THE following particulars of a
second accident in the same North Woodside coal pit into which
Lieutenant Spearing fell in 1760, are condensed from an oral narrative
of the sufferer. The incident happened in 1773. The sufferer was a
washerwoman, who lived in the neighbourhood of North Woodside, whose
Christian name was Janet, but her surname is unknown. She had received a
quantity of linens and body habilirnents from a lady in Glasgow, to be
washed and to have the benefit of a few days’ exposure to the sun upon
the green fields of the country.
These being ready and made up into a goodly load, she
returned to Glasgow with them on her back. The lady being well pleased
with the washing and the white appearance of the linens, not only paid
Janet her full demand for her labour, but also treated her to a dram and
a fran a kebbock or skim-milk cheese, which she enclosed between two
pieces of oatmeal cake or bannock, the same being the best part of a
whole tirkle. This turned out a lucky
circumstance for Janet, who, with many thanks, after having secured her
well-earned penny in her capacious leathern pouch hanging by
her side, deposited the kebbock and the bannock in
her apron, which she tucked up like a bag, and secured it behind her
with a substantial brass pin. Thus equipped, Janet set out on her
journey home.
It was in the month of September or October, 1773,
and in the height of the nutting and brambleberry gathering season, and
upon a Saturday evening, that the accident in question occurred. The
road to Janet’s dwelling skirted the wood referred to by Mr. Spearing,
and Janet on her way home had plucked a few ripe brambleberries which
here and there had sprung up wild by the wayside of her path, when she
observed some hazel shrubs in the wood with clusters of ripe nuts on
them. She had obtained only a very few of these nuts when a cluster of
rich filberts hanging on a shrub in a thicket caught her attention.
Already had the brown tinge of autumn coloured the
tips of their outer husks, and they seemed to droop their heals as if
they tempted the hand of man to pluck them. Janet
seeing the rich prize in view, and unconscious of her danger, stepped
rashly forward and seized it; but alas! at this moment, while firmly
grasping this forbidden fruit, she fell headlong into the very
same coal pit so accurately described by Lieutenant
Spearing.
Janet was quite stunned with the fall, and for some
tune remained insensible; but, on recovering her recollection, she found
herself lying at the bottom of the pit., with the fatal cluster of
filberts still firmly grasped in her hand. Notwithstanding of the pit
being about fifty feet deep, she had received no serious injury
by her fall, and accordingly having gathered
herself up, and given her clothes a little shaking, to put them to
rights again, she began to examine consequences.
"Janet, with Scotch prudence, began, in the first
place, to examine her leather pouch, to see that none of her money had
fallen out of it in the course of her descent, and to her
great comfort she found it all safe
and snug, not a halfpenny of it having gone amissing.
"She then commenced calling loudly for assistance, in
the hope that some passers-by might
hear her cries; but her efforts were all in vain, for no one approached
her dreary abode, or heard the often—repeated and lamentable
sound of her voice. At length, wearied and fatigued with continual
vociferation, she beheld darkness approach, and then despaired of
getting any deliverance for that night; so she calmly unfolded her
apron, took a portion of the kebbock and bannock to her supper, and then
quietly composed herself to sleep. Janet made no complaint with regard
to toads, frogs, and other vile reptiles, for the truth was, that she
cosily turned up her flannel petticoat over her head, then tucked it
firmly under her chin, and so went to rest without fear or trembling.
"The next day was a Sunday, and Janet fondly hoped
that some graceless weaver, or some blackguard collier, would be
ransacking the wood for nuts, and would hear her cries; but in this she
was again mistaken, for on that day she did not hear the tread of a
single foot, or the voice of man ;
but ever and anon she distinctly heard the
distant bells of Glasgow ringing their solemn tolls before church
service began, and this brought to her mind a sad and melancholy
foreboding that these might be her funeral knell. Still, however, bright
hope never deserted her, and though she was not a religious woman,
nevertheless she inwardly prayed for assistance from Him who is the
dispenser of all good.
"Sunday passed over—a sad and melancholy day—without
a glimpse of relief, so Janet at night had again to compose herself to
sleep, in the hopes that Monday might luckily bring some person within
the reach of her voice, for this she clamorously exerted at every
rustling noise she heard, fondly hoping that such noise might be the
approach of a deliverer. Janet never made a complaint of having
undergone any inconvenience from the want of water during the time that
she remained in this dismal abode. As for food, her kebbock and bannock,
by good management, served to keep her from starving.
Monday passed over her like Sunday without a footstep
being heard in the vicinity of the pit, so that poor Janet began to
entertain the worst fears of her forlorn situation.
"On Tuesday, however, a labouring man happened to be
passing, and fortunately heard the cries of Janet. On reaching the pit
he called down to her, inquiring at her if any accident had happened ?
when Janet informed him bow she had fallen into the pit, and begged him
to procure assistance for her relief: this was immediately got, and
Janet again brought into the bright light of day, not a whit the worse
of her three nights’ immurement.
"Not long after her deliverance, a match was struck
up between Janet and her rescuer, and it would be well if the story,
like most novels, had ended in a happy marriage but unfortunately,
Janet’s hits band turned out an idle, drunken fellow, who lived upon his
wife’s industry.
"Poor Janet,when excited by his miserable drunken
habits, has been known in bitterness of heart to have exclaimed to him
that— "‘The devil himself, had certainly had a hand in bringing them
together at the mouth of the North Woodside coal pit.’
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