed for the water of the well of Bethlehem which is by the gate. Within 100 yards was the North Woodside Mill with the miller's house still nearer (both rebuilt since then), and the poor prisoner could hear the men's voices, and the horses tramp, and the cackle of the ducks and hens. But the wind blew his way, and his cries were unheard. On the Saturday he heard the voices of some boys in the woods, and shouted with all his might. They actually heard him, but they had some foolish story in their heads of a wild man being in the wood, and they ran away. Some men sent to search for him came the length of the miller's house, and there turned. But he never lost heart nor spirit : a robin red-breast, perched on a bough above, sang to him every morning, and he said the company of this little bird and his trust in providence kept him up, till on the seventh day he heard voices in the wood, and, calling out, was discovered and rescued, and conveyed to the miller's house. He would have been none the worse, but there they put hot bricks and poultices to his poor numb feet, and they brought on gangrene, and one leg had to be taken off, and he swam for his life. But he recovered at last, and lived to be the father of nine children.
The story is almost forgotten now, but it is given at full length in the Lieutenant's own words in the "Gentleman's Magazine" for 1793. It may also be found in Hugh Macdonald's "Rambles Round Glasgow," and in "Glasgow Past and Present," where there is also the account of a woman having, four years later, fallen into the same place, and been relieved three days after, not a hap'orth the worse. This terrible pit has only been filled up within the last few years. It was in that portion of the oak wood still standing west of Doune Terrace, and was known as the "Sodger's Pit." This oak wood was an addition to the Kelvinside estate, having been originally part of the lands of Woodside.
From the book 'The Old Country Houses of the Old Glasgow Gentry' by
John Guthrie Smith and John Oswald Mitchell, 1878.
LIEUTENANT GEORGE SPEAKING'S ADVENTURE IN A COAL PIT.
Kelvinside and Woodside, on both sides of the Kelvin, are full of old coal pits and old coal workings, which occasionally make themselves unpleasantly known now to the owners of houses built above. One of these old coal pits, which had been abandoned and overgrown more than 100 years ago, was in the oak wood that grew till the other day on the left bank of the Kelvin, a little west of the City Bank's Bridge. Into this pit Lieutenant George Spearing fell, when netting in the wood "on Wednesday, the 13th September, 1769, between three and four o'clock in the afternoon" (as he minutely records), and there he remained till Wednesday the 20th. The pit was "exactly seventeen yards deep," but, though much bruised by the fall, the Lieutenant had no bones broken. He had no food, and only such water as he could gather, when it rained, in the hollow of a bone that he found in the pit. This water he had to dispute with a swarm of frogs and toads and slugs, but he "thought it the sweetest water he had ever tasted," and he longed for it ever after as David, in the cave of Adullam, longed for the water of the well of Bethlehem which is by the gate. Within 100 yards was the North Woodside Mill with the miller's house still nearer (both rebuilt since then), and the poor prisoner could hear the men's voices, and the horses tramp, and the cackle of the ducks and hens. But the wind blew his way, and his cries were unheard. On the Saturday he heard the voices of some boys in the woods, and shouted with all his might. They actually heard him, but they had some foolish story in their heads of a wild man being in the wood, and they ran away. Some men sent to search for him came the length of the miller's house, and there turned. But he never lost heart nor spirit : a robin red-breast, perched on a bough above, sang to him every morning, and he said the company of this little bird and his trust in providence kept him up, till on the seventh day he heard voices in the wood, and, calling out, was discovered and rescued, and conveyed to the miller's house. He would have been none the worse, but there they put hot bricks and poultices to his poor numb feet, and they brought on gangrene, and one leg had to be taken off, and he swam for his life. But he recovered at last, and lived to be the father of nine children.
The story is almost forgotten now, but it is given at full length in the Lieutenant's own words in the "Gentleman's Magazine" for 1793. It may also be found in Hugh Macdonald's "Rambles Round Glasgow," and in "Glasgow Past and Present," where there is also the account of a woman having, four years later, fallen into the same place, and been relieved three days after, not a hap'orth the worse. This terrible pit has only been filled up within the last few years. It was in that portion of the oak wood still standing west of Doune Terrace, and was known as the "Sodger's Pit." This oak wood was an addition to the Kelvinside estate, having been originally part of the lands of Woodside.
Built in 1793
Prob my ex-boss