In a short time, after having lived in a very unhappy manner, Simpson took the opportunity to sell all off, and, having shut up shop, went away with what money he could raise, determined no longer to remain in Bristol. He was now possessed of about 5000l. but his expenses were so extravagant, that this large sum was soon exhausted. He then went to the highway, committed a robbery, was apprehended, and would certainly have been hanged, had not some of his rich relations procured a reprieve. The difficulty of obtaining it may be guessed from the fact, that it arrived at Tyburn just when the rope was about his neck. Such was his obduracy, that, when returning to Newgate behind one of the sheriff’s men, the latter asked him what he thought of a reprieve when he was come to the gallows. “No more than I thought of my dying day.”
When he came to the prison-door, the turnkey refused to receive him, saying, that he was sent to be executed, and that he was discharged of him, and would not permit him to enter without a new warrant. Upon which Simpson exclaimed, “What an unhappy cast-off dog am I, that both Tyburn and Newgate should in one day refuse to entertain me! Well, I’ll mend my manners for the future, and try whether I can’t merit a reception at them both, next time I am brought thither.”
He immediately recommenced his operations, and one day robbed a gentleman of a purse full of counters, which he supposed were gold. He kept them in his pockets, always anxiously looking out for his benefactor. About four months after, he met him upon Bagshot heath, riding in a coach: “Sir,” said he, “I believe you made a mistake the last time I had the happiness of seeing you, in giving these pieces. I have been troubled ever since, lest you should have wanted them at cards, and am glad of this opportunity to return them; only, for my care, I require you to come this moment out of your coach, and give me your breeches, that I may search them at leisure, and not trust any more to your generosity, lest you should mistake again.” A pistol enforced his demand, and Simpson found a gold watch, a gold snuff-box, and ninety-eight guineas, with five jacobuses.
At another time, he robbed lord Delamere of three hundred and fifty guineas. He was almost unequalled in his depredations: in one day he robbed nineteen different people, and took above 200l.; and, in the space of six weeks, committed forty robberies in the county of Middlesex. He even ventured to attack the duke of Berwick, and took from him articles to a very great value.
But wickedness has a boundary over which it cannot pass. Simpson attacked two captains of the guards: a strong struggle ensued: his horse was shot under him, and he was wounded in both arms and one of his legs before he was taken. He was sent to Newgate, and now found that he was not refused entrance: and he soon also discovered, that Tyburn was equally ready to receive him. His execution took place on the 8th September 1686.
WILLIAM CADY.
This gentleman was a native of Norfolk county, and the son of an eminent surgeon. After the preparatory steps of education, William went to the University of Cambridge, and was tutor to lord Townshend. He was during that time made bachelor of arts, and continued to pursue his studies until deprived of his father by death.
The loss of a prudent father to a young man, forms a remarkable era in his life. If he is left with an ample fortune, he has then the means of gratifying his wishes, whether in the field of benevolence or in that of dissipation: and though left with no fortune, yet he is then at full liberty to follow his ruling inclination. Upon the intelligence of his father’s death, William went to London and began to practise medicine. His first patient was his own uncle, who, being dangerously affected with an imposthume, was cured by him in the following manner:—
When he entered his uncle’s bedchamber, his first care was to examine the state of the old gentleman’s stomach: for this purpose he ranged about the room, overturning every plate and dish, to discover what had been given him to eat. He at last discovered an old saddle, which he thought would answer for the intended experiment. Upon seeing this he cried out, “Uncle, your case is very desperate!”—“Not so bad, I hope,” said the uncle, “as to make me past remedy.”—“Heaven knows that,” cried Cady, “but a surfeit is a terrible thing, and I perceive that you have got a violent one.”—“A surfeit!” said the old gentleman; “you mistake, nephew; it is an imposthume that I am affected with.”—“The deuce it is!” replied Cady; “why, I could have sworn it had been a surfeit, for I perceive you have eaten a whole horse, and left us only the saddle!” At this he held up the saddle; and the old gentleman fell into such a fit of laughter as instantly broke his imposthume, so that he became quite well in less than a fortnight.
This is not the only instance of a disease of this nature being cured by a fit of laughter; and it is certainly an agreeable mode of being relieved of a painful and dangerous malady.