I continued six weeks at the miller's, when the roads became too bad for the doctors to visit me, so that I was under the necessity of being carried in a sedan chair to my lodgings in Glasgow. By this time my right foot was quite well; but in my left foot, where the above-mentioned black spot appeared, there was a large wound, and it too plainly proved that the os calcis was nearly all decayed; for, the surgeon could put his probe through the centre of it. The flesh too at the bottom of my foot was quite separated from the bones and tendons, so that I was forced to submit to have it cut off. In this painful state I lay several months, reduced to a mere skeleton, taking thirty drops of laudanum every night; and, though it somewhat eased the pain in my foot, it was generally three or four in the morning before I got any rest. My situation now became truly alarming; I had a consultation of surgeons, who advised me to wait with patience for an exfoliation, when they had not the least doubt but they should soon cure my foot. At the same time they frankly acknowledged that it was impossible to ascertain the precise time when that would happen, as it might be six, or even twelve months, before it came to pass. In my emaciated condition I was certain that it was not possible for me to hold out half the time: and, knowing that I must be a very great cripple with the loss of my heel bone, I came to a deter mined resolution to have my leg taken off, and appointed the very next day for the operation; but no surgeon came near me. I sincerely believe they wished to perform a cure; but being, as I thought, the best judge of my own feelings, I was resolved this time to be guided by my own opinion; accordingly, on the 2d of May, 1770, my leg was taken off a little below the knee. Yet, notwithstanding I had so long endured the rod of affliction, misfortunes still followed me. About three hours after the amputation had been performed, and when I was quiet in bed, I found myself nearly fainting with the loss of blood; the ligatures had all given way, and the arteries had bled a considerable time before it was discovered. By this time the wound was inflamed; nevertheless, I was under the necessity of once more submitting to the operation of the needle, and the principal artery was sewed up four different times before the blood was stopped. I suffered much for two or three days, not daring to take a wink of sleep; for the moment I shut my eyes, my stump (though constantly held by the nerve) would take such convulsive motions, that I really think a stab to the heart could not be attended with greater pain. My blood too was become so very poor and thin, that it absolutely drained through

the wound near a fortnight after my leg was cut off. I lay for eighteen days and nights in one position, not daring to move, lest the ligature should again give way; but I could endure it no longer, and ventured to turn myself in bed contrary to the advice of my surgeon, which I happily effected, and never felt greater pleasure in my life. Six weeks after the amputation, I went out in a sedan chair for the benefit of the air, being exactly nine months from the day I fell into the pit. Soon after, I took lodgings in the country; where, getting plenty of warm new milk, my appetite and strength increased daily; and to this day, I bless God, I do enjoy perfect health; and I have since been the happy father of nine children.

1793, July.

GEORGE SPEARING.

LXXXVI. Against shooting Swallows, Martens, &c.

FROM the Maidstone Journal, June 18.

"At a meeting of the Kentish Society on Thursday last, the following very valuable observations were communicated by Mr. Hunt, gardener, of this town.

"A great custom has of late years prevailed in these parts among gentlemen, sportsmen, and game-keepers, of destroying the different species of martens or swallows, which entirely live upon the wing, and are only to be seen in this country during the breeding months of summer. Mr. H. remarked, that the number of these birds has, within these few years, greatly diminished, and that the present year produces infinitely less than can be remembered in any preceding one. This diminution is attributed, in part, to the wanton havoc made of them by practitioners and others with their guns, who, without reflection, destroy what Providence sent for a great purpose. By shooting the old birds, the nestlings are in consequence destroyed; which, when added to a number of the latter lost in the seas by migration for the winter, unitedly assign a just reason for their great decrease. Minute observers calculate, that one of these birds daily destroys some hundreds of moths, flies, and other insects, parents of the alarming swarms of caterpillars, grubs, &c. that of late have committed such disasters in the gardens and fields on vegetation in general. It is earnestly hoped that the above-described gentlemen will

discontinue shooting or destroying any swallow, marten, swift, or other birds, which feed in flight: their humanity and forbearance towards this valuable and inoffensive part of the feathered creation, will serve to reduce the very noxious insects which annually infest the British islands." 1793, Aug.

LXXXVII. A curious Story of an Apparition.

MR. URBAN,

Hackney, Sept. 23.

As you have inserted a remarkable story in your Magazine for May last,* I here inclose you another narrative of that kind, which undoubtedly comes as well authenticated as the testimony of an individual can render it. This memoran

dum was lately found among the papers of the Rev. Mr. Mores, late of Layton, in Essex, formerly of Queen's college, Oxford, (a gentleman of unquestionable veracity, and highly respected for his learning and abilities, who died in the year 1778.) It fell into the hands of his son, Edward Rowe Mores, Esq. who has authorised me to lay it before the public, by means of your Magazine. The MS. shall remain with you for some time, for the inspection of any gentleman who may wish to have the fullest conviction of the authenticity of so interesting a relation. The hand-writingt I believe you can testify, as you were well acquainted with the man.

Yours, &c.

J. PAYNE.

"Mr. John Bonnell, was a Commoner of Queen's college; he was remarkable in his person and his gait, and had a particular manner of holding up his gown behind, so that to any one who had but once seen him he might be known by his back as easily as by his face.

"On Sunday, November 18, 1750, at noon, Mr. Ballard, who was then of Magdalen college, and myself, were talking together at Parker's door. I was then waiting for the sound of the trumpet, and suddenly Mr. Ballard, cried out,

[* See page 447 of this volume. E.]

It is certainly Mr. Mores's. EDIT.

Lord have mercy upon me, who is that coming out of your college? I looked, and saw, as I supposed, Mr. Bonnell, and replied, He is a gentleman of our house, and his name is Bonnell; he comes from Stanton Harcourt. My God! said Mr. Ballard, I never saw such a face in all my life. I answered slightly, His face is much the same as it always is; I think it is a little more inflamed and swelled than it is sometimes, perhaps he has buckled his band too tight; but I should not have observed it if you had not spoken. Well, said Mr. Ballard again, I never shall forget him as long as I live; and seemed to be much disconcerted and frightened.

"This figure I saw without any emotion or suspicion; it came down the quadrangle, came out at the gate, and walked up the High-street; we followed it with our eyes till it came to Cat-street, where it was lost. The trumpet then sounded, and Mr. Ballard and I parted, and I went into the hall, and thought no more of Mr. Bonnell.

"In the evening the prayers of the chapel were desired for one who was in a very sick and dangerous condition. When I came out of the chapel, I inquired of one of the scholars, James Harrison, in the hearing of several others who were standing before the kitchen fire, who it was that was prayed for? and was answered, Mr. Bonnell, sen. Bonnell, sen. said I, with astonishment, what's the matter with him? he was very well to-day, for I saw him go out to dinner. You are very much mistaken, answered the scholar, for he has not been out of his bed for some days. I then asserted more positively that I had seen him, and that a gentleman was with me who saw him too.

"This came presently to the ears of Dr. Fothergill, who had been my tutor. After supper he took me aside, and questioned me about it, and said, he was very sorry I had mentioned the matter so publicly, for Mr. B. was dangerously ill. I replied, I was very sorry too, but I had done it innocently; and the next day Mr. B. died.

"Inquiry was made of Mr. Ballard afterwards, who related the part which he was witness to in the same manner as I have now related it; adding, that I told him the gentleman was one Mr. Bonnell, and that he came from Stanton Harcourt.

1783, Oct.

E. R. M."

LXXXVIII. Proposal for lending small Sums to the Industrious

MR. URBAN,

Poor.

By inserting the following Proposal in your next Magazine, you will probably further the interests of humanity, and will greatly oblige

AN OLD CORRESPONDENT.

A proposal for lending small Sums of Money for a short Time, without Interest, to virtuous and Industrious Persons labour ing under temporary Difficulties.

Various are the methods which humanity has suggested for the relief of poverty and distress, while too little attention has been paid to any plan for preventing those evils which so large a portion of mankind are born to suffer. It is certain that the unhappy transition from competence to indigence is commonly occasioned by a temporary difficulty, which might be removed by a small assistance from the hand of the benevolent, and all the consequent misery avoided. The labourer or manufacturer, whose daily industry is barely sufficient to support a numerous family, is perhaps laid on the bed of sickness, or, without any misconduct, for a short time may happen to be unemployed; his wife and children immediately want bread; and shortly after comes an unfeeling landlord, who sells the little furniture, and turns out the poor wretches either to starve or become a burthen to the parish. This fixes the destiny of the unfortunate family for the whole remainder of life; for though there is a laudable pride, even in the lowest individual, which makes him abhor the idea of being dependant on parish rates, and excites him to every exertion lest the dear little objects of his affection should be stigmatized by the badge of paupers; yet, when he finds the disgrace wholly unavoidable, and his name is once registered in the parochial records of the poor, he never strives to regain his independence, because he thinks his reputation irrecoverable.

Too often also it happens that, for a small debt, the poor man is shut up in prison great part of his life, and rendered useless to his family and the public; and, though the Society for liberating Persons confined for small Debts has been I k

VOL. III.