PLYMOUTH
ROGER LIDSTONE, PRINTER,
GEORGE STREET.
FOOTNOTES.
[1] By the census in 1841, the population was 2757 and it is computed, at the present time, to be above 3000.
[2] This valley is at present little else than an extensive marsh, which has been redeemed from the Lary, or Laira, an estuary into which the river Plym empties itself. A dense fog, of a peculiar character, frequently rises from this valley, after sun-set, at all seasons of the year, and hangs about the adjacent hill, assuming the appearance of a white cloud.
[14] This gentleman was the medical officer for the parish; and the epidemic having been chiefly prevalent among the labouring class of people, the frequent mention of his name will be accounted for.
When it pleased God to withdraw the disease from this neighbourhood, the skilful manner in which Mr. Langworthy had treated it, and his unremitting attention to the arduous duties of his office, were duly acknowledged at a parish meeting, with an addition to his salary; and a handsome piece of plate, purchased by subscription, was presented to him. He died a few years afterwards.
[18] A supply of all those medicines, &c., which were considered to be requisite, was provided out of the subscription fund, and kept at my house; viz., castor oil, tincture of rhubarb, laudanum,—packets, of different proportions, ready made up and marked, of powdered rhubarb, carbonate of soda, powdered ginger, and calomel. Carageen moss, arrow-root, patent groats, mustard, linseed, chloride of lime, stimulating liniment, called “cholera lotion,” spirits of turpentine, spirits of salvolatile, &c. From nine to ten every morning, poor people were supplied with what they required,—some, with common remedies for slight indisposition; others, according to prescriptions which they received from their medical attendant,—all under the direction or sanction of some medical practitioner.
[42] When Sergeant Higgins was suddenly carried off by the cholera, a feeling of the deepest commiseration for his wife and children was excited among the officers and privates of the regiment. They immediately entered into a subscription, and when the sorrowing widow was about to leave the Citadel with her four young children, on her journey to Cork, they presented her with a purse containing twenty sovereigns. The poor creature was so overpowered by the conflicting feelings of grief for her loss, and gratitude for such an unexpected act of generosity, that she was unable, without assistance, to get to the waggon in which she was to travel. Some of her late husband’s comrades and their wives accompanied her; and so affecting was the parting scene, that more than one manly cheek was bedewed with tears when the sad farewell was exchanged. How soon was it realized as a last farewell!
Immediately after the funeral, I wrote to her relations at Cork, informing them of the mournful event, and requesting them to inform me what arrangements they would suggest respecting the children. The youngest, aged one year, died of the cholera in our hospital, in a fortnight after the decease of its mother. At this time, a person arrived, to take charge of the children. Before they left the workhouse, where every care had been taken of them, their relation requested to know what was due to the parish. In reply to which, he was informed, that “the last tribute of respect and Christian sympathy to a broken-hearted widow, was reserved for her helpless little orphans.” Nothing was accepted. The purse which she had with her was returned, with the contents untouched.
[45] This man and his wife had been very active and useful, as nurses, and they occupied an upstair apartment, in the same cottage with Parsons’s family.