Captain Barclay

In his Walking dress.

PEDESTRIANISM;
OR,
AN ACCOUNT
OF
The Performances of celebrated Pedestrians
DURING
THE LAST AND PRESENT CENTURY;
WITH A FULL NARRATIVE OF
Captain Barclay’s
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE MATCHES;
AND
AN ESSAY ON TRAINING.

BY THE
AUTHOR OF THE HISTORY OF ABERDEEN,
&c. &c. &c.

ABERDEEN:
Printed by D. Chalmers and Co.

FOR A. BROWN, AND F. FROST, ABERDEEN; CONSTABLE AND CO.
AND GREIG, HIGH-STREET, EDINBURGH; LONGMAN AND
CO. PATERNOSTER-ROW; FORSYTH, 114, LEADENHALL-STREET;
AND RICE, 28, BERKELEY-SQUARE,
LONDON.

1813.

PREFACE.

At the suggestion of a few friends, the author undertook this work. His intention at first was to confine it solely to Capt. Barclay’s performances. But on farther consideration, he thought that the feats of other pedestrians might be introduced, and the plan enlarged, so as to embrace a treatise conveying information or amusement to readers in general, as well as to sporting gentlemen.

He has therefore treated of objects connected with the physical powers of man, with the view of drawing the attention of the public to the best means of strengthening and augmenting the capacities of the body. The subject he deems important, especially at a time when the physical energies of many of our countrymen are frequently brought into action by the conflicts of war.

The republics of Greece prepared their youth for the duty of the field by their gymnastic institutions; and the Romans were exercised by long marches, running, leaping, and throwing the javelin. But with the soldiers of Britain, a different system prevails. While stationed at home, they are allowed to waste their time in “indolent repose,” and prevented from taking even that degree of exercise which is requisite to health, lest they should exhaust the most trifling of their necessaries, before the return of the usual period of supply. All the advantages they might derive from a course of training, are thus sacrificed to an ill-judged economy, and to the vain show of a parade or field day.

The author has considered Exercise in a military point of view, and he thinks he cannot too strongly urge the necessity of adopting such measures for training our troops preparatory to actual service as would fit them for undergoing the hardships of the campaign.

He therefore trusts that this work may deserve the perusal of military men—no class in the community having so much occasion to prepare themselves to bear bodily fatigue, as those who are engaged in the business of war.—And, if it be fully explained, as the author hopes it is, by what expedients men may be enabled to undergo more than ordinary exertion, the subject certainly merits the consideration of the defenders of their country.

But as exercise conduces so much to the strength and soundness of both body and mind, the subjects treated in this volume, may be deemed, he presumes, of sufficient moment to deserve the attention of all classes.

The different pedestrian matches which are recorded, may serve to illustrate general principles, as they exhibit the power of the human frame; and hence conclusions of extensive utility may be deduced. But to Sporting Gentlemen this work is particularly interesting, as they will find, concisely related, the performances of the most celebrated pedestrians of the present age. And from what has been already done, they may form some opinion of what it is possible for others to accomplish; and thus regulate their bets according to the different circumstances of the cases under their review.

The author acknowledges his obligations to several gentlemen of the highest respectability, for their encouragement and patronage. To Capt. Barclay, in particular, he is much indebted, for having not only furnished the chapter on training, but also for having taken the trouble to revise the greater part of the work.

WALTER THOM.

Aberdeen, 1st Jan. 1813.

CONTENTS.

Preface, | Page 3
CHAPTER I.
On the Gymnastic Exercises of the Ancients, | 9
CHAP. II.
Modern Pedestrianism, | 33
CHAP. III.
The same subject continued, | 69
CHAP. IV.
Capt. Barclay’s Public and Private Matches, | 101
CHAP. V.
Sketches of Capt. Barclay’s Favourite Pursuits, and General Mode of Living, | 205
CHAP. VI.
On Training, | 221
CHAP. VII.
On the Physical Powers of Man, | 249
APPENDIX.
Genealogy of the Family of Barclay of Mathers and Ury, in the County of Kincardine, | 257

ERRATA.

Page 113. line 20. instead of 12 read 2 seconds. And correct the same error, p. 158.

Transcriber’s Note: These errata have been corrected.

PEDESTRIANISM.

CHAPTER I.
ON THE GYMNASTIC EXERCISES OF THE ANCIENTS.

Gymnastic exercises were held in the highest repute by the most illustrious nations of antiquity. They mingled with the sacred and political institutions of their governments, and produced consequences affecting the physical and moral character of the people.

The Games interested all Greece; and the period of their celebration was that of peace and security. The different republics, with their dependent colonies in the isles, in Asia, and Africa, furnished candidates emulous to gain the distinguished honors. Hostile states, then uniting in bonds of friendship, interchanged those favourable impressions which tend to humanize the rough nature of man; and that asperity of temper, or animosity of heart, so characteristic of rude nations, was thus softened or lulled.

The Sacred Games of the Greeks, were composed of the exhibitions of the Stadium and Hippodrome; and the charms of poetry and music were added, to gratify the more refined taste of the lovers of these exquisite arts. Philosophers, poets, historians, orators, and every description of people, assembled to witness the exertions of the combatants, and to enjoy the varied pleasures of the festival.

The Olympic games claimed precedency over all others; and to Iphitus, king of Elis, they owe their revival—for their origin is lost in the obscurity of remote ages. The Eleans obtained the direction and management, by the united consent of Greece; and their territory, on this account, was deemed inviolable. They founded their prosperity on the cultivation of peace; and, on sacred ground, raised a temple dedicated to Jupiter, which inclosed them within the pale of its protecting influence.

“The temple,” (says Strabo, lib. viii.) “stands in the Pisæan division, little less than three hundred stadia distant from Elis. Before it is a grove of wild olives, within which lies the Olympic stadium.” The temple was magnificent. It was built of beautiful marble, in the Doric order, and surrounded by a colonade[1]. It was ornamented by the finest productions of art—the genius of the sculptor and painter having adorned the sacred edifice[2]. But the Stadium was no more than a terrace of earth, the area of which was six hundred and thirty-eight feet in length. On the one side was erected the seat of the Hellanodics, or judges; and on the other, an altar of white marble, upon which the priestess of Ceres, and her virgins, had the privilege of viewing the games. At the farther extremity was the barrier, where those who contended in the SIMPLE FOOT-RACE began their course; and there also was situated the tomb of Endymion[3].

The Stadium was appropriated to the exhibition of those games denominated Gymnastic; and they consisted of five different exercises, viz.

1st, Running, or Foot-racing.

2d, Leaping.

3d, Wrestling.

4th, Throwing the Discus; and,

5th, Boxing, or Pancratia.

The FOOT-RACE was the most ancient, and claimed a pre-eminence over the other sports; the Olympiads being distinguished by the name of the victor who obtained the prize in this game.—But as our subject is particularly connected with this branch of the ancient gymnastics, we shall treat it more fully in the sequel.

Leaping consisted in projecting the body by a sudden spring, in which the competitors endeavoured to surpass each other in the length of their leap. Their bodies were poised and impelled forwards by weights of lead suspended in their hands; and it is said, that Phaulus of Cretona acquired such proficiency in this exercise as to leap fifty-two feet.

Wrestling.—This art required both strength and agility. The wrestlers were matched by lot; and the prize belonged to him who had thrice thrown his adversary on the ground. They rubbed their bodies with oil to elude the grasp, and to prevent too profuse perspiration.

Throwing the Discus.—This sport consisted in throwing a globular mass of iron, brass, or stone, under the hand, in the manner of the English quoit. It tried the strength of the arms; and the length of the cast decided the claims of the competitors.

Boxing, or the Pancratia.—This combat was performed either by the naked fist, or with the addition of the Cæstus, which was made of straps of leather, lined with metal. Boxing was one of the most dangerous of the gymnastic contests, and frequently terminated in maiming, or death.

Judges called Hellanodics were appointed to preside at the Olympic festival; and their office conveyed great authority. They inflicted corporal punishments and pecuniary penalties on those who infringed the Olympic laws: and that vast assembly of combatants and spectators, which was composed of men of every rank and degree, was thus kept in order and regularity. For ten centuries, religion and custom consecrated their powerful influence to the maintenance of the sacred games—the period of their revival by Iphitus, being seven hundred and seventy-six years before the birth of Christ. The duration of this institution shews its perfect organization, and that, while it comprized so many different states, its laws were administered with justice and impartiality.

The games were celebrated every fifth year; and the candidates for the Olympic crown, termed Athletæ, were obliged, previously, to enter their names, that they might be known to the Hellanodics, and their pretensions to the honor of competition investigated. Ten months of preparatory training were requisite; of which one was devoted to exercise in the stadium in the presence of the judges, in order to qualify the competitor for the arduous trial; and FREE citizens only, whose characters were irreproachable, and who, in other respects, had complied with the rules of the institution, were permitted to contend. So important was the prize of victory, that none but men of spotless reputation were allowed to enter the lists, which were carefully guarded against the intrusion of unworthy or improper persons.

The games lasted five days, and commenced with the FOOT-RACE, which was the first in order, and the highest in estimation of all the gymnastic exercises.

At first, the race, as instituted by Iphitus, was SIMPLE. It consisted of running once from the barrier to the goal, or from the one extremity of the stadium to the other. But in the fourteenth Olympiad, the Diaulus was introduced, which, as the word implies, was double the former distance. The runners in this race turned round the goal, and finished their course at the barrier, whence they had started. In the next Olympiad, the Dolichus, or LONG COURSE, was added, which consisted of six, twelve, or twenty-four stadia, or in doubling the goal three, six, or twelve times.

In the simple foot-race, fleetness or agility only was required; but in the long course, strength of body, and command of WIND, were indispensable to enable the candidate to gain the prize. Strength and agility are seldom united in the same person; yet there are some modern examples of the union of both; and, in antiquity, Leonidas of Rhodes obtained the triple crown, in four Olympiads, and was thus distinguished in the list of conquerors by twelve victories[4].

The competitors in the gymnastic exercises contended naked; but in the sixty-fifth Olympiad, the race of ARMED MEN was introduced, as particularly applicable to the duties of war: and, according to Pausanias, lib. v. twenty-five brass bucklers were kept in a temple at Olympia for the purpose of equipping the candidates, who wore also helmets and bucklers. Damaretus gained the first victory in this race, which in no respect differed from the stadium, or simple foot-race, but that the Athletæ were covered with armour.

While the runners waited the sound of the trumpet as the signal to start, they exercised themselves by various feats of agility, and short experimental excursions.

“They try, they rouse their speed with various arts,

“Their languid limbs they prompt to act their parts,

“And with bent hams, amid the practis’d crowd,

“They sit; now strain their lungs, and shout aloud;

“Now a short flight, with fiery steps they trace,

“And with a sudden stop abridge the mimic race.”

When the signal was given, the racers ran with amazing rapidity. They “seemed on feathered feet to fly,” and the first who arrived at the goal was declared the victor.

So highly were gymnastics estimated in Greece, that the most liberal rewards, and the most flattering honors, were bestowed on the victors, whose glory shed a lustre around their friends, their parents, and their country.

The Olympic crown was composed of the branches of the wild olive; but the pine, the parsley, and the laurel, were the symbols appropriated to the several solemnities of the sacred games at the Isthmus, Nemea, and Delphi. This reward, however, was only a pledge of the many honors, immunities, and privileges, consequent of the glory of being crowned. To excite the emulation of the competitors, these crowns were laid on a tripod which was placed in the middle of the stadium, where also were exposed branches of PALM, which the conquerors received at the same time, to carry in their hands, as emblems of their invincible vigour of body and mind[5].

The ceremony of investing the victors with this distinguished prize, was attended with great solemnity. The conquerors were called by proclamation to the tribunal of the Hellanodics, where the Herald placed a crown of olive upon the head of each of them, and gave into his hand a branch of the palm. Thus adorned with the trophies of victory, they were led along the stadium preceded by trumpets; and the herald proclaimed with a loud voice, their own names, and those of their fathers, and country; and specified the particular exercise in which each of them had gained the victory.

Although the Hellanodics could bestow no other reward than the Olive Chaplet, which was merely a symbol, yet the shouts of applause from the spectators, and the congratulations of relatives, friends, and assembled countrymen, formed a meed that gratified the ambition of the conquerors. Sacrifices were made in honor of the victors, and entertainments were given, in which they presided, or were otherwise eminently distinguished. In the Prytaneum, or town-hall of Olympia, a banqueting-room was set apart for the special purpose of entertaining them; and odes composed for the occasion were sung by a Chorus, accompanied with instrumental music[6].

There can be nothing more gratifying to laudable ambition, than the idea that great actions shall be handed down to posterity. To perpetuate, therefore, the glory of these victories, the names of the conquerors were recorded in a public register, which specified the exercise in which each had excelled: and the privilege of erecting their statues in the Sacred Grove of Jupiter, was the last and highest honor which the Hellanodics could grant to the Olympic victors.

But upon arriving in their native cities, the conquerors were far more distinguished than at Olympia; and more substantial rewards were conferred upon them. They enjoyed the honor of a triumphal entry; and temples and altars, dedicated to them, were erected at the public expense. They were thus immortalized by what was deemed the perfection of glory. “To conquer at Olympia,” says Cicero, “was greater and more glorious than to receive the honors of a Roman triumph.”

The importance which the Greeks attached to the Olympic games may be deduced from the care with which they instructed their youth in the gymnastic exercises. There was scarcely a town of any consideration in Greece, or in her colonies settled along the coasts of Asia and Africa—in the Ionian and Ægean islands—in Sicily and in Italy, in which there was not a Gymnasium, or school of exercise, maintained at the public expense.

The Gymnasia were spacious buildings, of a square or oblong form, surrounded on the outside with piazzas, and containing in the inside, a large area where the exercises were performed. Places for training in bad weather—porticoes, baths, chambers for oil and sand, with groves of trees, and seats, or benches, encompassed the stadium. The internal structure of these edifices was adapted to the convenience of those who frequented them, either for exercise or for pleasure; and they were the resort of rhetoricians, philosophers, and men of learning, who here read their lectures, held their disputations, and recited their several productions[7].

The moral and political influence of the Olympic games was acknowledged by the legislators of Greece; and accordingly, they were encouraged and protected by laws so strict, that for more than ten centuries they attracted the particular attention of the civilized world; and, amidst the revolutions of states and empires, they seemed to stand on a basis of perpetual duration. To gain the Olympic crown was the great object of solicitude, as it reflected the highest honor, not on the individual alone who obtained the prize, but also on the country which gave him birth. But to qualify the candidate for the combat, a long course of training was requisite; and in every city, the youth were instructed in the different branches of the gymnastic science, and regularly exercised by proper masters.

The republics of Greece were warlike in their constitution; and they were eager to form the bodies, as well as the minds of their youth. The importance of the athletic exercises was apparent to those who understood the nature of the human frame, which, from experience, they knew could be strengthened by the practice of the gymnasium, at the same time that the mind was invigorated by consequent health and soundness in the body. We may therefore consider the sacred games of Greece rather as a military institution, than a religious festival; and that the worship of the gods, although combined with the sports of the Stadium and Hippodrome, was only a secondary object, calculated to impress on the minds of the people a higher idea of their value and importance. In the ancient world, as well as in modern times, religion has been made a tool to promote state artifices; and the legislators of Greece knew too well the influence of superstition, to reject its powerful aid in the construction of their political establishments.

As a civil and military institution, the sacred games were attended by the happiest consequences. They presented a prize to the emulous youth, accompanied by such honors as powerfully stimulated their endeavours to acquire that proficiency in the gymnastic sports, which could only be obtained by frequent practice in the schools of their respective cities. The Athenians devoted nearly a third part of the year to such amusements; and from the number of Olympic victors whose national designations are recorded by ancient writers, we may suppose, that the other states of Greece were no less zealous in the exercises of the gymnasium[8].

To prepare men for the business of war, was the grand object of these institutions.—The Greeks were divided into small independent states, which were constantly embroiled with one another; and their strength was founded on the number and discipline of the troops they could respectively bring into the field. To increase the number of fighting men, and to train them in the most effectual manner, was, therefore, the principal object of the different governments. By learning and practising the gymnastic exercises, their youth were inured to toil, and rendered healthy, hardy, vigorous, and active. They were prepared for all the duties of war. Neither the inclemency of the weather, nor the scorching beams of the sun could affect them, as their bodies by continual exercise had become more robust, and less liable to be injured, than the natural frame of ordinary men.

The Grecian manner of fighting required both strength and agility, as the long spear of the “firm phalanx” could not be easily wielded, and the occasionally rapid marches of the Greek armies over a rugged country, sufficiently evince the utility of active habits. To the PRACTICE of the gymnasia, the Greeks owe all the glory they acquired in war; and it was the opinion of Plato, “that every well constituted republic ought, by offering prizes to the conquerors, to encourage all such exercises as tend to increase the strength and agility of the body[9].”

The admirable symmetry of the Grecian statues, establishes, beyond controversy, the just proportions and great beauty of their prototypes; and to the education of their youth, we must ascribe the fine forms of the Greek people, who, by avoiding idleness and dissipation, and by mingling exercise with amusement, created, as it were, an improved race of men. In a moral point of view, then, the gymnastics of the ancients were of the utmost importance. They furnished occupation to all those who were not engaged in laborious employments, or in the service of the state;—who were exempted from the drudgery of business by their affluent condition; and, indeed, to every man who had a vacant hour to devote to amusement or exercise. The gymnasia may be termed schools for morality, as they contributed to diminish vice, and to increase virtue: they served the double purpose of strengthening the good, and weakening the bad, propensities of human nature.

They who aimed at eminence in the gymnastic exercises were compelled to observe temperance and sobriety, which greatly promoted the health and vigour of the body. Every thing enervating was forbidden; and the pleasures of the table, or sensual indulgence of any kind, rendered the Athletæ unfit for the severe exercise of the gymnasia. Horace remarks, (Art. Poet. ver. 412,) that,

“A youth who hopes the Olympic prize to gain,

All arts must try, and ev’ry toil sustain;

Th’ extremes of heat and cold must often prove,

And shun the weak’ning joys of wine and love.”

In a voluptuous climate, the propensity to vicious indulgence is natural and powerful; but among the Greeks, it was counteracted by the firm organization which they acquired by perpetual exercise; and the universality of the games diffused among the whole people the important advantages of the institution.

Corporeal excellence, however, was not the only benefit which the Greeks derived from the Athletic exercises. The powers of the mind were also strengthened and augmented, and that courage which depends on the nerves was improved to the highest pitch. The undaunted spirit of the Greeks appalled their enemies; and the most signal exploits in the field of battle were performed by those who had previously obtained the Olympic crown[10]. The love of glory is the greatest incentive to splendid actions; and the Sacred Games fostered a passion that could easily be transferred from the gymnasia to the contests in the field. One Grecian could conquer ten Persians, for his body was robust, and his mind was brave; and Honor was the sole reward which he courted.

It is related by Herodotus, (lib. viii. c. 25.) that when Xerxes invaded Greece, he found the Grecians employed in celebrating the Olympic festival, and that the prize which they contended for, was no more than—A CHAPLET OF WILD OLIVE. Tigranes, the son of Artabanus, exclaimed, “Alas, Mardonius! against what kind of men have you led us to fight! men who engage in a contest with each other, not for gold and silver, but only for a superiority of virtue and glory!”

The physical, political, and moral influence of the gymnastic exercises on the bodies and minds of the Greeks, was thus evinced by their superior beauty and strength—their strict observance of the laws of their country—their bravery in war—and by their temperance, sobriety, and industry, in civil life.

Of all the Olympic games, the FOOT-RACE, as we have previously remarked, held the foremost rank. Homer distinguishes Achilles by the epithet “swift of foot;” and, whether as conducive to health, useful in the affairs of life, or important in the operations of war, pedestrian exercises must be considered as of the utmost consequence to mankind. The human frame is peculiarly calculated for activity and exertion; and it should be remembered, that it is by Exercise and Labour that man is enabled to preserve his health, increase his strength, improve the faculties of his mind, and procure his subsistence.

Among the ancient Greeks and Romans, there were runners of great celebrity; and the rapid marches of their armies on various emergencies, shew how much they were habituated to pedestrian exercises. Two thousand Lacedemonians marched from Sparta to Attica in three days—a distance of twelve hundred stadia—to assist the Athenians at the battle of Marathon. Phidippides ran seven hundred and fifty stadia in the space of two days, which was deemed a most extraordinary effort, until Philonides, the runner of Alexander the Great, accomplished twelve hundred stadia in one day, from Sicyone to Ellis. In the reign of Nero, a boy of nine years of age, ran seventy-five thousand paces, between noon and night[11].

Although the modern governments of Europe have not hitherto afforded any patronage to gymnastic exercises, yet pedestrianism has been brought to great perfection by spirited individuals, especially in Britain. Exploits more extraordinary than any on the records of antiquity have been accomplished in this country; and it shall be our duty in the next and succeeding chapters, to give a particular account of these astonishing performances.

CHAPTER II.
MODERN PEDESTRIANISM.

Since the remote period of Greek and Roman prosperity, nothing analagous to the Olympic games has been exhibited in Europe, if we except modern horse-racing, which bears a faint resemblance; or, perhaps, the tournaments of the middle ages, which presented a nearer similitude.

Although the art of war be now different, in some respects, from that which was practised among the ancients, it is still not less requisite in the present than in former times, to strengthen the physical and intellectual powers of the soldier. To endure the vicissitudes of climates and seasons—to bear cold, hunger, and thirst—to perform long marches under the inclemency of the weather—and to preserve his spirit unbroken amidst the tumult of the battle, are the severe duties of his profession. It is by Exercise that the soldier is gradually inured to the hardships of the field; and the importance of preparatory training was well known to the ancients, who accordingly converted the amusements of the people into a course of military discipline. The exercises of the gymnasia prepared the youth for the fatigues of the campaign, by strengthening their bodies, and invigorating their minds; and they accomplished those brilliant achievements which stand unrivalled in the page of history.

It is justly remarked by Dr. West[12], “that a wise and prudent governor of a state may dispose the people to such sports and diversions as may render them more serviceable to the public; and that, by impartially bestowing a few HONORARY PRIZES upon those who should be found to excel in any CONTEST he shall think proper to appoint, he may excite in the husbandman, the manufacturer, and the mechanic, as well as in the soldier and the sailor, and men of superior orders and professions, such an emulation as may tend to promote industry, encourage trade, improve the knowledge and wisdom of mankind, and consequently make his country victorious in war, and, in peace, opulent and happy.”

It is admitted, that the new levies in the British army are diminished more by fatigue, than by the sword of the enemy. Our regiments are gradually wasted by sickness and disease, for they are not fitted by a course of preparatory training, to undergo those hardships to which they are unavoidably exposed; and the sudden transition from a life of ease to that of great activity, too frequently proves fatal to men of feeble bodies and weak constitutions. Were the practice of the ancients imitated, by the erection of schools for gymnastic exercises, and our young soldiers subjected to a process of training, the lives of many of them would be saved to their country, and the efficient strength of our army greatly augmented.

Mr. Edgeworth, while treating on military education, says, “As to EXERCISE and AMUSEMENTS for the pupils in a military academy, they should all be calculated to promote and sustain manly dispositions. The judicious Sully recommends, in the strongest manner, to military youth, those sports and exercises which form a graceful carriage, and give strength to the limbs.”—‘I was,’ says he, ‘always of the same opinion as Henry IV. concerning these exercises. He often asserted, that they were the most solid foundation, not only of discipline, and other military virtues, but also of those noble sentiments, and that elevation of mind which gives one nation pre-eminence over another.’

“A military school should have annual competitions and prizes for foot-races, leaping, wrestling, fencing, and firing at a target. Though the prize need not be absolutely wreaths of oak or parsley, yet whatever they are, they should be more honorary than lucrative. The victors should be rewarded also with the applauses of the public, the countenance of the great, and sometimes, perhaps, with the patronage of the government.”—“All sports,” he farther observes, “without exception, that promote strength and agility, should be encouraged in our military schools[13].”

But to every man, the proper exercise of the body is an important object, as good health and spirits constitute the greatest blessing of nature, for our pleasures are derived from the capability of enjoying them. Dr. Churchill justly remarks[14], “that, in the formation of our frames, and the very nature of our constitution, it was the positive institution of Providence, to create in us an absolute necessity for exercise, in order to our well-being.” And he farther says, that “by attention to exercise, the tone and vigour of the moving powers are wonderfully increased; the nervous energy and circulation of the blood are materially accelerated; and this increased impetus of the blood through the whole system produces an effectual determination to the surface of the skin; and free perspiration is the consequence. By the same means, the body is disposed to sleep; the appetite increased; the tone of the stomach and digestive powers preserved; and the blood is determined from the internal viscera, which prevents as well as removes obstructions, and powerfully obviates the tendency to a plethoric fulness of the system. By exercise, the spirits are enlivened, and the body refreshed; or, as Hippocrates observes, it gives strength to the body, and vigour to the mind; and it is an irrefragable truth, that where it is improperly neglected, the energy and strength of the whole machine falls to decay.”

To the authority of Dr. Churchill, may be added that of the celebrated Dr. Willich, who, in the Seventh Chapter of his Lectures on Diet and Regimen, (p. 441-2,) observes, that “motion, or bodily exercise, is necessary to the preservation of health, which is promoted, while the bounds of moderation are not exceeded. Too violent exercise, or a total want of it, are attended with equal disadvantages. Much also depends on the kind of motion, and the various postures of the body.

“The essential advantages of exercise are the following: Bodily strength is increased; the circulation of the blood and all other fluids promoted; the necessary secretions and excretions are duly performed; the whole mass of the blood is cleared and refined, so that it cannot stagnate in the minutest capillary vessels; and if any obstruction should begin to take place, it will thus be effectually removed.

“That exercise is enjoined by Nature, we may learn from the whole structure of the human body; the number of muscles formed for motion; and the mechanism in the circulation of the blood itself. There are indeed no healthier people than those who take strong daily exercise. Man in a state of health is instinctively excited to muscular exertion; and children that are perfectly healthy, are constantly running about, and in almost uninterrupted motion.”

Pedestrianism affords the best species of exercise, and may be said to include much that is valuable to mankind. Those distinguished persons, therefore, who by their example, have rendered this branch of the gymnastic art FASHIONABLE and GENERAL, deserve the highest praise. To Captain Barclay, Captain Agar, Captain Acres, Lieutenant Fairman, and many other gentlemen, this country is greatly indebted for their improvement of this art. It is only the thoughtless and inconsiderate part of the community that does not discover the benefits resulting from the exploits of such celebrated professors, because they cannot estimate the ultimate consequences of individual exertion. But reflecting people must perceive that, in time, desultory efforts may be reduced into a system founded on principles calculated to strengthen and preserve both the health of our bodies, and the energy of our minds, thus facilitating the acquisition of human knowledge.

Exercise on foot is allowed to be the most natural and perfect, as it employs every part of the body, and effectually promotes the circulation of the blood through the arteries and veins.—“Walking,” says Dr. Willich[15], “the most salutary and natural exercise, is in the power of every body; and we can adapt its degree and duration to the various circumstances of health. By this exercise the appetite and perspiration are promoted; the body is kept in proper temperament; the mind is enlivened; the motion of the lungs is facilitated; and the rigidity of the legs arising from too much sitting, is relieved. The most obstinate diseases, and the most troublesome hysteric and hypochondriacal complaints, have been frequently cured by perseverance in walking.”

Pedestrian feats, even when carried to excess, are seldom attended by any pernicious effects. The exhaustion occasioned by severe exercise is only temporary; for the wearied frame is speedily recruited by the luxury of rest and refreshment. But certain rules may be observed, which will render walking both easy and agreeable. A light, yet firm and manly step, an erect posture, especially in regard to the head, the breast, and the shoulders, should be the chief objects of attainment. By care and attention a person may thus learn to walk gracefully, and with little bodily fatigue[16].

Early and constant practice gradually forms the pedestrian for the accomplishment of the greatest undertakings: but even in the common intercourse subsisting in society, facility of walking is requisite for individual conveniency and comfort. It should, therefore, be the study of people of all ranks, to adopt the best method of performing either short or long journies, by imitating the GAIT and MANNER of those celebrated men, who, of late years, have so eminently distinguished themselves in the annals of the sporting world.

The extraordinary exploits of modern pedestrians have been generally encouraged by the patronage of men of fortune and rank; and FOOT-MATCHES being made the subject of discussion, a difference of opinion gives occasion for wagers. Although it was maintained by Sir Charles Banbury, and some other eminent sportsmen, that a bet should not be taken on a FOOT-RACE; yet, in reason, there can be no legitimate objection to such things, as whatever may be deemed doubtful, or of uncertain result, must be a fair subject of betting.

Many astonishing feats of pedestrianism have been accomplished during the last and present century; but it does not suit the limits of this work to record the whole of them, or even to enumerate all the exploits of every person who has been distinguished.—We can only relate the most conspicuous performances of those who have acquired celebrity by their general success, and whose matches, either against others, or against time, have attracted public attention. It would fill volumes to particularize every WALK or RACE that exceeds the power of ordinary men; and, therefore, we shall confine our narration to matches of difficult accomplishment. Accordingly, and for the purpose of perspicuity, we have thought proper generally to arrange them into different classes.

First, Matches of several days continuance, and which required great strength and perseverance.

Secondly, Those which were accomplished in one day, and shewed great strength and agility.

Thirdly, Those which were performed in one or more hours, and required good wind, and great agility; and,

Lastly, Those completed in seconds, or in minutes, and showed great swiftness.

In accomplishing long matches against time, it must be observed, that considerable speed is fully as requisite as strength; for no man could walk a hundred miles in one day, if he were not able to go for several hours at the rate of six miles an hour; and it will be found, in general, that those who have performed great distances, were also remarkable for agility and swiftness.

Robert Bartley, of Hutford in Norfolk, who was born anno 1719, was distinguished in his youth for extraordinary speed; and, when an old man, frequently walked from Thetford to London in one day—a distance of eighty-one miles—and returned the next. He was well known among the sporting men of Newmarket as a great walker, and died in the sixty-sixth year of his age.

Reed, the noted pedestrian of Hampshire, in 1774, ran ten miles within an hour, at the Artillery Ground, London. In 1787, he walked one hundred miles in one day at Gosport; and on the sands of Weymouth, in 1791, he performed fifty miles in little more than nine hours.

In May 1762, Child, the miller of Wandsworth, walked forty-four miles in seven hours and fifty-seven minutes, on Wimbledon Common; and in August the same year, Mr. John Hague of Binns near Marsden, performed one hundred miles in twenty-three hours and fifteen minutes.

Mr. Foster Powell was the most celebrated pedestrian of his time; and in the performance of long journies has seldom been equalled.—In 1773, he walked from London to York, and back again, in six days, for a wager of one hundred guineas. In the same year, he beat Andrew Smith, a famous runner, on Barham Downs, in a match of one mile. In 1776, he ran two miles in ten and a half minutes, on the Lea-bridge road, but lost his match by half a minute. In September 1787, he walked from the Falstaff Inn at Canterbury to London Bridge, and back, in ten minutes less than twenty-four hours, being a distance of one hundred and nine miles. On the 8th June 1788, he set out from Hicks’ Hall on a second journey to York, and back again, which he accomplished in five days, nineteen hours, and fifteen minutes. In the July following, he walked one hundred miles in twenty-two hours. In 1790, he took a bet of twenty guineas to thirteen, that he would walk from London to York, and return, in five days and eighteen hours, which he performed in less time than was allowed, by one hour and fifty minutes. He was so fresh on his return, that he offered to walk a hundred miles the next day for a considerable wager. In the same year, he went from Hyde Park corner to Windsor, and back, in seven hours. In July 1792, he undertook to walk from London to York, and back, in five days and fifteen hours, which he accomplished within his time by an hour and twenty-five minutes. In 1792, when in the fifty-seventh year of his age, he offered to walk six miles in one hour; to run a mile in five minutes and a half; and to go five hundred miles in seven days. He required a bet of one hundred guineas on the last undertaking, and twenty guineas on either of the other two. But no person appearing to accept his offer, he afterwards declined all pedestrian performances for wagers.

This celebrated pedestrian was born in the year 1736, at Horsforth, near Leeds, in Yorkshire. He was bred to the profession of the law, and was clerk to an attorney in New Inn, London. He was beat by West of Windsor, in walking forty miles on the western road, for a wager of forty guineas. He was, however, a first-rate walker for either a long or a short journey; and his stature was no more than five feet eight inches; but his legs and thighs were stout, and well calculated for performances of this kind.

Mr. Joseph Edge, of Macclesfield in Cheshire, in 1806, when at the age of sixty-two, walked one hundred and seventy-two miles in forty-nine hours and twenty minutes. He started from the Angel Inn at Macclesfield, at twelve o’clock on Wednesday night, and arrived at the Swan with Two Necks, Ladlane, London, at twenty minutes past one on Saturday morning. This performance is remarkable from the age of the pedestrian, who walked at the rate of three miles, three furlongs, thirty-five perches, and 11/74ths feet per hour.

Long journies have been frequently performed at the rate of from fifty to eighty miles a day, for four, six, eight, ten, or more successive days, which have evinced the great strength and perseverance of the pedestrians.

In July 1788, John Batty, when fifty-five years of age, walked seven hundred miles in fourteen days on Richmond Course. He performed this long journey at the following rate: first day, fifty-nine miles: second, fifty-five and three-quarters: third, fifty-two and three-quarters: fourth, fifty-one: fifth, fifty-one: sixth, fifty-one: seventh, forty-three: eighth, forty-two and three-quarters: ninth, forty-four and three-quarters: tenth, fifty-one: eleventh, fifty-one: twelfth, fifty-four and a half: thirteenth, fifty-one: and on the fourteenth day, thirty-six miles and a quarter, having finished the whole distance within five hours of the time allowed.

In 1792, Mr. Eustace walked from Liverpool to London in four days. He was then seventy-seven years of age, and the distance exceeds two hundred miles. On a journey from Chester to London, when eleven years younger, he went ninety miles the first day.

Mr. Downes is well known as a first-rate pedestrian. In February 1808, he walked four hundred miles in ten days for a bet of a hundred guineas. He was greatly fatigued by the exertion; and his weight was reduced more than two stones. He performed thirty-five miles a day for twenty successive days, without much difficulty. He walked twenty miles in two hours and forty minutes, on the 11th of July 1809. He matched himself to go thirty miles in three hours and a quarter, for a bet of one hundred guineas; but the task was evidently beyond his power, and he failed in the undertaking. He was more fortunate, however, in a match with the celebrated Captain Aiken, which took place this year, on the 26th September, at Thorpe, in Hampshire. The bet was, which of them should go the greater distance in forty-eight hours. They started together at the extremities of a piece of ground of five miles, and met each other. Mr. Downes walked ninety miles the first day, and rested two hours. His adversary went eighty-eight miles, and had only an hour to rest. On the second day, Mr. Downes had accomplished seventy-two miles, and had five hours to spare. Captain Aiken had done only fifty-six in the same time, and therefore resigned the match.

In April 1808, Mr. Podgers walked four hundred miles in eight successive days, for a wager of two hundred guineas. He started at Basingstoke, and from Hampshire went into the counties of Wilts, Gloucester, Somerset, Sussex, and Kent, finishing at Maidstone. He walked twelve hours each day, and slept eight. His weight was fourteen stones, and he did not appear the least fatigued at any period of the journey.

Mr. Dowler, a publican at Towcester, Northamptonshire, walked five hundred miles in seven successive days, for a bet of one hundred guineas. He started on the 3d of November 1808, and finished on the 9th, at three o’clock in the afternoon.

Captain Howe is a celebrated pedestrian, and walked three hundred and forty-six miles in six days, for a wager of two hundred guineas. He started on the 8th of March 1808, at four in the morning, to go from London to Exeter, and made out sixty-four miles by nine at night, having stopped at Basingstoke for an hour. On the following day he walked seventy miles; and on the third day, arrived at Exeter to dinner, where he stopt three hours, but returned to Honiton to sleep. On the fourth day, he reached within nine miles of Salisbury; and on the fifth night, slept at a public house near Basingstoke. He had now forty-nine miles to perform on the sixth day, which accomplished by six o’clock in the evening. Captain Howe, on the 28th of the same month, gained a match of two hundred guineas against Captain Hewetson, having walked eighty miles in less than twenty-four hours.—He also beat Mr. Smith in a twenty mile race on the Uxbridge road, about the end of October 1809. Mr. Smith was the favourite before starting; but Captain Howe performed the distance in two hours and twenty minutes, beating his adversary by half a mile.

On the 9th of June 1812, Captain Howe undertook to go sixty miles in twelve hours for a wager of two hundred guineas. He started at four o’clock in the morning, and did half the distance in twelve minutes less than six hours. He continued at the rate of five miles in the hour, and won the match within ten minutes of the time allowed.

Mr. Canning, a gentleman in Hampshire, walked three hundred miles in less than five days. He started at the turnpike road four miles from Basingstoke, at four in the morning, and went sixty miles in fourteen hours. He finished his task two miles from Yeovil in Somersetshire, by eleven at night, on the fifth day. He was apparently so little fatigued, that probably he could have continued for several days; but in the course of the journey, he lost twenty-six pounds in weight.

Mr. Rimmington, a farmer at Holt near Dorchester, in October 1811, walked five hundred and sixty miles in seven days, at the rate of eighty miles a day, for a wager of two hundred guineas. He was much emaciated by this extraordinary exertion, and became very lame towards the close.

Lieutenant Halifax, of the Lancashire militia, walked two miles an hour for one hundred successive hours, near Tiverton in Devon, in March 1808. This was a great performance, as he could not have more than fifty minutes rest at one time, during four days and nights. He was much distressed: his legs were swollen, and his whole frame was exhausted. His courage, however, never failed him; and he completed the task amidst the shouts of the multitude that this extraordinary experiment had attracted.

Thomas Savager, who died in 1809, in the seventy-fifth year of his age, was a noted pedestrian, although only five feet and four inches in stature, and lame from his youth. In 1789, he undertook to walk four hundred and four miles, in six days. The scene of his performance was on the turnpike road from Hereford through Leominster to Ludlow; and he won his wager within five hours of the time allowed. When the superfluous ground over which he walked to his lodgings at Hereford, Ludlow, &c. was added, it was found that he had walked not less than four hundred and twenty-nine miles in five days and nineteen hours.

On the 18th of September 1811, Mr. Mealing, a gentleman of fortune in Somersetshire, started to go five hundred and forty miles, at the rate of thirty miles a day, for eighteen successive days, and to perform the distance in eighteen different counties, which he accomplished, and won five hundred guineas. He was reduced from fourteen stone eight pounds, to twelve stone four pounds.

To walk one hundred miles within twenty-four hours may be considered an extraordinary exertion; but that distance has been performed in that time by several people: and a great deal more has been accomplished by some of our most celebrated pedestrians.

Mr. Oliver, in July 1811, walked one hundred miles in twenty-three hours and fifty minutes. He was much fatigued, but that he was not entirely exhausted, was apparent from his going the last ten miles in two hours.—Mr. Edward Millen, in July the previous year, accomplished the same distance in twenty-three hours and twenty-five minutes.—But we shall have occasion afterwards to record more difficult performances than these; and, in the meantime, shall take notice of the feats of such pedestrians as have evinced uncommon strength and agility, and who have been distinguished by walking a long distance in a short time.

In September this year (1812), Jonathan Waring, a Lancashire pedestrian, performed one hundred and thirty-six miles in thirty-four hours, for a wager of one hundred guineas. He started from London to go to Northampton, and return. He went the first fifty-five miles in twelve hours, and half the distance in fourteen hours and a half. After resting an hour and a half, he started on his return, and accomplished the whole distance in three minutes less than the time allowed. He was excessively fatigued.

But Glanville, a Shropshire man, accomplished a more extraordinary performance in the year 1806. He walked one hundred and forty-two miles on the Bath road in twenty-nine hours and three-quarters. He started from the 14th mile-stone to go to the 85th, and back, at seven in the morning, on the 26th of December, and arrived at his journey’s end next day, at a quarter before one o’clock in the afternoon. He went off at the rate of six miles an hour, and reached Twyford at five minutes past ten, where he took a basin of soup. He refreshed again at Marlborough, and arrived at the 85th mile-stone at ten minutes past eight in the evening. This part of his journey was performed at the average rate of nearly five miles and a half an hour. He returned a few miles on his way back, and refreshed himself on a bed for an hour and a half, and reached Reading at a quarter past six in the morning of the 27th. He had now twenty-five miles to go in five hours and three-quarters, and appeared to be much fatigued. After remaining twenty minutes, he renewed his task, and arrived at his journey’s end at a quarter before one o’clock—winning, with great difficulty, by a quarter of an hour.

This performance is the most extraordinary upon record, and bets were seven to four, and two to one against him; but his strength and perseverance overcame every difficulty, and thus enabled him to accomplish the astonishing exploit.

On Friday, the 20th July 1804, John Bell, Esq. engaged to walk from Brook Green to Hammersmith—a distance of fifty-eight miles—in fourteen hours, for a bet of two hundred guineas; which he performed, with apparent ease, in thirteen hours, and forty-five seconds.—A distance of sixty miles was performed on the 18th of September, the same year, by a butcher of Whitechapel, in eleven hours and a quarter, for a bet of seventeen guineas.

On the 14th of August 1807, a distance of sixty-nine miles was performed near Lyndhurst, in twelve hours, by Wall, a hawker, on the Bath road. He was matched against Campbell of Dowton, Wilts, a man of local notoriety. The pedestrians started about four miles from Christ Church, at eleven o’clock, morning. By four, Wall had gone thirty-five miles. He was at the same time passed by Campbell; but having rested for half an hour, he overtook his opponent by nine o’clock. A severe struggle now ensued, and they kept together until ten; when Wall made an extraordinary push, and went nearly eight miles in the last hour, beating his adversary by a mile and a half. In this match, the winner walked five miles and three-quarters per hour on the average, including the time he refreshed, which, allowing for the distance, must be considered a very extraordinary effort.

In August 1809, Captain Walsham, of the Worcestershire regiment of militia, walked the distance of sixty miles in twelve hours, with ease; and afterwards rode thirty miles on two curricle horses, in two successive hours, for a wager of one hundred and twenty guineas.

Mr. Hopper of Canterbury, walked sixty-three miles in eleven hours and thirty-nine minutes. He started from the turnpike on St. Martin’s Hill, and at the end of the first hour he had gone seven and a half miles: second hour, eleven miles, including stoppage for breakfast: third hour, and five minutes, twenty miles: fourth hour, twenty-six miles: fifth hour, thirty-four miles: sixth hour, including dinner, thirty-five miles: seventh hour, forty-one miles: eighth hour, forty-five miles: ninth hour, fifty-one miles: tenth hour, fifty-five miles: eleventh hour, sixty miles: and at thirty-eight and three-fourth minutes past the eleventh hour, he finished sixty-three miles, apparently much fatigued.

A distance of fifty miles was performed in nine hours, on the 28th of March 1811, by Clough, a groom, on the Bath road, for a wager of fifty guineas. He regularly walked six miles an hour for the first five hours; and his average rate of travelling was five miles, one half, and one ninth part of a mile, per hour.—Eighty miles, at two starts, were performed by Shoreham, a publican, on the 22d of April the same year. He started from Paddington to go to Nettlebed, Oxfordshire, and to return. He went forty miles in six hours and a half, and after resting three hours, he accomplished the other forty miles in six hours and forty minutes, having completed the distance in thirteen hours and ten minutes, which was at the rate of more than six miles per hour.

On the 15th of April 1812, Lieut. Groats undertook for a wager of two hundred guineas to go seventy-two miles in twelve hours. He went from Blackfriars road to Canterbury, and thence back to Stroud. He performed the first fourteen miles in two hours. When he had gone sixty miles he was much fatigued, but by the aid of refreshment and rubbing, he was enabled to proceed, and accomplished the distance within six minutes of the time allowed.

Six miles per hour, for any distance from twenty-four to forty miles, must be considered as very superior walking, although several of the most celebrated pedestrians have exceeded that rate.—Mr. Pearson performed thirty-seven miles in five hours and twenty-seven minutes, for a wager of one hundred guineas. He started from Pimlico to go to Datchet-bridge near Windsor, and return, at three o’clock in the morning of the 11th July 1807. He went off on a shuffling walk, and stopt at Honslow at a quarter past four, where he refreshed. He halted again at Colnbrook, at twenty-five minutes past five, and reached Datchet-bridge in fifteen minutes; half the distance having been performed in two hours and forty minutes. As he had only gained a few minutes on time, bets were three and two to one against him; but in returning, he quickened his pace, and arrived at Honslow, at twenty-seven minutes past seven o’clock, much fatigued.

On the 13th of January 1810, William Staniland walked fifty-four miles in seven hours and three-quarters, for a wager of eighty guineas. He set off from Driffield at seven in the morning to go to Hull, where he arrived at half-past ten, and having gone round the statue in the market-place, he returned to Driffield at a quarter before three, being fifteen minutes within the time allowed.

Mr. Yardly accomplished forty-two miles in six hours and ten minutes, which was nearly at the rate of seven miles an hour on the average. He started in the morning of the 12th of June, and went twenty-one miles in three hours; nineteen miles and a half in the other three hours; and the remaining mile and a half in ten minutes.

Thomas Miller, of Cowford in Sussex, on the 7th of July 1795, walked from the market-house at Horsham to Westminster Bridge—a distance of thirty-six miles—in five hours and fifty minutes, with apparent ease.

John Jones, a Welchman, and William Williams, a Lancashire man, ran thirty miles on the Hereford road, on Monday the 12th of June 1809, for a wager of five hundred guineas. Williams had the better of his antagonist for the first twenty miles; but Jones soon after passed him, and won the race in three hours and three-quarters.

Spence, a chairman in Paisley, went from the cross of Glasgow to Edinburgh—a distance of forty-two miles—in seven hours and twenty minutes, without much apparent fatigue.

Mr. Ensor, clerk of Highgate Chapel, undertook, in September 1806, to walk twenty-six miles in four hours, for a bet of fifty guineas. He started from the first mile-stone at Hammersmith, at seven o’clock, and went the first seven miles within the hour, and accomplished the whole distance in three hours and forty-three minutes.

On the 26th of October 1805, Mr. King, an optician, undertook to walk the same distance in the same time, for a bet of thirty guineas. He started from the first mile-stone at Hammersmith, and reached the 17th, beyond Colnbrook, in one hour and fifty minutes, and returned to the place whence he had started seventeen minutes within his time, performing the whole distance in three hours and forty-three minutes.

A bet of fifty guineas having been made between Captain Hare and Mr. Cortey of Wigmore Street, that the latter should not go from Sevenoaks to Blackfriars Bridge, in two hours and forty minutes, on the 17th of April 1809;—the pedestrian started on the day appointed, and although the weather was extremely unfavourable, he did nine miles in the first hour, and eight miles and a half in the second. He had now forty minutes to perform the remaining five miles and a half; the whole distance being twenty-three miles. But the weather was so extremely severe as to beat him to a stand-still a mile from the Bricklayers’ Arms, when he resigned.

On Friday the 4th June 1807, Mr. Stevens undertook to go from the Woolpack at St. Albans, to Finsbury Square,—a distance of twenty-one miles—in three hours, for a bet of four hundred and fifty guineas. He started at a quarter before two o’clock in the morning, and arrived at his journey’s end by four. He ran in the first hour, seven miles and a half; in the second hour, ten miles; and in the last quarter, three miles and a half.

A match for twenty miles was run on the 12th September 1809, on a piece of chosen ground near Maidenhead, between Mr. Greig and Matthew Mark, for fifty guineas a side. Mark took the lead at the rate of eight miles an hour, closely followed by his antagonist. They were equal at ten miles, having performed that distance in one hour and eight minutes. They both made play here, and at nineteen miles were together; but Mr. Greig gained by two minutes only. The race throughout was well contested; and the whole distance was accomplished in two hours and twenty minutes.

Captain Thomson of the 74th regiment, while stationed at Aberdeen in the year 1808, undertook to walk twenty-one miles in three hours. He started on the 5th of May at the 7th mile-stone on the Ellon road, returning to the 4th, until he should perform the distance, which he accomplished in four minutes and a half less than the time allowed.

On the 22d of February 1812, James Watson, a glazier, for a wager of £10, went from Whitechapel Church to Romford in Essex, and back, in three hours, the distance being twenty-three miles. He started at six o’clock, and reached Romford at twenty minutes past seven. Having refreshed ten minutes, he started again on his return, and completed the distance in four minutes less than the given time.

On the 11th of February 1812, Mr. Webber undertook, for a bet of one hundred guineas, to ride nine miles within half an hour, and to run five miles in another half hour. He started at Two-mile Brook, near Colnbrook, Bucks, and performed the nine miles in a light sulky, in four minutes less than the given time. He now started on his pedestrian match, and went four miles in a few seconds less than twenty-four minutes, labouring under great distress; but he recovered his wind, and won the match in six seconds within the time.

Mr. Froward of Berkeley-street, on the 14th of April 1812, performed thirty miles in three hours and fifty-three minutes, for a wager of twenty guineas.

CHAPTER III.
THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED.

To walk or run for two or three hours at the rate of eight miles an hour, may be deemed extraordinary speed, conjoined to considerable strength and command of WIND. But more than nine miles an hour have been accomplished on a distance of twenty miles; and upwards of eight on a distance of forty.

A man named Blewet from Crewkerne, Somersetshire, for a small wager, undertook to go twenty-four miles in three hours. On the 5th of September 1808, he started at four o’clock from Shoreditch Church, and reached Theobalds in Hertfordshire, at twenty minutes past six, having stopped at Edmonton four or five minutes. He refreshed, and remained here ten minutes, when he started on his return, and after stopping again at Edmonton, arrived at the starting post at fifty-two minutes past seven. Including stoppages, Blewet, who was a young man, performed the twenty-four miles in two hours and thirty-four minutes, or at the rate of more than nine miles an hour.

Mr. Harwood performed eighteen miles in two hours, on Monday the 26th of October 1811, on the Bath road, for a wager of one hundred guineas.

Rickets, the celebrated Hampshire pedestrian, ran seventeen miles in one hour and forty-nine minutes, for a wager of five guineas. The same distance was performed on the 10th of October 1807, by a man of the name of Keeley, fifty-four years of age, in one hour and fifty-seven minutes. He started at six in the morning from Shoreditch Church to go to Ponder’s End, and back again, being allowed two hours for the performance. He reached Ponder’s End at six minutes before seven, and stopped ten minutes to refresh, when he started again, and returned within three minutes of his time.

In April the same year, a young man, named Whitlock, performed the same distance in one hour and fifty minutes. He started from Shoreditch at half-past five, and reached Ponder’s End at twenty minutes past six; stopped there to refresh ten minutes, and returned to the starting post at twenty minutes past seven o’clock, having gone, exclusive of the stoppage, at the rate of somewhat more than ten miles an hour.

Twenty miles in two hours and twenty minutes have been performed by Howe, Smith, Greig, and other celebrated pedestrians.—Eighteen miles were done in one hour and fifty-three minutes by a youth of seventeen years of age, named Bentley, on the 18th of June 1810. He started from the end of Smithfield at five, and reached Whitestone ten minutes before six. After taking some refreshment, he resumed his journey back, and arrived at the starting post at seven minutes before seven o’clock.

In October 1808, Mr. Williams, steward to Mr. Crouch of Wigmore Street, undertook to go twenty miles in two hours. He started at Hammersmith, and notwithstanding the unfavourable state of the weather, he accomplished the task in seven minutes less than the time allowed.

The distance of ten miles within an hour has been frequently performed, and a shorter distance in proportionally less time.

About the beginning of last century, Levi Whitehead of Bramham in Yorkshire, when in the twenty-second year of his age, ran four miles over Bramham-moor in nineteen minutes, which was at the rate of somewhat more than twelve miles in an hour. He was the swiftest runner of his day, and won the buck’s head for several years at Castle Howard, given by the earl of Carlisle. The five Queen Anne’s guineas given by William Aisleby, Esq. of Studley, were won by him; on which occasion he beat ten others who were selected to start against him. He lived to the age of one hundred; and in his ninety-sixth year he frequently walked from Bramham to Tadcaster, at the rate of four miles in the hour.

In the year 1771, Chr. Orton ran from Middleham to Richmond, Yorkshire, in fifty-seven minutes. The distance is ten computed miles; the road remarkably hilly; and several horses were much distressed to keep up with him.

On the 13th of July 1793, John Barrett ran ten miles on Kersal Moor, near Manchester, for a wager of twenty guineas, against Henry Wilkinson, from Warrington in Lancashire, and beat him with ease, performing the distance in fifty-seven minutes. He also, in the month of August following, beat Wilson of Tenterden in Kent, on Barham Downs, in a match of five miles, which he accomplished in twenty-seven minutes and nine seconds.

Mr. Haselden of Milton, in August 1809, undertook to go ten miles within an hour, which he performed on the Canterbury road, between Key Street and Chalkwell, with considerable ease, in fifty-three minutes;—and Mr. O’Callagan ran the same number of miles on the Edgeware road, near the village of Kilburn, in fifty-eight minutes and forty-seven seconds.

In June 1805, a match was run on the Uxbridge road, between Lieut. Warren and Mr. Bindall, an artist, for fifty guineas. The distance was seven miles; and they started at four in the morning. The lieutenant continued to lead for four miles, when Mr. Bindall passed him, and won the bet, by leaving his opponent a quarter of a mile behind, and performing the distance in thirty-five minutes.

On the 10th of December 1808, a match for five miles took place between Mr. George Frost of Horringer, and Mr. Richard Butters of Ixworth on the Newmarket road, near Bury. The race was well contested, and won by Mr. Frost, who performed the distance in thirty minutes.

In August 1805, the distance of four miles was performed in three seconds less than twenty-one minutes, by James Farrer, of Lancashire, at Knutsford, for a wager of two hundred guineas.

Captain Parfet undertook to run four miles in twenty-four minutes at four starts, the whole however to be done within three-quarters of an hour, which he accomplished on the Hampton road, on the 27th of December 1808. He ran the first mile in five minutes and a second. After waiting five minutes he did the second mile in five minutes and a half; and the third mile in six minutes and forty-nine seconds. Having rested twenty minutes, the captain started again, and performed the fourth mile in five seconds less than the time allowed. This gentleman stands only five feet four inches, and is of thick stature.

On the 21st of July 1777, Joseph Headley of Riccal near York, ran two miles on Knavesmire, in nine minutes and forty-five seconds, for a wager of one hundred guineas. About a month before, he ran four miles over the same ground in twenty-one minutes. He was allowed to be the swiftest runner at that time in the kingdom.

Joseph Beal of Welburn Moor-houses, near Castle Howard, Yorkshire, ran two miles in nine minutes and forty-eight seconds, on the York race-course, the 9th September 1811, beating Isaac Hemsworth of Bolton in Lancashire. Beal is one of the swiftest runners in the kingdom, and he challenged all England for a four-mile match. The Lancashire men accepted it, and were allowed one month to find an antagonist, and one month for training him. The noted Abraham Wood was fixed upon as the competitor of Beal. These pedestrians accordingly started about one o’clock, on Wednesday the 13th of October. Wood took the lead, and kept it for nearly a mile, when Beal passed him with ease. Wood again headed his opponent, but before he reached the two-mile post, Beal passed him, and, keeping the lead, won the race apparently with ease, beating Wood about two hundred yards, and performing the whole distance in twenty-one minutes and eighteen seconds. Beal is a youth only nineteen years of age, five feet seven inches high, and weighs no more than nine stones and seven pounds.

To run a mile within five minutes requires great agility, and none but swift runners could accomplish it, yet that distance has frequently been performed in less time.

Mr. Wallis, a gentleman residing in Jermyn Street, ran two miles in nine minutes, at two starts, in February 1808. And on the 17th of the same month, a mile was performed at one start by Mr. E. Haslern, in four minutes and fifty seconds.—Captain Anning, on the 3d of March 1809, ran a mile in the same time near Hampton, having been matched against a man named Forbes, from Eaton, whom he beat by two hundred yards.—Captain Hewetson ran two miles on the Uxbridge road, on the 21st of March 1809, at two starts, in three seconds less than ten minutes, for a bet of fifty guineas.—A mile was performed in four minutes and ten seconds, by John Todd, a Scotchman, in 1803, who ran from Hyde Park corner to the first mile-stone on the Uxbridge road.

On the 2d of May 1809, a match took place in Bayswater Fields, between Captain Dacre and Mr. Dawes, for a mile. The bet was twenty guineas on the contest between them, and another twenty that the captain should not go the distance in five minutes. They started at the fire of a pistol, and ran together until within a hundred yards of the end, when the captain made a push, and won by about two lengths, the performance having occupied four minutes and fifty-six seconds.

Mr. Francis Martin, Tewkesbury, ran half a mile in two minutes and eight seconds, for a wager of one hundred guineas. The time allowed was two minutes and a half. Bets were two to one against him at starting, but he accomplished the task apparently with ease.

On Friday the 6th July 1804, a well contested match for a mile, took place between Lord Frederic Bentinck, and the Hon. Edward Harbord, for a bet of one hundred guineas. The ground chosen, was from the second to the third mile stone on the Edgeware road; and they started about three o’clock, P. M. The race was closely run for more than half the way, when Mr. Harbord, owing to superior strength, gained considerably on his antagonist, whom he left at a great distance behind. The mile was accomplished in five minutes and a few seconds. On Tuesday following, his lordship ran a match against Mr. Mellish over the Beacon Course for fifty guineas, which he also lost by about fifty yards; Mr. Mellish having performed the distance in thirty-eight minutes and ten seconds.

On the 1st of June the following year, Mr. Harbord again entered the lists as a swift runner, against Lord F. Beauclerk. They started in Lord’s cricket-ground; but the distance being only a hundred yards, and his lordship getting the advantage at first, Mr. Harbord was unable to make up in so short a space, and lost the match by two yards.—But he afterwards ran the same distance against Mr. Lambert, whom he beat almost without a struggle. On the 15th of July 1807, Lord F. Beauclerk beat the Hon. Mr. Brand in a short race, in Lord’s cricket-ground, the latter gentleman becoming quite WINDED[17] before he had run fifty paces.

The Hon. Colonel Douglas of the Forfarshire militia, is a swift runner. He accomplished a mile within five minutes, and has performed shorter distances with great celerity.

Curley, better known by the title of the Brighton Shepherd, is a swift runner for a short space. He ran a mile at four starts in four minutes, on Clapham Common, in October 1807. He was beat, however, by Grinley the boot-closer. They ran a match, in November 1805, of one hundred and twenty yards, on the walk leading to the gates of Kensington Garden, which was accomplished in twelve seconds and a half, Grinley beating his antagonist by half a yard. On the 25th of August next year, they again ran one hundred and twenty yards at Hampton Court Green, for a bet of one hundred and twenty guineas, which Grinley also gained by two yards, performing the distance in twelve seconds. Curley was more fortunate in a match which took place on the 22d of June 1807, with Cooke the soldier, whom he beat by two yards, on a distance of one hundred and forty.

Cooke performed two hundred yards in twenty seconds, on the 19th September 1808. He entered into a match with a gentleman of the name of Williams, to run that distance in Lord’s cricket-ground, for a wager of fifty guineas. They both started at the same instant, and kept together for the first hundred yards, when Cooke took the lead until they did fifty more. Mr. Williams then came up with him, and they ran elbow to elbow for another forty yards. Cooke again took the lead, and kept it to the winning-post, beating his adversary by a yard and a half.

Lieutenant Hawkey, and Mr. Snowden of Nottingham Street, ran a well contested match on the 14th of November 1808, for a bet of fifty guineas, which was gained by the latter gentleman.—And Skewball, the famous Lancashire shepherd, performed one hundred and forty yards in twelve seconds, near Hackney, in February 1808.

Captain Aiken has acquired considerable celebrity as a swift runner, and for any distance under five miles, his performances have been seldom exceeded. He undertook three matches for fifty guineas each: 1st, To run one hundred yards within twelve seconds; 2d, To go two hundred yards in twenty-eight seconds; and, 3d, To do a quarter of a mile in one minute and twenty seconds. He started on the Uxbridge road, on the 23d of June 1809; and the first match he lost by a second; the next he won with difficulty; and the third, he gained by two seconds. He performed a quarter of a mile on the Twickenham road, in one minute and fifteen seconds; and on the 26th of July 1809, he started for two bets of twenty guineas each; first, to go a mile in five minutes, and after an interval of one minute, to run a mile against Mr. Sullivan. The first he accomplished in two seconds under the time; and the second he performed in five minutes and twenty-five seconds, beating his antagonist by about one hundred yards. In the month of November the same year, he ran four miles on a spot of ground near Maidenhead, in twenty-three minutes and fifty seconds, for a wager of one hundred guineas. On the 5th January 1810, Captain Aiken beat Mr. Athol by one hundred yards on a mile, which he performed in five minutes and twelve seconds; and on the 19th of November, he did five miles in twenty-nine minutes and fifty-four seconds, for a wager of fifty guineas. He also performed one mile and a half within eight minutes, on the 4th of March 1812, at Ashford, for a bet of one hundred guineas.

Lieutenant Fairman is a noted pedestrian, but his performances are not so astonishing as those of many others, who of late years have distinguished themselves either by their great strength, or uncommon agility. He is remarkable, however, for undergoing a great deal of fatigue without any refreshment.

He took a bet of one hundred guineas with Colonel Lockhart, that he would go sixty miles in fourteen hours, on Friday the 9th November 1804. A single mile of the race-course at Ipswich was measured off, and he started at two o’clock in the morning. He went the first seventeen miles at the rate of nearly six miles an hour, when he refreshed. He then went off in good style, and did thirty-two miles, including the stoppage, in six hours. He halted here for some time, having been rubbed down with hot towels, his feet soaked in warm water, and his body bathed all over with spirits. He shifted his clothes and breakfasted. He again started about twenty minutes before nine, to perform the remaining twenty-eight miles. He went twelve miles farther, when he halted for a few seconds, and ate a piece of bread steeped in Madeira. This stage was finished in about three hours, which left him four hours and a half to the last sixteen miles. He stopt once more at the end of ten miles, and took a small piece of bread as before. He had now only six miles to go, which he did in one hour and forty-eight minutes, accomplishing the whole distance in thirteen hours and thirty-three minutes.

During the performance of this match, Lieutenant Fairman, contrary to the practice of other pedestrians, refused to take animal food. His breakfast was tea and toast, and when he stopt to refresh, he ate only a small piece of bread steeped in Madeira.

On the 12th January 1808, he performed upwards of twenty miles in four minutes less than three hours. He started from Cumberland Gate precisely at eleven minutes past ten o’clock, to go to Harrow, and back, which he accomplished by seven minutes past one.

This gentleman’s style of walking is peculiar, and therefore deserves to be mentioned. “His arms are compressed, and pinioned close to his sides, and their weight is supported by a loop pendent from each shoulder, into which he places his thumbs.”

Lieutenant Fairman carried his pedestrian spirit into the regions of the torrid zone, and in defiance of a tropical climate and a vertical sun, he entered the list’s with a Mr. Grant, of the colony of Curacao, (August 1808) whom he completely ran down in two hours and twenty-five minutes, having gone upwards of eleven miles without halting or refreshing. His adversary, who is a native of the Indies, presumed on being able to bear the violence of the heat better than Mr. Fairman, and consequently appointed twelve o’clock mid-day, for the commencement of the contest. But he was mistaken, and obliged to acknowledge the superiority of the European pedestrian, who candidly confessed that although he had been successful, yet he experienced more distress from this performance than he had ever done in Europe, in accomplishing feats of infinitely greater speed and continuance.

Captain Agar may be considered one of the most celebrated pedestrians of the present day, either for a short or a long distance; and he lately accomplished a very arduous undertaking. On the 13th of June 1809, he matched himself for one hundred guineas, to go five miles within half an hour, and to walk, heel and toe, the first five minutes; which he performed on the Staines road with considerable ease. But his greatest feat was the accomplishment of fifty-nine miles in eight hours and a half, which took place on Tuesday the 7th of April 1812. He started from his residence in Kensington, to go to Blackwater in Hampshire, and return, for a stake of two hundred guineas. He arrived at Ashford Common in two hours and ten minutes (seventeen miles,) and refreshed at Englefield Green, in five minutes less than three hours from starting, (twenty-one miles.) He continued steadily going on until he did half the journey in four hours and four minutes. After being well rubbed, he resumed his undertaking, and went seven miles an hour tolerably true, but was much distressed during the last two hours. He completed the distance, however, winning his match by three minutes within time, so that the fifty-nine miles were accomplished in exactly eight hours and twenty-seven minutes.

Captain Agar also lately performed a very extraordinary undertaking. He matched himself for a bet of two hundred guineas to go three hundred miles in four days. He started from the Edgeware road on the 1st of June, and did ninety miles within the first twenty-four hours; eighty the second day; seventy-two the third; and fifty on the fourth day. He was much distressed during the last day’s performance.

Mr. Jaques, on the 3d of October 1807, walked fifty miles in eight hours, near Honslow Heath. He went nearly seven miles the first hour; thirteen, in two hours; twenty in three hours; and the remainder, in two hours. Half the distance was performed in three hours and fifty minutes; and Mr. Jaques won his match, quite fresh, although he appeared to be much fatigued when he had gone only thirty miles.

With the exception of Captain Barclay, Abraham Wood, of Mildrew in Lancashire, holds the first rank among pedestrians. He is a remarkably fine, tall, well-made man, and is not only a swift runner, but is also possessed of good WIND and great BOTTOM. In April 1802, he ran against John Brown of Yorkshire, four miles on the York course, for one hundred guineas, which he won in twenty minutes and twenty-one seconds. Wood was the favourite, and the bets were five to one on his success. Brown, however, five years before, (the 16th January 1797,) beat Wood in a race of four miles, near Knavesmire, by about a distance, having performed the whole in twenty-one minutes and thirty-five seconds. But some liquor having been given to Wood just before starting, he fell sick at the three-mile-stone, and, owing to this circumstance, it was supposed he lost the match. On the 23d of August 1802, he ran four miles for four hundred guineas, against William Williams of Ruglyn in Glamorganshire, over Lautrissent Course in Wales, which he won easily. Betting was even at starting, but after running two miles, twenty to one were offered on Wood.

On Monday the 14th of June 1806, a match for four hundred guineas was decided between Wood and Jonathan Powlitt, a famous Lancashire pedestrian, in favour of the former. The parties started to run five times round what is called the four-mile course at Doncaster; and for the first mile they ran elbow to elbow; after which, Wood took the lead for about forty yards, and continued so till nearly the four-mile winning post, when Powlitt made an exertion, passed him, and led for about ten yards, when Wood again took the lead, apparently with ease, and, passing his antagonist several yards, continued to leave him for the remaining three rounds.

Wood did not appear to be the least distressed, and ran the distance in fifty-one minutes and twenty-four seconds, Powlitt being nearly a minute longer. The distance was exactly nine miles, one-quarter, and three hundred yards; twice round the course at Doncaster being three miles, three quarters, and thirty-two yards.

The rounds were as under:

First time round the course, | 10 | min. | 12 | sec.
Second do. | 10 | do. | 23 | do.
Third do. | 10 | do. | 8 | do.
Fourth do. | 10 | do. | 23 | do.
Fifth do. | 10 | do. | 18 | do.
Total, | 51 | min. | 24 | sec.

Before starting, and in returning the first round, bets were two to one on Wood; in the second round, five to two, and three to one; in the third round, five and six to one; and afterwards, twenty to one on Wood.

In October following, Wood undertook to run twenty miles in two hours and a quarter, which he performed on the Brighton course with great facility in two hours, five minutes, and a few seconds. He ran the first ten miles in one hour and one minute, which turned the betting in his favour; for at starting, it was greatly against him. A few days afterwards, he ran a quarter of a mile in a minute, and performed it with apparent ease about a second within the time.

On Thursday the 16th of April 1807, this noted pedestrian ran forty miles over Newmarket heath, in four hours and fifty-six minutes, being four minutes within the time allowed to perform the match. He ran the first eight miles in forty-eight minutes, and the first twenty miles in two hours and seven minutes. The stake, it is said, was five hundred guineas; and, during the race, the odds were two and three to one in his favour. He ran without shoes or stockings, and had only a pair of flannel drawers, and a jacket upon him. He did not at any time appear to be fatigued, and few of the riders were able to keep their horses up with him.

Wood’s next sporting performance was his match with Captain Barclay, in which he failed. But as a particular account of that match shall be given, when we treat of Captain Barclay’s performances, it is not requisite at present to notice it farther. On the 12th of May 1809, Wood gained a severe and well contested race with Shipley from Nottinghamshire. It was run over Knutsford Heath—the distance four hundred and forty yards, which was performed in fifty-six seconds; and so close were the competitors, that the judges were for some time doubtful to which of them they should assign the stake, (being two hundred guineas); but finally it was determined in favour of Wood. On the 9th September 1811, Wood ran a two-mile match with Joseph Beal, which he lost, as previously mentioned in page 76.

Of all the celebrated pedestrians of the present day, Captain Barclay is deservedly the most famous, both from the variety and difficult accomplishment of his performances;—and the next Chapter shall be devoted to his astonishing exploits, of which a particular and faithful account shall be presented to the reader.

N. B.—The Author is indebted chiefly to the Sporting Magazine, which is an entertaining and valuable publication, for the particulars relative to the pedestrians whose performances are recorded in this and the previous chapter.

TABLE containing the Names of the Pedestrians, the Distances they performed, and the Time they required, with the Year of performance, &c.

|  |  |  | Dist. |  |  |  |  |
Year | Name | Miles | Yards | Days | Hrs. | Min. | Sec. | Pag.
1788 |  | Mr. John Batty, |  | 700 |  | 13 | 19 |  |  | 48
1773 |  | — Foster Powell, |  | 396 |  | 6 |  |  |  | 45
1778 |  | — Foster Powell, |  | 390 |  | 5 | 19 | 15 |  | 46
1790 |  | — Foster Powell, |  | 396 |  | 5 | 18 |  |  | 47
1792 |  | — Foster Powell, |  | 396 |  | 5 | 15 |  |  | 47
1808 |  | — Downes, |  | 400 |  | 10 |  |  |  | 49
1808 |  | — Podgers, |  | 400 |  | 8 |  |  |  | 51
1808 |  | — Dowler, |  | 500 |  | 7 |  |  |  | 51
1808 |  | — Howe, |  | 346 |  | 6 |  |  |  | 51
1809 |  | — Canning, |  | 300 |  | 5 |  |  |  | 53
1811 |  | — Rimmington, |  | 560 |  | 7 |  |  |  | 53
1811 |  | — Mealing, |  | 540 |  | 18 |  |  |  | 54
1789 |  | — Thomas Savager, |  | 429 |  | 5 | 19 |  |  | 54
1792 |  | — Eustace, |  | 200 |  | 4 |  |  |  | 49
1806 |  | — Joseph Edge, |  | 172 |  | 2 | 1 | 20 |  | 48
1806 |  | — Glanville, |  | 142 |  | 1 | 5 | 45 |  | 56
1812 |  | — Waring, |  | 136 |  | 1 | 10 |  |  | 56
1782 |  | — Eustace, |  | 90 |  | 1 |  |  |  | 49
|  | — Robert Bartley, |  | 81 |  |  | 24 |  |  | 44
1787 |  | — Reed, |  | 100 |  |  | 24 |  |  | 45
1791 |  | — Reed, |  | 50 |  |  | 9 |  |  | 45
1762 |  | — John Hague, |  | 100 |  |  | 23 | 15 |  | 45
1787 |  | — Foster Powell, |  | 109 |  |  | 23 | 50 |  | 47
1788 |  | — Foster Powell, |  | 100 |  |  | 22 |  |  | 47
1809 |  | — Downes, |  | 90 |  |  | 22 |  |  | 50
1809 |  | — Downes, |  | 72 |  |  | 19 |  |  | 50
1808 |  | — Howe, |  | 80 |  |  | 24 |  |  | 52
1812 |  | — Howe, |  | 60 |  |  | 12 |  |  | 52
1808 |  | Lieutenant Halifax, |  | 2 |  |  | 100 successive | 53
1811 |  | Mr. Oliver, |  | 100 |  |  | 23 | 50 |  | 55
1810 |  | — Edward Millen, |  | 100 |  |  | 23 | 25 |  | 55
1807 |  | — Wall, |  | 69 |  |  | 12 |  |  | 58
1809 |  | Captain Walsham, |  | 60 |  |  | 12 |  |  | 59
1809 |  | Mr. Hopper, |  | 63 |  |  | 11 | 39 |  | 59
1811 |  | — Clough, |  | 50 |  |  | 9 |  |  | 60
1811 |  | — Shoreham, |  | 80 |  |  | 13 | 10 |  | 60
1810 |  | — William Staniland, |  | 54 |  |  | 7 | 45 |  | 62
1804 |  | A Butcher of London, |  | 60 |  |  | 11 | 15 |  | 62
1804 |  | John Bell, Esq. |  | 58 |  |  | 13 |  | 45 | 58
1804 |  | Lieutenant Fairman, |  | 60 |  |  | 13 | 33 |  | 83
1812 |  | Captain Agar, |  | 59 |  |  | 8 | 27 |  | 86
1807 |  | Mr. Jaques, |  | 50 |  |  | 8 |  |  | 88
1812 |  | Lieutenant Groats, |  | 72 |  |  | 12 |  |  | 61
1774 |  | Mr. Reed, |  | 10 |  |  | 1 |  |  | 45
1762 |  | — Child, |  | 44 |  |  | 7 | 57 |  | 45
1809 |  | — Downes, |  | 20 |  |  | 2 | 40 |  | 50
1802 |  | — Howe, |  | 20 |  |  | 2 | 20 |  | 52
1807 |  | — Pearson, |  | 37 |  |  | 5 | 27 |  | 61
1810 |  | — Yeardley, |  | 42 |  |  | 6 | 10 |  | 62
1795 |  | — Thomas Miller, |  | 36 |  |  | 5 | 50 |  | 63
1809 | { | John Jones, | } | 30 |  |  | 3 | 45 |  | 63
William Williams,
1812 |  | Mr. Froward, |  | 30 |  |  | 3 | 53 |  | 67
1806 |  | — Enson Clerk, |  | 26 |  |  | 3 | 43 |  | 63
1805 |  | — King, |  | 26 |  |  | 3 | 43 |  | 64
1809 |  | — Cortey, |  | 17½ |  |  | 2 |  |  | 64
1807 |  | — Stevens, |  | 21 |  |  | 2 | 15 |  | 65
1809 |  | — Greig, |  | 20 |  |  | 2 | 20 |  | 66
1812 |  | — James Watson, |  | 23 |  |  | 2 | 56 |  | 66
1808 |  | Captain Thomson, |  | 21 |  |  | 2 | 55 |  | 66
|  | Mr. Spence, |  | 42 |  |  | 7 | 20 |  | 63
1808 |  | — Blewet, |  | 24 |  |  | 2 | 34 |  | 69
1811 |  | — Harwood, |  | 18 |  |  | 2 |  |  | 70
|  | — Rickets, |  | 17 |  |  | 1 | 49 |  | 70
1807 |  | — Keeley, |  | 17 |  |  | 1 | 37 |  | 70
1807 |  | — Whitclock, |  | 17 |  |  | 1 | 50 |  | 71
1810 |  | — Bentley, |  | 18 |  |  | 1 | 53 |  | 71
1808 |  | — Williams, |  | 20 |  |  | 1 | 53 |  | 71
1808 |  | Lieutenant Fairman, |  | 20 |  |  | 2 | 56 |  | 85
1806 |  | Abraham Wood, |  | 20 |  |  | 2 | 5 |  | 91
1807 |  | Abraham Wood, |  | 40 |  |  | 4 | 56 |  | 92
1776 |  | Mr. Foster Powell, |  | 2 |  |  |  | 10 | 30 | 47
1700 |  | — Levi Whitehead, |  | 4 |  |  |  | 19 |  | 72
1771 |  | — Chr. Orten, |  | 10 |  |  |  | 57 |  | 73
1793 |  | — John Barrett, |  | 10 |  |  |  | 57 |  | 73
1793 |  | — John Barrett, |  | 5 |  |  |  | 27 | 9 | 73
1809 |  | — Haselden, |  | 10 |  |  |  | 53 |  | 73
1809 |  | — O’Callagan, |  | 10 |  |  |  | 58 | 47 | 74
1805 |  | — Bindall, |  | 7 |  |  |  | 35 |  | 74
1805 |  | — James Farrer, |  | 4 |  |  |  | 20 | 57 | 74
1808 |  | Mr. George Frost, |  | 5 |  |  |  | 30 |  | 74
1808 |  | Captain Parfet, |  | 4 |  |  |  | 23 | 55 | 75
1777 |  | Mr. Joseph Headley, |  | 2 |  |  |  | 9 | 45 | 75
—— |  | — Joseph Headley, |  | 4 |  |  |  | 21 |  | 75
1812 |  | — Webber, |  | 4 |  |  |  | 24 |  | 67
1811 | { | Joseph Beal, | } | 2 |  |  |  | 9 | 43 | 75
Isaac Hemsworth,
1811 | { | Joseph Beal, | } | 2 |  |  |  | 21 | 18 | 76
Abraham Wood,
1808 |  | Mr. Wallis, |  | 1 |  |  |  | 9 |  | 77
1808 |  | — E. Haslern, |  | 1 |  |  |  | 4 | 50 | 77
1809 |  | Captain Anning, |  | 1 |  |  |  | 4 | 50 | 77
1809 |  | Captain Hewetson, |  | 2 |  |  |  | 9 | 57 | 77
1803 |  | Mr. John Todd, |  | 1 |  |  |  | 4 | 10 | 77
1809 | { | Captain Dacre, | } | 1 |  |  |  | 4 | 56 | 78
Mr. Dawes,
1804 | { | The Hon. Ed. Harbord, | } | 1 |  |  |  | 5 |  | 78
Lord Freder. Bentinck,
1804 | { | Mr. Mellish[A], | } |  |  |  |  | 38 | 10 | 79
Lord F. Bentinck,
1807 |  | Mr. Curley, (at 4 starts) |  | 1 |  |  |  | 4 |  | 80
1809 |  | Captain Aiken[B], |  | 1 |  |  |  | 4 | 58 | 82
| { | Captain Aiken[B], | } | 1 |  |  |  | 5 | 25 | 82
Mr. Sullivan,
|  | Hon. Colonel Douglass, |  | 1 |  |  |  | 5 |  | 80
1809 |  | Captain Aiken, |  | 4 |  |  |  | 23 | 50 | 83
1810 | { | Captain Aiken, | } | 1 |  |  |  | 5 | 12 | 83
Mr. Athol,
1810 |  | Captain Aiken, |  | 5 |  |  |  | 29 | 54 | 83
1812 |  | Captain Aiken, |  | 1 | 870 |  |  | 8 |  | 83
1809 |  | Captain Agar, |  | 5 |  |  |  | 30 |  | 86
1802 |  | Mr. Abraham Wood, |  | 4 |  |  |  | 20 | 21 | 88
1806 | { | Mr. Abraham Wood, | } | 9 | 735 |  |  | 51 | 24 | 89
— Jonathan Powlitt,
1797 | { | Mr. John Brown, | } | 4 |  |  |  | 21 | 35 | 89
— Abraham Wood,
1809 |  | Mr Francis Martin, |  |  | 870 |  |  | 2 | 8 | 78
1805 | { | Mr. Grinley, | } |  | 120 |  |  |  | 12½ | 80
— Curley,
1806 | { | — Grinley, | } |  | 120 |  |  |  | 12 | 81
— Curley,
1808 | { | — Cooke, | } |  | 200 |  |  |  | 20 | 81
— Williams,
1808 | { | Lieutenant Hawkey, | } |  |  |  |  |  |  | 81
Mr. Snowden,
1808 |  | Mr. Andrew Skewball, |  |  | 140 |  |  |  | 12 | 82
1809 |  | Captain Aiken, |  |  | 100 |  |  |  | 13 | 82
|  | Captain Aiken, |  |  | 200 |  |  |  | 28 | 82
|  | Captain Aiken, |  |  | 435 |  |  | 1 | 18 | 82
|  | Captain Aiken, |  |  | 435 |  |  | 1 | 15 | 83
1806 |  | Abraham Wood, |  |  | 435 |  |  |  | 59 | 91
1809 |  | Abraham Wood, |  |  | 440 |  |  |  | 56 | 92

[A] Over the Beacon Course.

[B] Run with one minute interval between the two starts.

CHAPTER IV.
CAPTAIN BARCLAY’S PUBLIC AND PRIVATE MATCHES.

Captain Barclay early displayed a strong predilection for the manly sports, and when only fifteen years of age, he entered into a match with a gentleman in London to walk six miles within an hour, fair TOE AND HEEL, for one hundred guineas, which he accomplished on the Croydon road, in the month of August 1796.

His next performance took place two years after, (August 1798) and he was equally successful. He matched himself against Ferguson, a celebrated walking clerk in the city, to go from Fenchurch Street, London, to the 10th mile-stone beyond Windsor, and back. Capt. Barclay performed the distance (seventy miles), notwithstanding the heat of the weather, in fourteen hours, beating the clerk several miles.

In December the year following, he accomplished one hundred and fifty miles in two days, having walked from Fenchurch Street to Birmingham, round by Cambridge. A few days afterwards, he returned in the same time by the way of Oxford.

In November 1800, he walked sixty-four miles in twelve hours, including the time requisite for taking refreshment. He started from Ury at twelve at night, and went to Ellon in Aberdeenshire, where he breakfasted, and returned by twelve mid-day. This walk was performed as a trial preparatory to a match he had undertaken to accomplish in December following. He had engaged to go ninety miles in twenty-one hours and a half, for a bet of five hundred guineas, with Mr. Fletcher of Ballingshoe, a gentleman of TURF notoriety; but unfortunately, he caught cold after one of his SWEATS while training, and became so ill, that he was unable to start on the day appointed, and the match of course was lost.

Capt. Barclay, next year, 1801, appeared very conspicuously in the annals of the sporting world. He again betted with Mr. Fletcher, that he would walk ninety miles in twenty-one and a half successive hours. The bet was two thousand guineas, and the ground chosen for the performance of the match was the line of road from Brechin to Forfar, in the county of Angus. He accomplished sixty-seven miles in thirteen hours; but having incautiously drank some brandy, he became instantly sick, and consequently unable to proceed. He now renounced the bet, and the umpire retired; but after two hours rest, he completely recovered, and could easily have finished the remainder of the distance within the time.

In June the same year, he walked from Ury to Boroughbridge in Yorkshire, in five days, a distance of three hundred miles, notwithstanding the heat of the weather, which was then very oppressive.

Although Capt. Barclay had lost two considerable bets with Mr. Fletcher of Ballingshoe, he was still confident of being able to perform ninety miles in twenty-one hours and a half; and again matched himself to go the distance within that time, for five thousand guineas, to be decided in the month of November.

He immediately went into training under Mr. Smith, an old farmer on Lord Faulconberg’s estate, who was reckoned very knowing in all sporting science, and very skilful in the best mode of training for pedestrian feats. In the month of October, he made an experimental trial in his lordship’s park, and went one hundred and ten miles in nineteen hours and twenty-seven minutes. The state of the weather was extremely unfavourable, as it rained all day, and he was up to the ancles in mud. Considering every circumstance, this performance may be deemed the greatest upon record, being at the rate of upwards of one hundred and thirty-five miles in twenty-four hours.

By the agreement, Capt. Barclay was to give Mr. Fletcher eight days notice of the day on which he was to start. The time was accordingly fixed for Tuesday the 10th of November; and the ground on which the bet was to be decided, was the space of one mile on the high road between York and Hull, about sixteen miles from the former place. The contracting parties measured the ground, and a post was fixed at the end of the mile. In turning this post, it required a pace and a half additional each mile, which were not taken into the measurement. Persons were stationed at the winning post to notch down the rounds, and to observe that every thing was done in a fair manner. On each side of the road, a number of lamps were placed for the purpose of giving light during the darkness of the night. On Monday evening, Capt. Barclay appeared on the ground, accompanied by several of his friends, a few minutes before twelve o’clock; and Mr. Fletcher also attended. Precisely at twelve, six stop watches were set, and put into a box at the winning end, which was sealed. At the same time, Capt. Barclay started. He was dressed in a flannel close shirt, flannel trowsers and night-cap, lambs’-wool stockings, and thick-soled leather shoes.

He went the two first miles in twenty-five minutes and ten seconds, and continued nearly at the same rate till he had gone sixteen miles, when he halted. The house into which he went to refresh, was situated near the right side of the course, about ten yards from the road-side, which, in going and coming, made twenty yards, not included in the measurement. He remained about ten minutes in taking refreshment and changing clothes, when he proceeded with his match, went fifteen miles more, and then refreshed and changed as before.

At seven in the morning, which was rather hazy, Capt. Barclay appeared to be somewhat dull from the dampness of the night air. Betting, however, was two to one, and five to two in his favour. After refreshing, he was more cheerful, and went sixteen miles more, with much apparent strength, going each two miles in about twenty-five minutes and twenty seconds. By eleven, he had gone fifty miles, and appeared to proceed on his course with great ease and vigour.—Betting was now four and five to one in his favour.

When he had gone sixty miles, he stopped to refresh, and change clothes. He remained about ten minutes in the house, and came out in high spirits, with much cheerfulness in his countenance. Betting was now in his favour six and seven to one. He proceeded till he had gone seventy miles, scarcely varying in regularly performing each round of two miles in twenty-five minutes and a half, when he again refreshed and changed clothes. He appeared well and strong, and resumed his match in a gallant style.

He refreshed twice more, and performed the whole distance by twenty-two minutes four seconds past eight o’clock on Tuesday evening, being one hour, seven minutes, and fifty-six seconds within the specified time.

When he had finished, he was so strong and hearty, and in fact so well, that he could have continued for several hours longer, and might have gone twenty or thirty miles farther.—Thousands of spectators on foot and on horseback, attended during the course of his walking, and he was loudly huzzaed, and carried on the shoulders of the multitude.

In August 1802, Capt. Barclay walked from Ury to Dr. Grant’s house at Kirkmichael, a distance of eighty miles, where he remained a day and night, (but without going to bed,) and came back to Ury by dinner on the third day, returning by Crathynaird, which lengthened the journey twenty miles. The roads over which he performed this journey, were extremely rugged, being through the mountainous parts of Aberdeenshire, and the distance altogether was one hundred and eighty miles.

In June next year, he undertook to run a match for a mile and a half against Burke, the celebrated pugilist, whom he beat with ease. In the month of July, he walked from Suffolk Street, Charing Cross, to Newmarket, in ten hours, in one of the hottest days of the season. The distance is sixty-four miles, and he was allowed twelve hours to perform it, which he did in two hours less.

In December following, he first appeared in the sporting world as a swift runner. He had performed long journies beyond the power of any man living, which was attributed to his great strength and bottom; but it was generally supposed that he did not possess fleetness sufficient to enable him to cope with any of the first-rate runners. The KNOWING ONES, however were deceived; for Capt. Barclay proved, that even at a very short distance, he had few competitors. He started in Hyde Park to run a quarter of a mile against Mr. John Ward, and bets were two to one in favour of his antagonist. Ward took the lead, and kept it for the first three hundred yards. Capt. Barclay then beat up, and they ran the next hundred yards neck and neck. In the last forty, Ward lost ten yards; and Capt. Barclay accomplished the whole distance, four hundred and forty yards, in fifty-six seconds,—Mr. Fletcher Reid and the Hon. B. Craven, were the umpires.

In March 1804, Capt. Barclay undertook, for a wager of two hundred guineas, to walk twenty-three miles in three hours. It was intended that he should start in Hertfordshire, and finish at the Royal Exchange, London. But unfortunately, on the day appointed he was taken ill, and consequently lost his stake. The sporting world were thus disappointed; and any odds would have been laid that he should have completed the task.

On Thursday the 16th of August, Capt. Barclay, who was then a lieutenant in the 23d regiment of foot, and quartered at East Bourne in Suffolk, engaged to run two miles in twelve minutes. He accomplished this undertaking with apparent ease, in two seconds and a half within the time. The arduousness of the task was greatly increased by the excessive rain which had fallen during the two preceding days, and a high wind that blew in his face. He ran the first mile in five minutes.

On the 18th of the following month, a match, to run one mile for one hundred guineas, was performed at East Bourne between Capt. Barclay and Capt. Marston of the 48th regiment. Both gentlemen were such celebrated pedestrians, that the race attracted some hundreds of spectators, and a great deal of money was sported. Capt. Marston being known by the regiment as a swift runner, found many to back him. They started at an early hour. Capt. Barclay suffered his competitor to take the lead, and keep it for a short distance, when he passed him, and continued a-head to the end of the race, which he accomplished in five minutes and seven seconds, notwithstanding the intense heat of the day. Mr. Fletcher Reid attended as the umpire. At the same place, Capt. Barclay ran a mile against John Ireland of Manchester, one of the swiftest runners in that quarter, on the 12th of October, for a bet of five hundred guineas. Ireland gave in at three-fourths of the mile; but Capt. Barclay performed the whole distance in four minutes and fifty seconds.

In 1805, Capt. Barclay performed two long walks, at the rate of more than six miles an hour. In March, he went from Birmingham to Wrexham in North Wales, by Shrewsbury,—a distance of seventy-two miles,—between breakfast and dinner. And in July following, he walked from Suffolk Street, Charing Cross, to Seaford in Sussex—a distance of sixty-four miles—in ten hours.

In June this year, he had entered into a match with Capt. Cook, to take place on the 19th, at Epsom course. As both gentlemen were celebrated runners, a great concourse of people assembled, among whom were many fashionable females. Capt. Cook did not make his appearance, but Capt. Barclay, more punctual to his engagements, came forward, and ran triumphantly over the ground, winning the whole of his bets, which were very considerable.

In June this year, (1806) Capt. Barclay walked from Suffolk Street, Charing Cross, to Colchester in Essex—a distance of fifty-five miles—without stopping to breakfast. In the course of the day, he rowed from Gravesend, and back.

On Monday the 4th August this year, a match took place between Capt. Barclay and Mr. Goulbourne, late of the Royal Horse Guards. The celebrity of the two gentlemen raised the expectations of all the amateurs; and the distance being only a quarter of a mile, made the odds in favour of Mr. Goulbourne, which were about six to four at starting. Capt. Barclay immediately took the lead, his opponent keeping close behind him for the first three hundred yards, which were run in great style: But here Mr. Goulbourne’s strength entirely failed him, and Capt. Barclay ran the remainder of the distance alone. He performed the whole four hundred and forty yards in one minute and two seconds.—This race was performed in Lord’s cricket ground, Mary-le-bone.

In December this year, Capt. Barclay accomplished the arduous performance of one hundred miles in nineteen hours, over the worst road in the kingdom, and just at the break of a severe storm. He started from Ury to go to Crathynaird, and back. He went to Charlton of Aboyne, (twenty-eight miles) in four hours, where he stopped ten minutes; then went forward to Crathynaird, (twenty-two miles,) where he remained fifty minutes. He then returned to Charlton, where he refreshed for thirty minutes, when he proceeded to Ury, and completed the whole distance in nineteen hours. Exclusive of stoppages, the distance was performed in seventeen hours and a half, or at the rate of about five miles and three-quarters each hour, on the average.

Capt. Barclay was attended in this walk by his servant, William Cross, who also performed the distance in the same time. In the month of December 1808, Cross walked one hundred miles in nineteen hours and seventeen minutes on the Aberdeen road, near Stonehaven. He stands five feet and eight inches, is well made, and active, and may be considered a first-rate pedestrian.

In May next year, (1807,) Capt. Barclay walked seventy-eight miles in fourteen hours, over the hilly roads of Aberdeenshire. He left Ury at two o’clock morning, to attend a sale of cattle at a place four miles beyond the Boat of Forbes on the Don, a river in Aberdeenshire, where he remained five hours, but walked in the fields several miles, and returned home by nine at night.—In this year, his famous match, for two hundred guineas, with Abraham Wood, the celebrated Lancashire pedestrian, took place.

It was settled in the month of July, that the parties were to go as great a distance as they could in twenty-four hours—and Capt. Barclay was to be allowed twenty miles at starting—to be decided at Newmarket on the following 12th of October—play or pay.

On the day appointed, this match attracted the greatest concourse of people ever assembled at Newmarket, in the memory of the oldest inhabitant. Carriages of every description were innumerable, from the barouche and four, to the dicky cart, and the horsemen and pedestrians exceeded all accurate calculation of numbers. The place chosen for the performance of this extraordinary match, was a single measured mile on the left-hand side of the turnpike-road leading from Newmarket to London, towards the ditch; which mile was roped in, and both competitors ran on the same ground.

They started precisely at eight o’clock on Monday morning, but after going forty miles, Wood resigned the contest, which created considerable surprize among the amateurs.—The following is an accurate account of the race.

Mr. Wood. | Capt. Barclay.
Hours. | Miles. | Hours. | Miles.
1 | 8 |  | 1 | 6 |
2 | 7 |  | 2 | 6 |
3 | 7 |  | 3 | 6 |
4 | 6½ |  | 4 | 6 |
5 | 6 |  | 5 | 6 |
6 | 5½ |  | 6 | 6 |
| 40 | miles. |  | 36 | do.

When the pedestrians had performed the above number of hours, Wood resigned the contest; but Capt. Barclay walked four miles farther to decide some bets. Wood made play at starting, and went eight miles within the first hour, as appears from the foregoing statement. For three hours he continued at a lounging run, when the odds, which were about three to one at starting, were reduced to about seven to four. He got off one mile in the first half hour, having performed four miles in one minute less than that time. He accomplished twenty miles in two hours and forty-one minutes; and by coming in the twenty-two miles within three hours, he had got off four miles of the twenty he had given to Capt. Barclay, and both pedestrians came in together. After having gone twenty-four miles in three hours and sixteen minutes, Wood took refreshment for five minutes in a marquee at the starting post, opposite to that of his competitor. After having gone thirty-two miles, he laid himself down and rested for ten minutes, appearing to be somewhat fatigued. His ancles and body were rubbed, and on leaving his marquee, he appeared without his shoes. The next four miles he slackened his pace, and was above twenty minutes in going two miles. Wood’s feet were cut by travelling without his shoes, and he put them on; but after having gone forty miles in six hours and twenty minutes, he retired to his marquee: and shortly after, it was communicated to the spectators that he had resigned the match.

Capt. Barclay pursued a steady course of six miles an hour, without varying a minute. After having gone eighteen miles he stopped, and refreshed by taking some warm fowl; and when he had accomplished other eighteen miles, he again stopped; but while taking another refreshment, Wood’s failure was announced to him, and he walked the other four miles merely to determine some depending bets.

The unexpected termination of this race excited considerable surprise in the sporting world, as it was known to most people present, that Wood, only a few months before, had gone forty miles in less than five hours. Several of those who had betted on Wood declined paying, from the suspicion of something unfair having taken place. But it was manifest to all, that there was no collusion between Capt. Barclay and the other party, and he had not the slightest suspicion of any thing unfair existing.

When the match was first proposed, Capt. Barclay refused to make it, without a gentleman was concerned for Wood, and after such was sought for, a publican in the vicinity of Spitalfields was brought forward to back him. He accordingly stood one hundred and fifty pounds of the stake-money; but it was well known that he never before risked twenty pounds on the issue of any uncertain event. Wood had gone fifty miles in seven hours, in a wet day, while training, and was desirous of continuing his journey, being very fresh; but was stopped, lest he should be injured by the unfavourable state of the weather: of course, a great deal was expected from him.

These, and several other concurring circumstances, induced some sporting men to decline paying their bets. The disputes on this head, were finally settled at Tattersal’s, when, after a good deal of discussion, it was the opinion of a considerable majority, that the bets ought not to be paid, as it was then well known, that liquid laudanum had been administered to Wood by some of his pretended friends, after he had gone twenty-two miles. The regular frequenters of Newmarket, however, maintained, that the bets ought to be paid, although they were of opinion THE RACE WAS THROWN OVER, or, at any time a man may get off from his wagers.—Capt. Barclay’s bets, which were considerable, were paid.

This match, on the part of Wood and his friends, was entirely hopeless; for no man in the world could, with the least prospect of success, allow Capt. Barclay twenty miles on a walk to be decided in twenty-four hours. He had previously walked, without the advantage of training, SEVENTY-EIGHT MILES IN FOURTEEN HOURS, and what is still more astonishing, had performed SIXTY-FOUR MILES IN TEN HOURS. If no accident, therefore, had occurred, it is highly probable, he would have accomplished one hundred and thirty-five miles, which would have obliged his opponent to have gone one hundred and fifty-five miles, a distance altogether beyond Wood’s power, and such as never has been performed in that time by any pedestrian, either ancient or modern.

As an additional instance of Capt. Barclay’s great strength and perseverance, it may be mentioned, that, merely for his amusement, he performed a most laborious undertaking in August this year, (1808). Having gone to Colonel Murray Farquharson’s house of Allanmore, in Aberdeenshire, he went out at five in the morning to enjoy the sport of grouse-shooting on the mountains, where he travelled at least thirty miles. He returned to dinner to the colonel’s house, by five in the afternoon, and in the evening set off for Ury, a distance of sixty miles, which he walked in eleven hours, without stopping once to refresh. He attended to his ordinary business at home, and in the afternoon walked to Laurence-kirk,—sixteen miles,—where he danced at a ball during the night, and returned to Ury by seven in the morning. He did not yet retire to bed, but occupied the day by partridge-shooting in the fields. He had thus travelled not less than one hundred and thirty miles, supposing him to have gone only eight miles in the course of the day’s shooting at home, and also danced at Laurence-kirk, without sleeping, or having been in bed for two nights and nearly three days.

In December following, he was matched against a runner of the Duke of Gordon, to go from Gordon Castle to Huntly Lodge, a distance of nineteen miles, which Capt. Barclay performed in two hours and eight minutes, without any previous preparation, and immediately after breakfast, beating the duke’s man five miles. He ran the first nine miles in fifty minutes, although the road was very hilly, and extremely bad.

In October this year, (1808,) Capt. Barclay made a match with Mr. Wedderburn Webster, a gentleman of celebrity in the sporting world, which attracted the notice of the whole kingdom, and raised the highest expectations among the amateurs of pedestrian exploits.

He engaged to go on foot, ONE THOUSAND MILES IN ONE THOUSAND SUCCESSIVE HOURS, at the rate of a mile in each and every hour, for a wager of one thousand guineas, to be performed at Newmarket-heath, and to start on the following 1st of June, (1809).

Previously to encountering this arduous match, Capt. Barclay went to Brighton, where he remained for a short time for the sake of sea-bathing and fresh air. He did not then deem it necessary to go under regular training, as he believed the undertaking would be easily accomplished.

He arrived at Newmarket on the 30th of May; but he had before that time provided lodgings for his accommodation, and the ground on which he was to perform had been marked out. It was on a public road leading from the house of Mr. Buckle, where he lodged, and by no means adapted to his purpose. His resting apartment was on the ground-floor fronting the south, and only separated from the kitchen by a small room, where the attendants sat. Thus accommodated, he undertook the match under various disadvantages.

On the sixteenth day, however, he removed to new lodgings near the Horse and Jockey, where he continued during the remainder of the time. He also shifted his ground, and walked across the Norwich road up the heath for half a mile out and return.

The difficulty of accomplishing this astonishing match may be conceived, when it is known that the most celebrated pedestrians of England have attempted it, and failed. The constant exertion, with the short time allowed for sleep, must soon exhaust the strongest frame; and no other man has been able to continue longer than about thirty days.

Mr. Howe started at Cliffe Common, Somersetshire, to perform the Barclay match; but at the end of fifteen days he resigned the task, and thus lost his stake of three hundred guineas, besides his health being much injured.

Mr. Blackie undertook the match, but on the twenty-second day of his labour, he became afflicted with swollen legs to a frightful degree, and resigned on the twenty-third day, reduced from fourteen stones six pounds to eleven stones.

Mr. Martindale failed on the 27th of May 1812, after having gone thirty days. He wasted twenty pounds, and was much injured in his legs and feet.

When Capt. Barclay started, his weight was thirteen stones and four pounds; but when weighed in Chiffeny’s (the jockey) scales, after finishing, and resting seventeen hours in bed, his weight was reduced to eleven stones,—thus losing, in the course of his performance, no less than two stones and four pounds.

Towards the conclusion, the spasmodic affections in his legs were particularly distressing; but it is an astonishing fact, that his appetite continued to the end as good as ever. To this fortunate circumstance, the accomplishment of the match may be ascribed. If the digestive powers of the stomach had been injured by the excessive fatigue, extreme debility must have ensued, and his labours would, no doubt, have terminated in the same manner as those of the other gentlemen who have attempted this match.

He breakfasted, after returning from his walk, at five in the morning. He ate a roasted fowl, and drank a pint of strong ale, and then took two cups of tea with bread and butter. He lunched at twelve; the one day on beef-steaks, and the other, on mutton-chops, of which he ate a considerable quantity. He dined at six, either on roast beef, or mutton-chops. His drink was porter, and two or three glasses of wine. He supped at eleven on a cold fowl. He ate such vegetables as were in season; and the quantity of animal food he took daily was from five to six pounds.

He walked in a sort of lounging gait, without apparently making any extraordinary exertion, scarcely raising his feet more than two or three inches above the ground.

His dress was adapted to the changeable state of the weather. Sometimes he walked in a flannel jacket, and sometimes in a loose dark grey coat, but he always used strong shoes and lamb-wool stockings.

Bets were from the beginning in his favour, and they rose to two to one and five to two; but, about eight days before he finished, they were ten to one on his accomplishing the match, at Tattersal’s, and other sporting places. On Wednesday morning, (the day he completed the task,) one hundred guineas to one were offered; but so strong was the confidence of his success that no bets could be obtained at any odds.

This extraordinary performance was concluded on the 12th of July, at thirty-seven minutes past three in the afternoon, amidst thousands of spectators. The multitude who resorted to the scene of action being unprecedented, not a bed could be procured on the previous night at Newmarket, Cambridge, or at any of the towns and villages in the vicinity; and every horse and vehicle were engaged. The influx of company had so much increased on Sunday, that the expediency of roping in the ground was suggested; but Capt. Barclay objected to the measure as indicating too much parade. On Monday, however, the crowd became so great, and he experienced so much interruption, that he consented to allow this precaution to be taken, and next morning the workmen began to rope in the ground.

Among the distinguished company who witnessed the conclusion of this arduous undertaking, we may include the Dukes of Argyle and St. Alban’s; Earls Grosvenor, Besborough, and Jersey; Lords Foley and Somerville; Sir John Lade, and Sir Francis Standish.

The following particulars relative to Capt. Barclay’s state of health, and other circumstances which occurred during this celebrated walk, were furnished to the author by a gentleman who attended him from the commencement, and they are copied from his MS. with perfect fidelity.

This statement, it is hoped, will be found interesting; and the reader is referred to the authenticated Journal for the TIME of performing EACH MILE, STATE of the WEATHER, &c. during the whole period of the walk.

First day.—After walking the second mile, Capt. Barclay stript off his clothes and went to bed: he did not sleep, and perspired profusely. (Throughout this match, when he went to bed, he always undressed.) He slept little the first night, and next day nothing particular occurred; but the weather being very hot, he had a great tendency to perspire after walking.

Second day.—He slept rather better the second night. At this time, he did not go to bed during the day, but walked in the streets of Newmarket, or occasionally rested on a sopha. He was still inclined to perspire.

Third day.—Twelve o’clock noon; in good health.—Twelve at night; slept well, and still fresh, but much inclined to perspire.

Fourth day.—Twelve, noon; the dust on the road incommoded him much, but he was still fresh, with a good appetite.—Twelve at night; slept well, looked fresh, and had no complaint.

Fifth day.—Twelve, noon; quite well.—Twelve, night; slept every time he lay down, and started at the first call, fresh and well.

Sixth day.—Twelve, noon; fresh, and in good spirits.—Twelve, night; in good health, and not fatigued.

Seventh day.—Twelve, noon; in good health and spirits.—Twelve, night; slept well, and in good spirits.

Eighth day.—Twelve, noon; in good health and spirits.—Twelve, night; quite well, and slept every time he went to bed.

Ninth day.—Twelve, noon and night; in good health and cheerful.

Tenth day.—Twelve, noon and night; in good health and spirits, but seemed fatigued in consequence of the rain and high wind which continued during the night and morning.

Eleventh day.—Twelve, noon; appeared as well as usual; appetite good; but kept more within doors, and more frequently reclined on a sopha.—Twelve, night; slept well; started immediately when called; appeared in good health and spirits; and persevered with courage.

Twelfth day.—Twelve, noon; kept more within doors, and more frequently reclined on the sopha, but appeared in good health and spirits.—Twelve, night; slept well, but complained of pains in the back of his neck and shoulders, occasioned, as he supposed, by not wearing a sufficient quantity of clothes during the night, and by sitting with his back towards an open window, after being in a state of perspiration from the walk.

Thirteenth day.—Three, morning; at this time felt a little pain in his legs, particularly in the back tendons; but in every other respect he was as well as ever.—Twelve, noon; in good health and spirits, but complained of slight pains in his neck and shoulders.—Twelve, night; slept well; appeared refreshed by sleep, and went on with cheerfulness.

Fourteenth day.—Three, morning; felt rather more pain in his legs, but no remedy was applied.—Twelve, noon; felt no pain; very cheerful, and appeared in good health.—Twelve, night; at this hour, felt no pain; was somewhat dull, but walked as usual, and slept soundly.

Fifteenth day.—Two, morning; felt some pain in his legs, but it was nothing of consequence, and did not impede his walking; slept well, and appeared in good health.—Three, morning; felt more pain than before, particularly at starting; when he had gone a hundred yards the pain ceased, and in other respects he was quite well.—Twelve, noon; felt no pain, looked fresh, and went on with cheerfulness.—Twelve, night; the pain in his legs had returned, and it gradually increased till three o’clock in the morning, when it was at the worst; but it wore off as the day advanced: He was still in good health.

Sixteenth day.—Three, morning; the pain in his legs increased, but in other respects the same as before.—Five, morning; the pain going off, and in good health and spirits.—Seven, morning; almost free from pain, and very cheerful.—Twelve, noon; at this hour, Capt. Barclay removed to new lodgings, and new ground. His victuals were not cooked in the house, and in all respects he was more comfortably lodged than before.—Twelve, night; the pain in the legs returned; was somewhat stiff, and did not sleep well, but was still cheerful.

Seventeenth day.—Three, morning; at this hour seemed rather dull and heavy; pains in the thighs as well as in the legs; his walking somewhat impeded, particularly at starting, but became better when he had gone two or three hundred yards.—Five, morning; felt less pain, and was in better spirits.—Seven, morning; much better, the pain going off, and cheerful.—Nine morning; quite well; felt no pain; in excellent spirits, and was much the same throughout the day.—Twelve, night; rather stiff; felt some pain in his legs and thighs, but was in tolerable spirits.

Eighteenth day.—Three, morning; rather dull; complained of the pain in his legs and thighs; stiff at first starting, and appeared as if he had been somewhat lame.—Five, morning; felt less pain, and was more lively.—Seven, morning; much better; felt little pain, and was in good spirits.—Nine, morning; nothing appeared to be the matter with him; much the same throughout the day, and very cheerful.—Nine, evening; rather heavy; at this time the pain returned, and increased throughout the night and morning; he was always worst at three o’clock, but gradually recovered as the day advanced.—Eleven, night; felt more pain, and was more stiff, but slept well, and was still in good spirits.

Nineteenth day.—One, morning; the pain increasing.—Three, morning; felt more pain in his legs and thighs, and experienced more difficulty in walking, especially at starting.—Five, morning; considerably better; the pain going off, and in tolerable spirits.—Seven, morning; much better; scarcely felt any pain.—Nine, morning; as well as ever; pain gone off, and in good spirits; cheerfully persevering, and nearly the same throughout the day, but lay down more frequently, and generally slept.—Eleven, night; rather worse; felt some pain; not so cheerful as during the day, and walked somewhat heavily.

Twentieth day.—One, morning; worse; with more pain than last hour; stiff and dull.—Three, morning; much pain in his thighs and legs; some difficulty in walking until he had gone a few hundred yards; slept well, and always started at the first call.—Five and seven, morning; much better; felt less pain, and walked with more ease.—Nine, morning; still felt some pain in his legs, particularly at starting.—He was not so well throughout the day as usual, owing, in a great measure, to the extreme heat of the weather. His legs were bathed several times with vinegar; but he was still in good health, and his appetite the same as at the commencement.—Nine, evening; still felt some pain, but it did not affect his walking, and he was in good spirits.—Eleven, evening; pain increasing, and somewhat stiff in his motion.

Twenty-first day.—One, morning; much worse; pain increased; walked heavily, and not in good spirits.—Three, morning; at this time felt much pain in the back parts of his legs; could not walk with ease, and complained a little on the tread of his right foot.—Five, morning; somewhat better; did not feel so much pain, and walked with more ease.—Seven, morning; much better; the pain considerably abated.—Nine, morning; in good spirits; still felt a little pain in his thighs and legs, which continued throughout the day; bathed them frequently in vinegar; his foot better in consequence of the application of vinegar.—Nine, evening; about this time began to feel the pain increasing; walked rather heavily, but was in good spirits.—Eleven, night; felt more pain; somewhat stiff, particularly at starting, but was still in good spirits.—During this day, Capt. Barclay lay down every time he returned from his walk, and was rather more stiff than during the preceding day.

Twenty-second day.—One, morning; felt much pain.—Three, morning; pain continued, but not so violent as at the same hour the preceding day, and he walked with more ease.—Five, morning; still felt much pain, walked heavily, but was in good spirits.—Seven, morning; the pain did not abate so much at this hour as it had usually done; experienced some difficulty in walking.—Nine, morning; a good deal of pain; complained on the tread of his foot, and walked heavily: the ground, although turf, and watered once every day, had become hard from the drought, and from being trampled by so many people who came to witness Capt. Barclay’s exertions.—Nine, night; pain increasing; more difficulty in walking, but in pretty good spirits.—Eleven, evening; felt rather more pain; somewhat stiff, but on the whole nearly the same as during the preceding day; lay down every time he came in from his walk, and slept well throughout the day; Dr. Sandiver called; recommended the application of the warm bath, and sent a liquid in a small phial to be rubbed on those parts where the pain was most intense, after being bathed, which was accordingly done.

Twenty-third day.—One, morning; pain increasing; walked with difficulty, and complained on the soles of his feet.—Three, morning; much worse than before; complained of the pain in his legs and feet, and had some difficulty in walking.—Five, morning; appeared to have greatly recovered; was much fresher, felt less pain, walked with more ease, and was in good spirits.—Seven, morning; greatly relieved from pain, and walked with more ease.—Nine, morning; much better; walked tolerably, and felt little pain: the warm bath was applied, and his legs and feet were frequently rubbed throughout the day and night.—Nine, evening; began to feel more pain, and more difficulty in walking; not so well this day as yesterday; was seized with the tooth-ach, which broke his rest, and he was somewhat feverish; the weather very hot.—Eleven, night; the tooth-ach still continued; very ill and fretful; complained much of his legs and feet, and walked with difficulty.

Twenty-fourth day.—One, morning; worse, and complained much of the pain in his legs; tooth-ach still continued; got little sleep, and walked with more difficulty.—Three, morning; was rather worse than last hour; had much difficulty in walking; complained of great pain in his legs, particularly at starting, but was better when he had gone some distance; distressed from want of sleep.—Five, morning; somewhat better, and not so stiff; walked with less difficulty; tooth-ach continued, which deprived him of sleep.—Seven, morning; in better spirits; the tooth-ach abating; complained of pain in his legs and feet.—Nine, morning; still felt much pain, but appeared fresher; tooth-ach less violent, and got some sleep; little variation until evening.—Nine, evening; rather worse than during the day; complained much of the pain in his legs and feet, and walked with great difficulty.—Eleven, night; pain increasing; walked with much difficulty, but in better spirits; tooth-ach nearly gone, and had more sleep.

The warm bath had produced no good effect; indeed it had softened his feet so much, that they became unable to bear the pressure of his body, and it was therefore abandoned. Dr. Sandiver recommended the application of flannel soaked in boiling water, and wrung until nearly dry, as a substitute for the bath. The flannel in this state was applied to the parts affected by the pain, and frequently renewed. It had the effect to cause the pains in his legs and thighs to remove from one part to another, but afforded no permanent relief.

Twenty-fifth day.—One, morning; much worse; great difficulty in walking, and the pain in his legs and feet rather increased.—Three, morning; still worse; very stiff, and walked heavily.—Five, morning; still much difficulty in walking, but appeared fresher.—Nine, morning; walked with less difficulty; appeared quite fresh, and in good spirits. Through the day he suffered more than during yesterday, but was in good spirits, and ate heartily.—Nine, evening; rather more pained, and walked with more difficulty.—Eleven, night; pain increasing, but in tolerable spirits; little difference in his walking.

Twenty-sixth day.—One, morning: very ill and very stiff; great difficulty in walking, and complained much of the pain.—Three, morning: rather worse, and complained much while walking. He was sometimes dressed and out before he was fully awake.—Five, morning: appeared rather better; had less pain than last hour, and walked somewhat easier.—Seven, morning: in good spirits, although he suffered much while walking.—Nine, morning: rather less pain, and walked with less difficulty. The flannel application began to do some good. Oil and camphor mixed, was rubbed into the parts affected, after the flannel had been applied.—Nine, evening: felt more pain than through the day, and very stiff. The flannel application eased the pain considerably, but he was gradually becoming weaker, and less able to bear the fatigue of walking.—Eleven, night: complained much of pain in his legs, and walked with more difficulty, but in tolerable spirits.

Twenty-seventh day.—One, morning: still worse; great difficulty in walking, and felt much pain.—Three, morning: at this time very ill, and complained more of pain than at any other time of the night and morning.—Five and seven, morning: much better; had less pain, and in better spirits.—Nine, morning: more lively, and walked with less difficulty. The flannel and oil were applied frequently during the night and day, and the pain moved down his legs towards his ancles. He was on the whole rather worse this day than during any preceding one, being very weak, and suffering much pain.—Nine, evening: rather worse than during the day, and walked with difficulty.—Eleven, night: much the same as last two hours. This day was very rainy, and Capt. Barclay wore his great coat, which was soon soaked, and became so heavy as greatly to fatigue him.

Twenty-eighth day.—One, morning: much pain, and very stiff.—Three, morning: complained more than at any time through the night, but slept well, and was sometimes dressed before his eyes were fully opened.—Five, morning: appeared much fresher; felt less pain, and walked with less difficulty; ate a good breakfast as usual, and in good spirits.—Seven, morning: somewhat better; in good spirits, and although much pained, walked with less difficulty.—Nine, morning: in every respect fully as well as during two last hours. He was rather better throughout this day than the preceding. He always undressed, and went to bed, when he returned from his walk, and generally slept, by which he was much refreshed.—Nine, evening: not so well as during the day, and felt much pain. About this period of the walk, it was reported in the newspapers that Capt. Barclay’s legs were much swelled. It was erroneous, for his legs did not swell during the whole time.—Eleven, night: rather worse than last hour; felt more pain, and had more difficulty in walking.

Twenty-ninth day.—One, morning: pain increasing, particularly in the calves of the legs.—Three, morning: much worse than last hour; complained much, and appeared very stiff.—Five, morning: in better spirits than through the night, although suffering not less pain, but walked with less difficulty.—Seven, morning: the pain little abated; very ill at starting, and very stiff.—Nine, morning: in much better spirits; walked, to appearance, with less difficulty, and recruited as the day advanced.—Capt. Barclay always improved so much during the day, that no person who saw him then, had any idea of his debilitated state during the night; and those who saw him then were equally deceived as to his appearance during the day. This circumstance gave occasion to the many false reports which were inserted in the public prints.—Nine, evening: little difference at this time, but still felt great pain, and was very stiff. The warm flannel and oil were constantly applied; many prescriptions were tried, but without effect: it is therefore unnecessary to mention them.—Eleven, night: nearly the same as for the last two hours; still felt great pain; was very stiff, and had much difficulty in walking.

Thirtieth day.—One, morning: not quite so well as the last time he walked; felt more pain, and complained much at first starting.—Three, morning: at this time very ill; complained of the pain in his legs alone; was so very stiff that he could scarcely rise, and when he got up could scarcely stand, and had great difficulty in walking.—Five, morning: felt as much pain as before, but appeared fresher, and was in better spirits than during the night and morning.—Seven, morning: in much better spirits; walked with less difficulty, but still felt great pain. Nine, morning; nearly the same as last time he walked; going on with great difficulty.—Nine, evening; nearly the same as throughout the day, but rather stiffer, and had more difficulty in walking.—Eleven, night: not so well as last time he walked; felt more pain, and very stiff, particularly at starting, and required more time to go the mile.

Thirty-first day.—One, morning: worse than last time he walked; becoming more stiff, and felt more pain.—Three, morning: still more difficulty in walking; when he sat down, could scarcely rise without assistance, and complained much of the pain in his legs.—Five, morning: great pain, but in good spirits.—Seven, morning: little difference since last time he walked, but rather better.—Nine, morning: much the same as last time he walked.—Eleven, morning: more difficulty in walking than last hour; required more time, and could scarcely mend his pace.—One, P. M. nearly the same as last time he was out.—Three, P. M.: not quite so much difficulty in walking as the last hours.—Five, afternoon: little difference in any respect.—Nine, evening: not so well as last walk; felt more pain, and stiffer.—Eleven, night: if any difference, not so well as at nine o’clock; much distressed while walking. This day he was rather worse than yesterday, but kept up his spirits, and as usual enjoyed a good appetite.

Thirty-second day.—One, morning: now much exhausted, and so stiff after resting that he could not rise without assistance; complained much of pain, and walked with great difficulty.—Three, morning: still worse; when he rested, the back tendons of his legs shrunk up, and the pain was excessive during the time of relaxing them, but his courage was unconquerable.—Five, morning: he now, required so much time to walk, that he had little time to rest, and even great part of that, was taken up with rubbing his legs with the oil.—Seven and nine, morning: the worst part of the day being over, his spirits were better, although still much pained.—Eleven, night: the pain increasing, and experiencing great difficulty in walking.

Thirty-third day.—One, morning: rather worse; felt great pain, and could not rise up without assistance. It required some time before he got the use of his limbs; very stiff, and walked with the greatest difficulty.—At this time, he was apparently completely exhausted.—Five, morning: not much difference as to his walking, but in better spirits.—Seven, morning: nearly the same as last hour.—Nine, morning: no difference since last time he was out; still felt great pain; could not get up without being lifted, and kept till he had the use of his legs.—One, three, and five, afternoon: continued in the same state. Nine, evening: rather worse, and much fagged with the rain.—Eleven, night: felt it more difficult to walk than last time he was out. The rain this day was very much against him: he wore his great coat, which was soaked every time he went out; the weight of it distressed him, and he was becoming weaker every hour.

Thirty-fourth day.—One, morning: very ill; the pain in his legs excessive; could not move without crying out.—Three, morning: his worst hour; could scarcely move when started; walked in a shuffling manner, and could not mend his pace if it had been to save his life.—Five, morning: not in so bad spirits as at last walk.—Seven, morning; no difference in walking, and in better spirits.—Nine, morning: the same as last walk; could not rise without assistance.—Eleven, forenoon: somewhat better; not quite so much difficulty in walking.—Three, five, and seven, afternoon: little difference in any respect.—Nine, evening: not quite so well as last time he walked; felt more pain, and had more difficulty in proceeding. On the whole, he was rather better to-day than yesterday; when in bed he felt no pain, but slept well, and readily wakened at the call. Nothing else was yet applied but the flannel fomentation and oil.—Eleven, night: not so well as last time he walked; felt more pain, and was rather heavy.

Thirty-fifth day.—One, morning: pain increasing, and great difficulty in walking.—Three, morning: his worst hour; pain excessive; could not rise, and was lifted up. To have seen him at this time, one would have thought that it would be impossible for him to go on, he was so debilitated and in such agony, but he was determined to complete the match at all risques.—Five, morning: in better spirits than last time he walked; complained less, and walked with less difficulty.—Seven, morning: in much better spirits; did not feel so much pain, and walked with less difficulty.—Nine, evening: not so well as he had been through the day, and walked more heavily.—Eleven, night: walked with more difficulty than last hour; complained much of the pain in his legs; not so well this day as yesterday, and to appearance rather more exhausted.

Thirty-sixth day.—One, morning: as usual at this time, considerably worse, and walked with great difficulty, feeling much pain.—Three, morning: still worse, so very ill indeed, that it became difficult to manage his time, for he could not mend his pace, which was now so slow that he had but little time for rest, but he still courageously persevered.—Five, morning: not quite so ill as at the last walk; more cheerful, and mended his pace.—Seven, nine, and eleven, morning: nearly the same as at five o’clock: if any difference, rather better.—One, P. M. no difference; much exhausted from want of rest, but showed no inclination to give up the match. Three, and five, afternoon: nearly the same; every hour becoming weaker; at this time, a spectator would have thought it impossible for him to go on another hour, but he persevered contrary to all expectation.—Nine, evening: not quite so well as last time he walked; appeared more distressed than during the day.—Eleven, night: complained much of pain; always getting weaker: if any difference, this day rather weaker, but his appetite still the same.

Thirty-seventh day.—One, morning: at this time rather heavy and dull, but not much difference in his walking.—Five, and seven, morning: no difference in his walking, but in better spirits.—Nine, morning: not quite so well as last time he went out, the rain fagged him.—Eleven, morning: nearly the same as at last walk.—One, three, five, and seven, evening: nearly in the same state.—Eleven, night: much worse; felt excessive pain, and walked with great difficulty; when lifted up, could not stand for some time; every hour he appeared weaker, and less able to proceed; nothing could now relieve him but rest, which he could not obtain.

Thirty-eighth day.—One and three, morning: nearly in the same state as last night.—Five, morning: somewhat better in spirits, but had still the same difficulty in walking.—Seven, morning: the same as at last walk, but rather more distressed in consequence of the rain; for at this time there was a heavy rain, and violent thunder-storm.—Nine, morning: the rain continued, and he was nearly the same as at last time he walked.—Eleven, morning: the weather warm and dry, and he walked with less difficulty.—One, three, five, seven, and nine, evening: little or no alteration.—Eleven, night: not quite so well as through the day; becoming weaker, and more distressed. This is the first day, that any alteration could be observed as to his eating since the commencement. He did not seem to relish his food so much as usual, but he never thought of resigning the task.

Thirty-ninth day.—One, morning: at this time very much wore out; had great difficulty in walking, and complained much of the pain in his legs.—Three, morning: still worse; the want of rest began to affect him dreadfully; very stiff, and could not stand, when lifted up, without assistance.—Five, morning: in better but in other respects nearly the same.—Seven, morning: in the same state.—Nine, morning, walked with somewhat less difficulty.—Little variation through the day.—Eleven, night: rather worse, and weaker than yesterday.

Fortieth day.—One, morning: if any difference, rather worse than last walk; more fatigued in consequence of the rain.—Three, morning: very ill; walked with great difficulty; felt as much pain as ever, and much fagged by the rain.—Five, seven, and nine: no difference.—One, P. M.; it is now fair; less difficulty in walking.—Eleven, evening: becoming worse; so much worn out as to be scarcely able to move: rather weaker this day than yesterday.

Forty-first day.—One, morning: at this time he had more difficulty to walk than ever: he went so slowly, and so much time was required to rub his legs, that he had little time for rest. It was quite apparent that he could not go on much longer.—Three, morning: fully as ill as at last time he walked, and had quite as much difficulty to go on.—Five, and seven: in somewhat better spirits, but in other respects the same; no difference during the day.—Nine and eleven, night: walked with the greatest difficulty.

Forty-second day.—One, morning: could not mend his pace, but in better spirits.—Three, morning: in better spirits than usual. This being the last morning, there were many attendants.—Five, seven, and nine, morning: nearly in the same state, but in good spirits. Eleven, forenoon: the crowd began to assemble from all quarters.—One, P. M.; the crowd so great that he could scarcely find room to walk; to appearance he was much better, and walked with less difficulty: he mended his pace.—Three o’clock, afternoon: the last mile, which he performed in twenty-two minutes, and the crowd gave three cheers.

Before Capt. Barclay had finished the last mile, a hot bath was prepared for him in an adjoining house, where he slept. He was put into the bath for a few minutes, and when taken out, well dried with flannel, and put to bed. He went to bed at four o’clock, and slept soundly till twelve, when he took some water-gruel, and again lay down. He slept till nine in the morning, when he got up in perfect health, and quite relieved from pain. He walked about Newmarket a considerable time, and was four hours on the race-ground.—July 14th; set off for London in a chaise and four, and arrived that evening.—15th; walked on the streets of London in his usual way.—16th; quite fresh, and in good spirits.—17th; seemed as well as before he started. This evening left London, and posted to Ramsgate, where he joined the expedition to Walcheren, and embarked with it as Aid-de-camp to Lieut.-Gen. the Marquis of Huntly.

TABLE of Captain Barclay’s Pedestrian performances, &c.

Year. | Matches. | Dist. Miles. | Days, | Hrs. | Min. | Sec. | Pag.
1796 | For 100 guineas, toe and heel, (won,) | 6 |  | 1 |  |  | 101
1798 | With Ferguson, London, (won,) | 70 |  | 14 |  |  | 102
1799 | From London to Birmingham, by Cambridge, | 150 | 2 |  |  |  | 102
1799 | Same distance by Oxford, | 150 | 2 |  |  |  | 102
1800 | From Ury to Ellon, and back to Ury, | 64 |  | 12 |  |  | 102
1801 | With Mr. Fletcher for 1000 guineas, (lost) | 67 |  | 13 |  |  | 103
1800 | From Ury to Boroughbridge in Yorkshire, | 300 | 5 |  |  |  | 103
1802 | From Ury to Kirkmichael, by Crathynaird, | 180 | 2 |  |  |  | 108
1801 | Training for Mr. Fletcher’s match, | 110 |  | 19 | 27 |  | 104
1801 | With Mr. Fletcher for 5000 guineas, (won,) | 90 |  | 20 | 22 |  | 105
1802 | From London to Newmarket, | 64 |  | 10 |  |  | 108
1805 | From London to Seaford in Sussex, | 64 |  | 10 |  |  | 112
1805 | From Birmingham to Wrexham, by Shrewsbury, (betwixt breakfast and dinner,) | 72 |  |  |  |  | 112
1806 | From London to Colchester, Essex, (to breakfast) | 51 |  |  |  |  | 112
1806 | From Ury to Crathynaird and back, | 100 |  | 19 |  |  | 114
1807 | From Ury to Boat of Forbes and back, | 78 |  | 14 |  |  | 115
1807 | With Abraham Wood for the greatest number of miles in twenty-four hours—Wood resigned,—He walked | 40 |  | 6 |  |  |
| Capt. Barclay—(won,) | 36 |  | 6 |  |  | 115
1808 | From Ury to Allanmore and some other places back to Ury, | 130 |  |  |  |  | 121
1808 | With the Duke of Gordon’s runner from Gordon Castle to Huntly Lodge, | 19 |  | 2 | 8 |  |
|  | 9 |  |  | 50 |  | 122
1808 | With Mr. Wedderburn Webster for 1000 guineas, (won,) | 1000 |  | 1000 successive, | 123
1803 | With Mr. J. Ward, (won) | ¼ |  |  |  | 56 | 109
1804 | At East Bourne, (won) | 2 |  |  | 11 | 57½ | 110
1804 | For 100 guineas with Cap. Marston, (won) | 1 |  |  | 5 | 7 | 111
1804 | With J. Ireland, 500 gs. (won) | 1 |  |  | 4 | 50 | 111
1806 | With Mr. Goulbourne, (won) | ¼ |  |  | 1 | 2 | 113
1803 | With Mr. Burke, (won,) | 1½ |  |  |  |  |

JOURNAL
OF
CAPT. BARCLAY’S CELEBRATED WALK
OF
ONE THOUSAND MILES
IN
One Thousand successive Hours.

TO THE READER

The following Journal of this extraordinary performance was regularly kept by the attendants, under the inspection of a person appointed by Mr. Webster, for the purpose of watching the time, that his interest might be protected in the event of any failure on the part of Capt. Barclay. It may, therefore, be deemed perfectly correct. In the original, the performance of each hour is certified by the initials of the attendant’s name, which we do not think necessary to insert here.

In the first column, the hour of the morning, day, and night, is marked; in the second, the exact time past that hour at which he started; in the third, the exact time at which he returned; and in the fourth, the number of minutes in which he walked the mile. In the last column, the state of the weather is mentioned; and at the foot of the page will be found the total time of performing the twenty-four miles, with the average of each.

First Day.—June 1st, 1809.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
N. | 12 | 2 | 14 | 12 | Rainy.
| 1 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Fair but cloudy.
| 2 | 42 | 57 | 15 | Do. do.
| 3 | ½ | 14½ | 14 | Do. do.
| 4 | 42 | 56 | 14 | Windy and stormy.
| 5 | ½ | 14 | 13½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 40 | 55 | 15 | Windy and sunshine.
| 7 | ½ | 14½ | 14 | Do. do.
| 8 | 41 | 55½ | 14½ | Very hot.
| 9 | ½ | 14½ | 14 | Do. do.
| 10 | 41 | 55½ | 14½ | Windy and hot.
| 11 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Cool and pleasant.
D. | 12 | 42½ | 57 | 14½ | Windy and hot.
| 1 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Windy and dusty.
| 2 | 41½ | 56 | 14½ | Hot, windy, and dusty.
| 3 | ½ | 14½ | 14 | Do. do.
| 4 | 42½ | 56 | 13½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 14½ | 14 | Do. do.
| 6 | 39 | 55 | 16 | Stormy.
| 7 | ½ | 14½ | 14 | Moderate.
| 8 | 29 | 45 | 16 | Cool and pleasant.
| 9 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 41 | 55½ | 14½ | Dark and cloudy.
| 11 | ½ | 14 | 13½ | Dark with rain.
N. | 12 | 43 | 56 | 13 | Clear moon-light, and fair.

Average time of walking each mile, 15 minutes 15 seconds.

—Total, (25 miles,) 5 hours 50 minutes.

Second Day.—June 2.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | 1½ | 15 | 13½ | Clear moon-light.
| 2 | 41 | 57 | 16 | Cold and windy.
| 3 | ½ | 14½ | 14 | Do. do.
| 4 | 41½ | 57 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 41½ | 56 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 14½ | 14 | Do. do.
| 8 | 41 | 55½ | 14½ | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 14½ | 14 | Do. with a little sunshine.
| 10 | 42 | 53 | 11 | Very rainy and stormy.
| 11 | 1 | 15½ | 14½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 43 | 56½ | 13½ | Stormy, with rain.
| 1 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 41 | 55 | 14 | High wind, but dry.
| 3 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. with some rain.
| 4 | 41½ | 56½ | 15 | Very high wind.
| 5 | ½ | 14½ | 14 | Do. do.
| 6 | 41 | 53 | 12 | Cold and windy.
| 7 | ½ | 14 | 13½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 40 | 54 | 14 | Cool, but pleasant.
| 9 | ½ | 14½ | 14 | Do. do.
| 10 | 41 | 56 | 15 | Clear and windy.
| 11 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 41½ | 57½ | 15 | Clear, windy, and cold.

Average time of walking the mile, 14 minutes 10 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 5 hours 40 minutes.

Third Day.—June 3.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 14½ | 14 | Clear, cold, and windy.
| 2 | 41½ | 57 | 15½ | Clear, and the air cold.
| 3 | ½ | 14½ | 14 | Windy, with cold
| 4 | 41½ | 57½ | 16 | Clear, with sharp wind.
| 5 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 41½ | 56½ | 15 | Cool and pleasant.
| 7 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 8 | 41½ | 57 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 41 | 56 | 15 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Warm, with a fine breeze.
D. | 12 | 40½ | 55½ | 15 | Do. with some wind.
| 1 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 2 | 41 | 55½ | 14½ | Cool and pleasant.
| 3 | ½ | 14½ | 14 | Do. do.
| 4 | 43 | 57 | 14 | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 14½ | 14 | Do. do.
| 6 | 42 | 57 | 15 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 40 | 55½ | 15½ | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Cold, but fair; star-light.
| 11 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do. do.
N. | 12 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Do. fair, with wind.

Average time of walking the mile, 14 minutes 52 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 5 hours 57½ minutes.

Fourth Day.—June 4th.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Fair, with wind, star and moon-light.
| 2 | 41½ | 57½ | 16
| 3 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Clear with sharp wind.
| 4 | 41½ | 57 | 15½ | Milder.
| 5 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Clear, with warm wind.
| 6 | 42 | 57 | 15 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Cool and pleasant.
| 8 | 42½ | 57½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 10 | 42 | 57 | 15 | Windy and dusty.
| 11 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 42 | 57 | 15 | Warm, windy, and dusty.
| 1 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 41 | 56 | 15 | Warm, windy, with sunshine.
| 3 | ½ | 15 | 14½
| 4 | 41½ | 56 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 42 | 57 | 15 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 40½ | 56 | 15½ | Cool and pleasant.
| 9 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Rather cold, but fair
| 10 | 42 | 57½ | 15½ | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 42 | 57½ | 15½ | Do. do.

Average time of walking the mile, 14 minutes 57 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 5 hours 59½ minutes.

Fifth Day.—June 5.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Cold, fair, and star-light.
| 2 | 41½ | 57½ | 15 | Clear, and more mild.
| 3 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Clear and warm.
| 4 | 41½ | 58 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 6 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Cool with sunshine.
| 7 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 8 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Do. and windy.
| 9 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. with rain.
| 10 | 41½ | 57 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 41 | 57 | 16 | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 2 | 41½ | 56½ | 15 | Cool, fair, and pleasant.
| 3 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 41½ | 57 | 15½ | Windy, with sunshine.
| 5 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 41 | 56 | 15 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 40 | 55 | 15 | Dry and fair.
| 9 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Windy and rainy.
| 10 | 41½ | 57 | 16½ | Very windy, fair, star-light.
| 11 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Stars with clouds.
N. | 12 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Cold, windy, and some rain.

Average time of walking the mile, 15 minutes 20 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 6 hours 8 minutes.

Sixth Day.—June 6.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Windy, cold, and cloudy.
| 2 | 41 | 57 | 16 | Cold and stormy.
| 3 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 4 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 41 | 56 | 15 | Do. with sunshine.
| 7 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 8 | 42 | 57½ | 15½ | Windy with do.
| 9 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 10 | 42 | 57½ | 15½ | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 40½ | 55 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 41 | 57 | 16 | Windy and warm with sunshine.
| 3 | ½ | 15 | 14½
| 4 | 41½ | 57 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 41½ | 57 | 15½ | Windy and cloudy.
| 7 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 8 | 41 | 56 | 15 | Do. and dry.
| 9 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 41½ | 58 | 16½ | Windy and fair, with star-light.
| 11 | ½ | 16½ | 16
N. | 12 | 41½ | 58½ | 17 | Do. do.

Average time of walking the mile, 15 minutes, 16 seconds.—Total, (24 miles) 6 hours 6½ minutes.

Seventh Day.—June 7.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Windy, and star-light.
| 2 | 41½ | 59 | 17½ | Clear and windy.
| 3 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 6 | 41½ | 57½ | 16 | Windy, cool, and cloudy.
| 7 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 8 | 42 | 58½ | 16½ | Cool and windy.
| 9 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 42 | 57½ | 15½ | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 41 | 56½ | 15½ | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 2 | 41½ | 57½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 3 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 41 | 56½ | 15½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 6 | 42 | 55 | 13 | Windy.
| 7 | ½ | 15 | 15½ | Do. and cloudy, with rain.
| 8 | 41 | 57 | 16 | Gloomy, with rain.
| 9 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 42½ | 58 | 15½ | Windy and cloudy.
| 11 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 41½ | 58 | 16½ | Do. with star-light.

Average time of walking the mile, 15 minutes 31 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 6 hours 12½ minutes.

Eighth Day.—June 8.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Windy, star-light.
| 2 | 41½ | 58 | 16½ | Clear, with sharp wind.
| 3 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 42½ | 58 | 15½ | Do. but cool.
| 5 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 41 | 56½ | 15½ | Windy, with sunshine.
| 7 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 8 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 40½ | 56 | 15½ | Do. and rather stormy.
| 11 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. and rainy.
D. | 12 | 41 | 56½ | 15½ | Do. cold and cloudy.
| 1 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 41 | 56 | 15 | Do. do.
| 3 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 4 | 41½ | 57 | 15½ | Cloudy, with rain.
| 5 | 26 | 42 | 16 | Do. do.
| 6 | 42½ | 58 | 15½ | Calm and fair, but cloudy.
| 7 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Rainy.
| 8 | 41 | 57½ | 16½ | Mild and fair.
| 9 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 10 | 43 | 59 | 16 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 42 | 58½ | 16½ | Do. do.

Average time of walking the mile, 15 minutes 40 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 6 hours 16 minutes.

Ninth Day.—June 9.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | 1 | 17½ | 16½ | Mild, with star-light.
| 2 | 41½ | 58 | 16½ | Cloudy, but mild and pleasant.
| 3 | ½ | 16 | 15½
| 4 | 42½ | 58½ | 16 | Dark and gloomy.
| 5 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 6 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Cool, with some rain.
| 7 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 43 | 59 | 16 | Do. and cloudy.
| 9 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 41½ | 57 | 15½ | Do. and rainy.
| 11 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Windy and rainy.
D. | 12 | 40½ | 56½ | 16 | Do. and cloudy.
| 1 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 42 | 57½ | 15½ | Cloudy, cold, and rainy.
| 3 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 42½ | 58½ | 16 | Windy, cold, and rainy.
| 5 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Cloudy and calm, with rain.
| 7 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 8 | 41 | 57½ | 16½ | Cool and pleasant.
| 9 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 10 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Dark and rainy.
N. | 12 | 41 | 58 | 17 | Do. and fair.

Average time of walking the mile, 15 minutes 51 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 6 hours 21 minutes.

Tenth Day.—June 10.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Cloudy and windy.
| 2 | 41½ | 58 | 16½ | Do. cold and dry.
| 3 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. dry, with sharp air.
| 4 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Do. with cold wind.
| 5 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Windy, cold, and rainy.
| 6 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 8 | 41 | 57 | 16 | Cloudy, cold, and dry.
| 9 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 10 | 43 | 57½ | 14½ | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 41 | 57½ | 16½ | Cool and pleasant.
| 1 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 41½ | 57½ | 16 | Cloudy, hot, and windy.
| 3 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Windy, cool, and cloudy.
| 5 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 41 | 57 | 16 | Cloudy, cool, and pleasant.
| 7 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 41 | 56½ | 15½ | Cool and pleasant.
| 9 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | A fine sharp wind, & fair.
| 10 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Windy and rainy.
| 11 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Dark and windy, with rain.

Average time of walking the mile, 15 minutes, 42½ seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 6 hours 17½ minutes.

Eleventh Day.—June 11.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Dark and windy, with rain.
| 2 | 41½ | 58½ | 17 | Foggy, cold, and rainy.
| 3 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 42 | 58½ | 16½ | Stormy, with rain.
| 5 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 6 | 43 | 58½ | 15½ | Cold, with rain.
| 7 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 8 | 41½ | 58 | 16½ | Windy and cold, with rain.
| 9 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 43 | 58½ | 15½ | Do. rather stormy.
| 11 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 40 | 55 | 15 | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 2 | 41 | 57 | 16 | Cloudy and do.
| 3 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 42 | 57½ | 15½ | Windy and stormy.
| 5 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 42½ | 58 | 15½ | Do. cool and cloudy.
| 7 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 41½ | 58 | 16½ | A fine evening.
| 9 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 10 | 42 | 58½ | 16½ | Cool and pleasant.
| 11 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 42 | 59 | 17 | Do. do.

Average time of walking the mile, 15 minutes 50 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 6 hours 20 minutes.

Twelfth Day.—June 12.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | 1 | 16½ | 15½ | Cool and pleasant.
| 2 | 42 | 59 | 17 | Mild and do.
| 3 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 42½ | 58½ | 16 | Cool and cloudy.
| 5 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do. and pleasant.
| 6 | 42 | 58½ | 16½ | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 8 | 42 | 58½ | 16½ | Rather hot, with sunshine.
| 9 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 42 | 58½ | 16½ | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 42 | 57½ | 15½ | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 2 | 44 | 58½ | 14½ | Windy and cloudy.
| 3 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 4 | 41 | 57½ | 16½ | Do. cool and do.
| 5 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 6 | 41½ | 57½ | 16 | Cool and cloudy.
| 7 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 41 | 58 | 17 | Do. with rain.
| 9 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 10 | 42 | 59 | 17 | Windy and cloudy.
| 11 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Dark and do.
N. | 12 | 42 | 59 | 17 | Windy and cloudy.

Average time of walking the mile, 16 minutes 1 second.—Total, (24 miles,) 6 hours 24½ minutes.

Thirteenth Day.—June 13.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Windy, and cloudy.
| 2 | 42 | 59½ | 17½ | Do. cool and do.
| 3 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. with rain.
| 4 | 41½ | 59 | 17½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 6 | 43½ | 59 | 15½ | Cloudy, cool, and fair.
| 7 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 8 | 41½ | 59 | 17½ | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 42½ | 58½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 11 | 1 | 17 | 16 | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 41 | 56½ | 15½ | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 2 | 41½ | 57½ | 16 | Hot with sunshine.
| 3 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Do. do.
| 4 | 36 | 53½ | 17½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 6 | 41 | 58 | 17 | Cooler, with sunshine.
| 7 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Warm, with a little wind.
| 9 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 10 | 41½ | 58½ | 17 | Cool and pleasant.
| 11 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 42 | 59 | 17 | Do. do.

Average time of walking the mile, 16 minutes 20½ seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 6 hours 32½ minutes.

Fourteenth Day.—June 14.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Star-light and pleasant.
| 2 | 42 | 59½ | 17½ | Clear, cool, and pleasant.
| 3 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 4 | 42 | 59 | 17 | Cool and cloudy.
| 5 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 6 | 42½ | 59 | 16½ | Cool, with sunshine.
| 7 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 8 | 41 | 58 | 17 | Hot, with sunshine.
| 9 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 41 | 58 | 17 | Very hot with do.
| 11 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 41½ | 57½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 2 | 41½ | 56 | 14½ | Hot, with wind.
| 3 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 41 | 57½ | 16½ | Warm with do.
| 5 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 6 | 41 | 57½ | 16½ | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. and windy.
| 8 | 41 | 57½ | 16½ | Do. with some rain.
| 9 | ½ | 16½ | 15½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Cool and pleasant.
| 11 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 42 | 59 | 17 | Do. do.

Average time of walking each mile, 16 minutes 30½ seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 6 hours 36½ minutes.

Fifteenth Day.—June 15.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Cool and pleasant.
| 2 | 41½ | 59 | 17½ | Cold and cloudy.
| 3 | 4½ | 22½ | 18 | Do. do.
| 4 | 41½ | 58 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 42½ | 58 | 15½ | Do. do. and windy.
| 7 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 41 | 58 | 17 | Cool and cloudy.
| 9 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 10 | 40 | 55 | 15 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 15½ | 15 | Hot and sunshine.
D. | 12 | 40 | 56½ | 16½ | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 2 | 43 | 59 | 16 | Do. do.
| 3 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 38 | 55 | 17 | Cool and pleasant.
| 5 | ½ | 15 | 14½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 40½ | 55½ | 15 | Do. and cloudy.
| 7 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 41½ | 58½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 35 | 55 | 20 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 42½ | 58½ | 16 | Do. do.

Average time of walking the mile, 16 minutes 19 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 6 hours 31½ minutes.

Sixteenth Day.—June 16.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | 1 | 18 | 17 | Cool and cloudy.
| 2 | 42 | 58½ | 16½ | Cool and pleasant.
| 3 | 5 | 22 | 17 | Do. do.
| 4 | 41½ | 58 | 16½ | Cool and clear.
| 5 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Do. and sunshine.
| 7 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 40 | 56 | 16 | Do. do.
| 9 | 2½ | 19 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 36 | 54 | 18 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Cool and pleasant.
D. | 12 | 40 | 56 | 16 | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Rather warm.
| 2 | 42 | 57½ | 15½ | Cloudy and cool.
| 3 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 4 | 37½ | 54½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 41 | 57 | 16 | Clear and cool.
| 7 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 40 | 56 | 16 | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Cool and windy.
| 11 | ½ | 16 | 15½ | Cool, windy, and cloudy.
N. | 12 | 42 | 59 | 17 | Cool, with wind.

Average time of walking the mile, 16 minutes 10⅓ seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 6 hours 30 minutes.

Seventeenth Day.—June 17.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Cool with wind.
| 2 | 41½ | 58½ | 17 | Windy with rain.
| 3 | 5 | 23 | 18 | Do. and cloudy.
| 4 | 42 | 59 | 17 | Do. with rain.
| 5 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. but fair.
| 6 | 41½ | 58½ | 17 | Do. and cloudy.
| 7 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 8 | 39 | 55 | 16 | Cool and windy.
| 9 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 10 | 41 | 56 | 15 | Windy and cloudy.
| 11 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 41 | 56 | 15 | Cool, and pleasant.
| 1 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 41 | 57 | 16 | Very windy and cloudy.
| 3 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 4 | 38 | 55 | 17 | Windy and cloudy.
| 5 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 6 | 40½ | 57 | 16½ | Hot, with sunshine.
| 7 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 41 | 57½ | 16½ | Cool, with wind.
| 9 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 10 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Windy and cloudy.
N. | 12 | 41 | 58 | 17 | Cool, windy, and star-light.

Average time of walking the mile, 16 minutes 34 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 6 hours 38 minutes.

Eighteenth Day.—June 18.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Cool, windy, and star-light.
| 2 | 42 | 59 | 17 | Windy and cold.
| 3 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Do. do.
| 4 | 42 | 58½ | 16½ | Cold and clear.
| 5 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 42½ | 59 | 16½ | Windy and stormy.
| 7 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 8 | 39½ | 55 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Very windy and dusty.
| 10 | 43 | 57½ | 14½ | Windy and cloudy.
| 11 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 41 | 57 | 16 | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Cool and windy.
| 2 | 41½ | 58 | 16½ | Windy and stormy.
| 3 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 40 | 55 | 15 | Windy and cloudy.
| 5 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Cool and pleasant.
| 6 | 41 | 57 | 16 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Warm, with wind.
| 8 | 42½ | 57 | 14½ | Cool and fine.
| 9 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 10 | 41 | 58½ | 17½ | Cool and pleasant.
| 11 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 42 | 58½ | 16½ | Do. star-light.

Average time of walking the mile, 16 minutes 20 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 6 hours 32 minutes.

Nineteenth Day.—June 19.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | 1 | 18 | 17 | Cool and star-light.
| 2 | 42 | 59 | 17 | Clear, and sharp air.
| 3 | 4 | 18 | 14 | Do. do.
| 4 | 41½ | 59 | 17½ | Cool and clear.
| 5 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. with sunshine.
| 6 | 42 | 59 | 17 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 18½ | 18 | Do. do.
| 8 | 38½ | 55 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Hot with do.
| 10 | 41½ | 58 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 34 | 52 | 18 | Very hot.
| 1 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 40½ | 57½ | 17 | Do. with sunshine.
| 3 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 4 | 38½ | 55½ | 17 | Hot and cloudy.
| 5 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 40 | 56½ | 16½ | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 35½ | 54 | 18½ | Cool and pleasant.
| 9 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 10 | 42 | 58 | 16 | Cool and cloudy.
| 11 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. and pleasant.
N. | 12 | 42 | 59 | 17 | Do. do.

Average time of walking the mile, 17 minutes.—Total, (24 miles,) 6 hours 48 minutes.

Twentieth Day.—June 20.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | 1 | 18 | 17 | Cool and pleasant.
| 2 | 42 | 59 | 17 | Cloudy, with rain.
| 3 | 1 | 17½ | 16½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 41½ | 58½ | 17 | Do. and warm.
| 5 | 1 | 17 | 16 | Do. do.
| 6 | 41½ | 58½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 38 | 56 | 18 | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Cool and cloudy.
| 10 | 41½ | 57 | 15½ | Do. do.
| 11 | 1 | 18½ | 17½ | Warm and cloudy.
D. | 12 | 40½ | 57 | 16½ | Hot and do.
| 1 | ½ | 18½ | 18 | Do. do.
| 2 | 41 | 57 | 16 | Very hot, do.
| 3 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 36 | 53½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. sunshine.
| 6 | 38½ | 55½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 7 | 4½ | 21 | 16½ | Warm with do.
| 8 | 41 | 57 | 16 | Cool and fine.
| 9 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 10 | 40 | 56½ | 16½ | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 16½ | 16 | Cool, and star-light.
N. | 12 | 42 | 58½ | 16½ | Cool and pleasant.

Average time of walking the mile, 16 minutes, 48 seconds.—Total, (24 miles) 6 hours 43½ minutes.

Twenty-first Day.—June 21.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | 1 | 18 | 17 | Cool and pleasant.
| 2 | 41½ | 58 | 16½ | Warm and cloudy.
| 3 | 3 | 18½ | 15½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 41½ | 58½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 41½ | 58½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. and sunshine.
| 8 | 38 | 56½ | 18½ | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 40 | 57½ | 17½ | Do. and pleasant.
| 11 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 40 | 57½ | 17½ | Do. do.
| 1 | 1 | 17½ | 16½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 40 | 57½ | 17½ | Do. with wind.
| 3 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 4 | 37½ | 56 | 18½ | Do. and windy.
| 5 | 1 | 20 | 19 | Do. do.
| 6 | 38 | 56 | 18 | Do. with sunshine.
| 7 | 2 | 21 | 19 | Clear and pleasant.
| 8 | 37 | 57 | 20 | Mild and clear.
| 9 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 39 | 56½ | 17½ | Clear, and moon-light.
| 11 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 41 | 58 | 17 | Mild.

Average time of walking the mile, 17 minutes 36 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 7 hours 2½ minutes.

Twenty-second Day.—June 22.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Mild and pleasant.
| 2 | 41½ | 58 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 3 | 4 | 19½ | 15½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 41½ | 58 | 16½ | Do. with sunshine.
| 5 | 2 | 18½ | 16½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 41 | 58 | 17 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 37 | 57½ | 20½ | Hot with do.
| 9 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Calm with do.
| 10 | 40½ | 58 | 17½ | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Hot and cloudy.
D. | 12 | 35 | 54 | 19 | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 18½ | 18 | Do. do.
| 2 | 40 | 58½ | 18½ | Do. do.
| 3 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 4 | 38 | 55 | 17 | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 38 | 56½ | 18½ | Very dry, with sunshine.
| 7 | 6 | 23 | 17 | Hot with do.
| 8 | 38 | 57 | 19 | Warm, with wind.
| 9 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 40 | 56 | 16 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 17 | 16½ | Calm, and moon-light.
N. | 12 | 41 | 58 | 17 | Do. do.

Average time of walking the mile, 16 minutes, 36 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 7 hours 2½ minutes.

Twenty-third Day.—June 23.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Calm.
| 2 | 42 | 59 | 17 | Do. cloudy and warm.
| 3 | 5 | 22 | 17 | Do. do.
| 4 | 40½ | 58 | 17½ | Cool, with wet fog.
| 5 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 6 | 41 | 58 | 17 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 8 | 36 | 54 | 18 | Hot, with sunshine.
| 9 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Very hot, with do.
| 10 | 39½ | 58 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 35½ | 55½ | 20 | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 2 | 39 | 57 | 18 | Do. do.
| 3 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 36 | 55½ | 19½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 37 | 56½ | 19½ | Do. do.
| 7 | 1 | 22 | 21 | Warm, with some wind.
| 8 | 35 | 55 | 20 | Do. and fine.
| 9 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 39 | 58 | 19 | Do. do. moon-light.
| 11 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do. do.
N. | 12 | 41 | 59 | 18 | Do. do.

Average time of walking the mile, 18 minutes 30¼ seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 7 hours 24½ minutes.

Twenty-fourth Day.—June 24.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Cool and cloudy.
| 2 | 41½ | 59 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 3 | 5 | 22 | 17 | Do. do.
| 4 | 40 | 58 | 18 | Warm, with wet fog.
| 5 | ½ | 17½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 6 | 39 | 57½ | 18½ | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. with sunshine.
| 8 | 26 | 45 | 19 | Clear, with do.
| 9 | 5 | 22 | 17 | Cool and pleasant.
| 10 | 38 | 57 | 19 | Warm, with sunshine.
| 11 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 38 | 57 | 19 | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Hot, with do.
| 2 | 39 | 58 | 19 | Do. do.
| 3 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. and cloudy.
| 4 | 39 | 58 | 19 | Very hot, with sunshine.
| 5 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 36½ | 56 | 19½ | Hot and cloudy.
| 7 | 2 | 20 | 18 | Do. do.
| 8 | 37 | 56 | 19 | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 39 | 57 | 18 | Calm and fine.
| 11 | ½ | 18½ | 18 | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 40 | 58½ | 18½ | Cloudy, with wind.

Average time of walking each mile, 18 minutes 30 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 7 hours 24 minutes.

Twenty-fifth Day.—June 25.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 18½ | 18 | Cloudy, with wind.
| 2 | 39 | 57½ | 18½ | Cool and cloudy.
| 3 | 3 | 20 | 17 | Do. do.
| 4 | 39 | 58 | 19 | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 39 | 58 | 19 | Windy and cloudy.
| 7 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 38 | 58 | 20 | Do. do.
| 9 | 3½ | 23 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 40 | 58½ | 18½ | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. and dusty.
D. | 12 | 36 | 55 | 19 | Do. Do.
| 1 | 1½ | 21 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 39½ | 57½ | 18 | Do. do.
| 3 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. and dry.
| 4 | 37½ | 55½ | 18 | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. and cloudy.
| 6 | 39 | 56½ | 17½ | Do. with sunshine.
| 7 | 1½ | 19½ | 18 | Do. and cloudy.
| 8 | 38 | 57 | 19 | A sharp wind.
| 9 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 40 | 58 | 18 | Cool and dry.
| 11 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 40 | 58½ | 18½ | Do. but pleasant.

Average time of walking the mile, 18 minutes 39 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 7 hours 27½ minutes.

Twenty-sixth Day.—June 26.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Cool and pleasant.
| 2 | 38½ | 58 | 19½ | Cool and clear.
| 3 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 38 | 56 | 18 | Windy and clear.
| 5 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 6 | 38 | 58 | 20 | Do. and cloudy.
| 7 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. and clear.
| 8 | 36 | 55 | 19 | Do. with sunshine.
| 9 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 10 | 37 | 54 | 17 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 34 | 52 | 18 | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 2 | 38½ | 56½ | 18 | Do. do.
| 3 | 2 | 21 | 19 | Do. do.
| 4 | 38 | 57 | 19 | Hot with do.
| 5 | 1 | 20½ | 19½ | Do. and windy.
| 6 | 37½ | 56 | 18½ | Do. sunshine.
| 7 | 3½ | 23½ | 20 | Do. do.
| 8 | 36 | 55½ | 19½ | Cool, fine, and calm.
| 9 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 40 | 58 | 18 | Do. but pleasant.
| 11 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 40 | 58 | 18 | Cloudy.

Average time of walking the mile, 18 minutes 46¼ seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 7 hours 30½ minutes.

Twenty-seventh Day.—June 27.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Calm and foggy.
| 2 | 38 | 57 | 18 | Do. do.
| 3 | 4 | 24 | 20 | Do. do.
| 4 | 22 | 58½ | 36½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 6 | 38½ | 58½ | 20 | Cool and cloudy.
| 7 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 8 | 36½ | 56½ | 20 | Windy and dry.
| 9 | ½ | 23 | 22½ | Cool and pleasant.
| 10 | 39 | 57½ | 18½ | Windy and dry.
| 11 | 4 | 24 | 20 | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 38 | 55 | 17 | Do. with sunshine.
| 1 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 2 | 36½ | 55½ | 19 | Do. with rain.
| 3 | 2½ | 22½ | 20 | Do. do.
| 4 | 38 | 55½ | 17½ | Do. and cloudy.
| 5 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do. and rain.
| 6 | 36½ | 55½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 7 | 3 | 19½ | 16½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 37 | 55½ | 18½ | Cold, windy, and rain.
| 9 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 10 | 40 | 58 | 18 | Do. with rain.
| 11 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 40 | 58 | 18 | Cool and cloudy.

Average time of walking the mile, 19 minutes 36¼ seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 7 hours 50½ minutes.

Twenty-eighth Day.—June 28.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 18 | 17½ | Cool and cloudy.
| 2 | 38½ | 58 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 3 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 37½ | 56 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 38 | 56½ | 18½ | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 36½ | 55½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 40 | 58 | 18 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 37 | 55 | 18 | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 33½ | 55½ | 22 | Hot and cloudy.
| 3 | 5 | 24 | 19 | Cloudy and rainy.
| 4 | 38 | 56½ | 18½ | Hot, with sunshine.
| 5 | 1 | 20 | 19 | Do. do.
| 6 | 36 | 55 | 19 | Calm and cloudy.
| 7 | 1½ | 20 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 36 | 55 | 19 | Cool and pleasant.
| 9 | 1 | 20 | 19 | Do. do.
| 10 | 40 | 58 | 18 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 19 | 18 | Do. with wind.
N. | 12 | 40 | 58 | 18 | Do. do. and cloudy.

Average time of walking the mile, 18 minutes 45 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 7 hours 30 minutes.

Twenty-ninth Day.—June 29.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Cloudy, with wind.
| 2 | 38 | 59 | 21 | Cool and cloudy.
| 3 | 4 | 23½ | 19½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 38 | 56 | 18 | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 6 | 36½ | 56 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 8 | 38 | 55 | 19 | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 38 | 55 | 17 | Do. do.
| 11 | 4 | 20½ | 16½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 37 | 56 | 19 | Do. and pleasant.
| 1 | 1 | 20 | 19 | Do. do.
| 2 | 38 | 57½ | 19½ | Do. do.
| 3 | 2½ | 19½ | 17 | Do. do.
| 4 | 38 | 56½ | 18½ | Do. do.
| 5 | 5 | 24 | 19 | Do. do.
| 6 | 37½ | 56½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 38 | 57 | 19 | Cold and windy.
| 9 | 2½ | 22 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 40 | 59 | 19 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 40 | 57½ | 17½ | Cool and pleasant.

Average time of walking the mile, 18 minutes 45 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 7 hours 30 minutes.

Thirtieth Day.—June 30.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Cool and pleasant.
| 2 | 36 | 54 | 18 | Warm and cloudy.
| 3 | 2 | 20½ | 18½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 37½ | 58½ | 21 | Calm and foggy.
| 5 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 21½ | 50½ | 29 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 38 | 57 | 19 | Hot and cloudy.
| 9 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 39 | 57½ | 18½ | Cool and pleasant.
| 11 | 4½ | 23½ | 19 | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 35 | 55 | 20 | Warm, with rain.
| 1 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 37½ | 56 | 19½ | Hot and cloudy.
| 3 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 4 | 36 | 56 | 20 | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 38½ | 56 | 17½ | Calm, with rain.
| 7 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 8 | 38 | 58 | 20 | Cool and pleasant.
| 9 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 38 | 58 | 20 | Warm and cloudy.
| 11 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 38 | 59 | 21 | Cool and pleasant.

Average time of walking the mile, 19 minutes 1¼ seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 7 hours 52½ minutes.

Thirty-first Day.—July 1.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Cool and cloudy.
| 2 | 36 | 58½ | 22½ | Do. do.
| 3 | 3 | 22 | 19 | Do. do.
| 4 | 36 | 58 | 22 | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 24 | 23½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 26½ | 50 | 23½ | Hot and cloudy.
| 7 | 5 | 25 | 20 | Do. do.
| 8 | 35½ | 54 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 36 | 56½ | 20½ | Pleasant, with a fine breeze.
| 11 | 2 | 22½ | 20½ | Warm, with rain.
D. | 12 | 37 | 57 | 20 | Cool and pleasant.
| 1 | 1½ | 22 | 20½ | Do. and cloudy.
| 2 | 36 | 56 | 20 | Warm and do.
| 3 | ½ | 18½ | 18 | Do. do.
| 4 | 37 | 56 | 19 | Hot, with sunshine.
| 5 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 37 | 56½ | 18½ | Do. do.
| 7 | 1½ | 20 | 18½ | Warm and fine.
| 8 | 37 | 56 | 19 | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 38 | 59 | 21 | Cool and fine.
| 11 | 1 | 21 | 20 | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 37 | 58 | 21 | Do. do.

Average time of walking the mile, 20 minutes 6¼ seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 8 hours 2½ minutes.

Thirty-second Day.—July 2.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | 3 | 23 | 20 | Cool and fine.
| 2 | 36 | 57 | 21 | Cloudy and calm.
| 3 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 37 | 57½ | 20½ | Calm and pleasant.
| 5 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Hot and cloudy.
| 6 | 36 | 55 | 19 | Do. do.
| 7 | 4 | 22 | 18 | Do. with sunshine.
| 8 | 37½ | 59 | 21½ | Do. do.
| 9 | 8 | 28 | 20 | Do. do.
| 10 | 39 | 59 | 20 | Do. do.
| 11 | 9 | 29 | 20 | Do. with rain.
D. | 12 | 36 | 55 | 19 | Do. do.
| 1 | 3 | 25 | 22 | Warm and cloudy.
| 2 | 37 | 57½ | 20½ | Do. and rain.
| 3 | 1 | 22 | 21 | Do. do.
| 4 | 38 | 59 | 21 | Do. do.
| 5 | 3 | 22 | 19 | Do. do.
| 6 | 37½ | 56 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 7 | 3½ | 24 | 20½ | Hot and cloudy.
| 8 | 36 | 55 | 19 | Warm, fair, and fine.
| 9 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 36 | 58 | 22 | Cool and cloudy.
| 11 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Windy and do.
N. | 12 | 37 | 58 | 21 | Do. do.

Average time of walking the mile, 20 minutes, 3¾ seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 8 hours 1½ minutes.

Thirty-third Day.—July 3.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | 2 | 22 | 20 | Cloudy, with wind.
| 2 | 36 | 59 | 23 | Cool, with wind.
| 3 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 35½ | 56½ | 21 | Do. and cloudy.
| 5 | 4 | 24 | 20 | Do. do.
| 6 | 33 | 54 | 21 | Cool and sunshine.
| 7 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 37 | 57 | 20 | Fair, but cloudy.
| 9 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. but cloudy.
| 10 | 36 | 56 | 20 | Windy and rainy.
| 11 | 1 | 20 | 19 | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 38 | 57 | 19 | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 22 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 38 | 57 | 19 | Cool and cloudy.
| 3 | 3 | 22 | 19 | Do. do.
| 4 | 36 | 56½ | 20½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 37 | 58 | 21 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do. with rain.
| 8 | 38 | 58 | 20 | Do. do.
| 9 | 1½ | 22 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 35 | 56 | 21 | Do. do.
| 11 | 1 | 21 | 10 | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 35 | 58 | 23 | Very rainy, and cold.

Average time of walking the mile, 19 minutes 50 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 7 hours 56 minutes.

Thirty-fourth Day.—July 4.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 22 | 21½ | Cold and rainy.
| 2 | 35 | 58 | 23 | Do. do.
| 3 | 7 | 28 | 21 | Do. do.
| 4 | 36 | 56½ | 20½ | Cool, cloudy, and dry.
| 5 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 34 | 55 | 21 | Cool and rainy.
| 7 | 2 | 22 | 20 | Do. do.
| 8 | 37 | 56 | 19 | Warm, with rain.
| 9 | 7 | 28 | 21 | Do. but dry.
| 10 | 36 | 56½ | 20½ | Do. with sunshine.
| 11 | 12 | 29 | 17 | Cool, with rain.
D. | 12 | 36 | 55 | 19 | Do. but dry.
| 1 | 2½ | 22 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 36 | 56 | 20 | Do. do. and cloudy.
| 3 | 1 | 20 | 19 | Do. do.
| 4 | 36 | 55 | 19 | Do. do. and dry.
| 5 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 6 | 36½ | 56 | 19½ | Dry and sunshine.
| 7 | 5 | 24 | 19 | Do. do.
| 8 | 35 | 54½ | 19½ | Cool and fine.
| 9 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 33 | 54 | 21 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 35 | 57 | 22 | Do. do.

Average time of walking each mile, 19 minutes 58¾ seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 7 hours 59½ minutes.

Thirty-fifth Day.—July 5.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Moonlight, and fine.
| 2 | 36 | 59 | 23 | Moon and star-light.
| 3 | 5 | 26 | 21 | Do. do.
| 4 | 36 | 56 | 20 | Cool and pleasant.
| 5 | ½ | 19½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 6 | 36 | 56 | 20 | Do. and cloudy.
| 7 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Warm, with some rain.
| 8 | 36 | 56 | 20 | Do. do.
| 9 | 6 | 25 | 19 | Do. do.
| 10 | 35 | 56 | 21 | Fine, but cloudy.
| 11 | 2 | 21 | 19 | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 35 | 54 | 19 | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Cloudy, with rain.
| 2 | 37 | 56 | 19 | Cool and fair.
| 3 | 3 | 19½ | 16½ | Do. with sunshine.
| 4 | 36½ | 57 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 20½ | 20 | Do. do.
| 6 | 36½ | 57 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 36 | 57½ | 21½ | Do. and cloudy.
| 9 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 36 | 56 | 20 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Moon and star-light.
N. | 12 | 35 | 58 | 23 | Do. do.

Average time of walking the mile, 20 minutes 2½ seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 8 hours 1 minute.

Thirty-sixth Day.—July 6.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 23 | 22½ | Moon and star-light.
| 2 | 35½ | 58 | 22½ | Cool and cloudy.
| 3 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 37½ | 57 | 19½ | Do. and raining.
| 5 | ½ | 19 | 18½ | Do. and dry.
| 6 | 36 | 56 | 20 | Warm and do.
| 7 | 1 | 19½ | 18½ | Cloudy.
| 8 | 37½ | 56½ | 19 | Cool, with some rain.
| 9 | 3 | 22 | 19 | Warm, with do.
| 10 | 37 | 56 | 19 | Do. do.
| 11 | 1 | 21 | 20 | Pleasant.
D. | 12 | 37 | 55½ | 18½ | Cool, with a fine breeze.
| 1 | 3 | 23 | 20 | Do. do.
| 2 | 37 | 57 | 20 | Do. do.
| 3 | 1 | 21 | 20 | Warm, with sunshine.
| 4 | 36½ | 57 | 20½ | Hot, with do.
| 5 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 36 | 57 | 21 | Warm with do.
| 7 | 8 | 29 | 21 | Cool and pleasant.
| 8 | 38 | 57 | 19 | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 36 | 58 | 22 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 35 | 57 | 22 | Do. do.

Average time of walking the mile, 20 minutes, 9 seconds.—Total, (24 miles) 8 hours 3½ minutes.

Thirty-seventh Day.—July 7.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Cool.
| 2 | 36 | 58½ | 22½ | Cold.
| 3 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Cool and cloudy.
| 4 | 37 | 58 | 21 | Do. do.
| 5 | 2 | 23 | 21 | Do. do.
| 6 | 36 | 56 | 20 | Calm and raining.
| 7 | 10 | 30 | 20 | Do. do.
| 8 | 36 | 57 | 21 | Cloudy, with rain.
| 9 | 7 | 30 | 23 | Do. do.
| 10 | 36 | 56 | 20 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 36½ | 55½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 1 | 1 | 20 | 19 | Do. do.
| 2 | 36½ | 56½ | 20 | Cool and dry.
| 3 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 36 | 56½ | 20½ | Warm, with sunshine.
| 5 | 2 | 21 | 19 | Hot, with do.
| 6 | 36½ | 55 | 18½ | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 36 | 55 | 19 | Pleasant.
| 9 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Cool and pleasant.
| 10 | 35 | 56 | 21 | Dark and gloomy.
| 11 | ½ | 22 | 21½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 36 | 59 | 23 | Do. with lightning.

Average time of walking the mile, 20 minutes 15 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 8 hours 6 minutes.

Thirty-eighth Day.—July 8.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 22 | 21½ | Dark, with lightning.
| 2 | 37 | 59 | 22 | Cool and pleasant.
| 3 | ½ | 23 | 21½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 38 | 59 | 21 | Do. and cloudy.
| 5 | ½ | 20½ | 20 | Do. do.
| 6 | 35 | 55 | 20 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Thunder, lightning & rain.
| 8 | 38 | 57 | 19 | Much rain.
| 9 | 13 | 32 | 19 | Do.
| 10 | 36 | 56 | 20 | Warm and cloudy.
| 11 | 1 | 21 | 20 | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 36 | 55 | 19 | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 35½ | 55 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 3 | 4 | 24 | 20 | Do. do.
| 4 | 36½ | 55½ | 19 | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 20½ | 20 | Do. do.
| 6 | 36 | 55½ | 19½ | Cool and cloudy.
| 7 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 35 | 55 | 20 | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 35 | 58 | 23 | Cold and do.
| 11 | 1 | 22½ | 21½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 36 | 59 | 23 | Do. do.

Average time of walking the mile, 20 minutes 23¾ seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 8 hours 9½ minutes.

Thirty-ninth Day.—July 9.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 22½ | 22 | Cold and cloudy, with rain.
| 2 | 36 | 58 | 22 | Cold wind, with rain.
| 3 | ½ | 22 | 21½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 35 | 58 | 23 | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 21½ | 21 | Do. do.
| 6 | 36½ | 56 | 19½ | Do. high wind, but dry.
| 7 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 36 | 56 | 20 | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 35 | 55 | 20 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 35 | 54 | 19 | Do. and cold.
| 1 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 37½ | 57 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 3 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. with rain.
| 4 | 36 | 57 | 21 | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 37 | 56 | 19 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 23 | 22½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 37 | 57 | 20 | Do. do.
| 9 | 1 | 22 | 21 | Wind and do.
| 10 | 36 | 57 | 21 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 37 | 58 | 21 | Do. do. and dark.

Average time of walking the mile, 20 minutes 30½ seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 8 hours 11½ minutes.

Fortieth Day.—July 10.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Windy, dark, and rain.
| 2 | 37 | 59 | 22 | Very windy, with do.
| 3 | ½ | 24 | 23½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 36½ | 57 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 36 | 56 | 20 | Very rainy and windy.
| 7 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 36 | 57 | 21 | High wind, cold, and rain.
| 9 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 35 | 56 | 21 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 35 | 54 | 19 | Fair, but cloudy.
| 1 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 35 | 55½ | 20½ | Windy, cold, and dry.
| 3 | ½ | 20 | 19½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 35 | 54½ | 19½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 36 | 56 | 20 | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 34 | 55 | 21 | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 34 | 57 | 23 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 25 | 24½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 34 | 58 | 24 | Do. do.

Average time of walking the mile, 20 minutes 54 seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 8 hours 21½ minutes.

Forty-first Day.—July 11.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 22½ | 22 | Cold, windy, and dry.
| 2 | 33 | 58 | 25 | Do. do. and cloudy.
| 3 | ½ | 24½ | 24 | Do. do.
| 4 | 31½ | 53 | 21½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 22 | 21½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 35 | 56½ | 21½ | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 22 | 21½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 35 | 56½ | 21½ | Do. do.
| 9 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 35 | 57 | 22 | Do. do.
| 11 | 4 | 24 | 20 | Windy and sunshine.
D. | 12 | 33 | 54 | 21 | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 35 | 56 | 21 | Do. do.
| 3 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 35½ | 55½ | 20 | Cool and do.
| 5 | ½ | 22 | 21½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 36 | 56½ | 20½ | Do. do.
| 7 | ½ | 22 | 21½ | Do. do.
| 8 | 37 | 57 | 20 | Do. but pleasant.
| 9 | ½ | 22 | 21½ | Do. do.
| 10 | 35 | 57 | 22 | Do. do.
| 11 | ½ | 24 | 23½ | Do. do.
N. | 12 | 31 | 56 | 25 | Do. do.

Average time of walking the mile, 21 minutes 38¾ seconds.—Total, (24 miles,) 8 hours 39½ minutes.

Forty-second Day.—July 12.

Hour. | Started min. past. | Returned min. past. | Time per Mile. | State of the Weather.
M. | 1 | ½ | 24½ | 24 | Cool and pleasant.
| 2 | 35 | 55 | 20 | Do. do.
| 3 | ½ | 25 | 24½ | Do. do.
| 4 | 34 | 56½ | 22½ | Do. do.
| 5 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 6 | 35 | 56 | 21 | Do. with sunshine.
| 7 | 7 | 28 | 21 | Do. do.
| 8 | 35 | 55½ | 20½ | Warm, with do.
| 9 | ½ | 22 | 21½ | Hot, do.
| 10 | 34 | 55 | 21 | Very hot, and do.
| 11 | ½ | 22 | 21½ | Do. do.
D. | 12 | 35 | 55 | 20 | Do. do.
| 1 | ½ | 21 | 20½ | Do. do.
| 2 | 30 | 52 | 22 | Do. do.
| 3 | 15 | 37 | 22 | Hot, but pleasant.

Average time of walking the mile, 21 minutes, 30 seconds.—Total, (15 miles,) 5 hours 22½ minutes.

Captain Barclay walked 1000 miles in 296 hours; or, in 12 days, and 8 hours, being at the rate of about 81 miles and 142 yards in 24 hours.

It will be perceived by the average time taken to perform the mile, as stated in the preceding Journal, how much Capt. Barclay declined each day in the progress of this match: the difficulty of its accomplishment gradually increasing as he approached the termination. By taking the average of the different weeks, it appears, that he walked the mile during the first week in 14 minutes and 54 seconds; in the second, he required 16 minutes; third week, 16 minutes 41 seconds; fourth, 18 minutes 36 seconds; fifth, 19 minutes 41 seconds; and in the sixth week, 21 minutes 4 seconds.—During the first week, his average rate of performing was something more than four miles an hour; and in the last week, somewhat less than three miles.

CHAPTER V.
SKETCHES OF CAPT. BARCLAY’S FAVOURITE PURSUITS, AND GENERAL MODE OF LIVING.

Robert Barclay Allardice, Esq. of Ury, succeeded his father in the eighteenth year of his age. He was born in the month of August 1779, and at eight years, was sent to England to receive his education. He remained four years at Richmond School, and three years at Brixton Causeway. His academical studies were completed at Cambridge; after which, he embarked on the great theatre of life, under the protection of curators, who managed his affairs, in terms of his father’s settlement, until he arrived at the age of twenty-one.

He is descended from an ancient and honourable family[18], and is known in the sporting world by the title of Captain Barclay. His favourite pursuits have ever been the art of agriculture, as the serious business of his life, and the manly sports, as his amusement or recreation.

The improvement of his extensive estates has occupied much of his attention, and he is well acquainted with every thing relative to modern husbandry. His taste for rural affairs is hereditary, and his knowledge of them is derived from experience. The example of his father, who raised his rental from three hundred pounds a year, to several thousands, was an irresistible stimulus to an ardent mind; and Capt. Barclay, by pursuing the plan adopted by his immediate predecessor, has greatly augmented the value of his property, which is still increasing, and in a few years will produce ten thousand pounds annually.

His love of the athletic exercises may proceed from the strong conformation of his body, and great muscular strength. But his predilection for the manly sports has never interfered with his important business, or in any manner, retarded the improvement of his estate. And what may appear difficult or impossible to a man of ordinary frame, is to him quite easily accomplished. His usual rate of travelling on foot is six miles an hour, and to walk from twenty to thirty miles before breakfast, is a favourite amusement. To a person so constructed by nature and habit, long journies on foot or on horseback—the chase, or gymnastic sports—are nothing more than that moderate degree of exercise which is necessary to the preservation of health.

His style of walking is to bend forward the body, and to throw its weight on the knees. His step is short, and his feet are raised only a few inches from the ground. Any person who will try this plan will find, that his pace will be quickened, at the same time he will walk with more ease to himself, and be better able to endure the fatigue of a long journey, than by walking in a posture perfectly erect, which throws too much of the weight of the body on the ancle-joints. He always uses thick-soled shoes, and lambs-wool stockings, which preserve his feet from injury. It is a good rule to shift the stockings frequently during the performance of a long distance; but it is indispensably requisite to have shoes with thick soles, and so large, that all unnecessary pressure on the feet may be avoided.

Capt. Barclay’s great muscular power has been evinced in his various pedestrian feats, recorded in the previous Chapter; but it remains to be noticed, that, in his arms particularly, he possesses uncommon strength, as exemplified in the following performances.

In April 1806, while in Suffolk with the 23d regiment, although only twenty years of age, he offered a bet of one thousand guineas, which was not accepted, that he would lift from the ground the weight of half a ton. He tried the experiment, however, and having obtained a number of weights which were fastened together by a rope through the rings, he lifted twenty-one half hundred weights. He afterwards, with a straight arm, threw a half hundred weight the distance of eight yards, and over his head the same weight, a distance of five yards. In the mess-room, Capt. Keith, the paymaster of the 23d regiment, who weighed eighteen stones, stood upon Capt. Barclay’s right hand, and, being steadied by his left, he thus took him up and set him on the table.

He has performed many similar feats; and few men are able to match him in those sports which are analagous to the English game of quoits, or what the ancients termed the Discus. But the deltoid muscle of his arm is uncommonly large, and expanded in a manner that indicates very great strength.

His predecessors have always been remarkable for their muscular power. Colonel Barclay, the first of Ury, was upwards of six feet in height; and his sword, which still remains, is too heavy to be wielded “in these degenerate days.” Many popular stories are told of the feats of strength performed by his great-grandfather; and the late Mr. Barclay of Ury, it is well known, was uncommonly powerful. The name Barclay is of Celtic origin, and implies great strength[19].

Capt. Barclay’s partiality to the exercise of walking, induces him to prefer it to any other mode of travelling; and, except when hunting, he is seldom on horseback. While he carried on the improvements of his estate, as a practical farmer, by retaining in his own possession, and cultivating considerable tracts of land, he frequently had occasion to go to the Highlands of Scotland, for the purpose of purchasing STOCK; and in these expeditions he always travelled on foot. He was generally accompanied by a Mr. Molyson, who is one of those respectable tenants who occupy his estate. Mr. Molyson is very much skilled in every thing relative to the value of land, and agricultural industry, and was bred to the profession of a farmer by the late Mr. Barclay of Ury. He is a man of large stature, and stands six feet three inches. He is strongly, but proportionally and handsomely made, and is a noted pedestrian[20].

Previously to Capt. Barclay’s undertaking his astonishing performance of one thousand miles in one thousand successive hours, he wished an experiment tried on the same plan; and Mr. Molyson, for a small wager, walked one hundred and ninety-two miles in as many successive hours. Mr. Molyson easily accomplished the undertaking, and it was his opinion that he could go on for six months. But it has been now fully ascertained, by the failure of some of the best pedestrians in England[21], that in attempting the Barclay match, little inconveniency is felt for the first fortnight. It is from the fifteenth to the twentieth day that the pedestrian begins to feel the arduousness of the undertaking, which gradually increases as he advances. And although Mr. Molyson was fresh and in high spirits at the close of the eight days, it is yet probable, that if he had continued much longer, he would have experienced the same difficulties that others have done.

The life of a country gentleman, almost every where, but especially in Scotland, presents little variety, and unless he shall occupy himself with rural affairs, or entertain a passion for literary pursuits, he possesses no means of relieving the vacuity of his situation, but such as arise from field sports. Capt. Barclay, at an early period of his life, kept a pack of fox-hounds, with which he hunted in Kincardineshire. But having engaged deeply in the improvement of his estate, he renounced his pack for more serious concerns, to which, for several years, he wholly devoted his attention. Having completed those measures of improvement, however, which he had so laudably undertaken, and his estate being brought to a system of management that required little exertion on his part, he entered into the service of his country, and obtained a commission in the 23d regiment. He went to the continent in the year 1805, his regiment forming part of Lord Cathcart’s army, which was sent for the protection of Hanover. He was afterwards promoted to a company, but was not again employed in actual service until the unfortunate expedition to Walcheren, where he acted in the capacity of aid-de-camp to Lieut.-Gen. the Marquis of Huntly. He embarked for that pestiferous island, a few days after he had finished his pedestrian performance at Newmarket, and, although greatly reduced by the fatigue of that extraordinary exertion, yet he suffered no injury from the climate of Walcheren, and returned home in perfect health.—Since that period, he has not been employed in military transactions, farther than in commanding the local militia of his native county, which, principally through his exertions, was brought to a high state of discipline.

Five years ago, a pack of fox-hounds was established in Kincardineshire by subscription, under the auspices of Capt. Barclay. He regularly attended the pack, wherever it went, and was scarcely a day absent from the chace. In summer, the hounds were kept at Ury, but in the hunting season, they were for weeks stationed at Turriff in Aberdeenshire, and at Beauchamp in the county of Angus. It was during the residence of the establishment at these stations, that Capt. Barclay suffered the greatest personal inconveniency. But his ardour for the chace is such, that he will endure any degree of fatigue in the pursuit of his favourite amusement.

During the season 1810-11, he frequently went from Ury to Turriff, a distance of fifty-one miles, where he arrived to breakfast. He attended the pack to cover, often fifteen miles from the kennel, and followed the hounds through all the windings of the chace for twenty or twenty-five miles farther. He returned with the hounds to the kennel, and, after taking refreshment, proceeded to Ury, where he generally arrived before eleven at night. He performed these long journies generally twice a week, and on the average, the distance was from one hundred and thirty to a hundred and fifty miles, which he accomplished in about twenty-one hours. His reluctance to live in a country tavern, and his anxiety to attend to his affairs at home, were the motives which induced him to undergo these laborious rides. When a house was fitted up at Turriff for his accommodation during last season, he seldom returned home after the chace, but often left Ury in the morning of the day in which he hunted.

During last winter, while the pack was stationed at Beauchamp, he always left Ury in the morning, and returned to dinner, after hunting. The distance is thirty-three miles, which, when doubled, and added to the average distance, to the cover, and length of the chace, was about one hundred miles. He left Ury generally at five, morning, and returned by five, afternoon. He performed these journies three times a week for nine weeks, and considered them only moderate exercise. Although frequently drenched with rain, he seldom shifted his clothes, experiencing no inconveniency from wetness. To one thus inured to fatigue, and to every change of weather, those circumstances which would incommode or even injure most people, are trivial and insignificant. Capt. Barclay neither studies the vicissitudes of the weather, nor the changes of the season, but pursues his plans, either as to business or amusement, with persevering assiduity.

As the owner of an extensive estate, his intercourse with the neighbouring proprietors is frequent and friendly; and those whom either politics or inclination lead him to associate with, are the most respectable characters of the county. His connection with his tenantry is supported by all those ties which naturally bind a proprietor to that useful class of men. They are industrious and thriving. They receive their farms at a fair price; for he knows the value of the land, and that his own interest is combined with their prosperity. Under such circumstances, it is to be expected that much civility will reciprocally take place. His tenantry accordingly participate warmly in every thing connected with his welfare, and, in return, his services are ever ready to promote their comfort and happiness.

Capt. Barclay’s mode of living is plain and unaffected. His table is always abundantly supplied, and he is fond of society. His hospitality is of that frank and open kind which sets every man at his ease. With a condescension extremely agreeable, he directs his attention alike to every person, and, in consistency with the rules of good-breeding, the perfect liberty of speech and action is enjoyed by every one who surrounds him. He is well acquainted with general history, the Greek and Latin classics, and converses fluently on most subjects that are introduced in company as topics of discussion. He has stood a candidate for his native county, which his father so honourably represented in three parliaments; and in his political sentiments he is moderate and independent. As far from violently censuring those whose political conduct he does not approve, as from blindly following the opinions of those with whom he publicly acts or personally esteems—he thinks for himself, and judges of measures by their efficacy, or tries them by the legitimate deductions of rational probability.

In private and in public life, Capt. Barclay has ever evinced inflexible adherence to those strict principles of honor and integrity which characterise a gentleman; and, whether as transacting with mankind, individually, or as a public character, responsible for his opinions and conduct at the shrine of his country, he has always proved his sincere respect for the rights of others, and his unfeigned attachment to the British constitution.

CHAPTER VI.
ON TRAINING.

The art of training for athletic exercises, consists in purifying the body and strengthening its powers, by certain processes, which thus qualify a person for the accomplishment of laborious exertions. It was known to the ancients, who paid much attention to the means of augmenting corporeal vigour and activity; and accordingly, among the Greeks and Romans, certain rules of regimen and exercise were prescribed to the candidates for gymnastic celebrity.

We are not, however, in possession of any detailed account of the particular kind of Diet in use among the Greeks previously to the solemn contest at the public games; but we are assured, that the strictest temperance, sobriety, and regularity in living, were indispensably requisite. The candidates, at the same time, were subjected to daily exercise in the Gymnasium for ten months, which, with the prescribed regimen, constituted the preparatory course of training adopted by the Athletæ of ancient Greece.

Among the Romans, the exercises of the Palæstra degenerated from the rank of a liberal art, and became a profession, which was embraced only by the lowest of mankind. The exhibitions of the Gladiators were bloody and ferocious spectacles, which evinced the barbarous taste of the people. The combatants, however, were regularly trained by proper exercise, and a strict observance of regimen. In the more early stages, their diet consisted of dried figs, new cheese, and boiled grain. But afterwards, animal food was introduced as a part of the athletic regimen, and PORK was preferred to any other. Galen asserts, that “pork contains more real nutriment than the flesh of any other animal which is used as food by man: this fact,” he adds, “is decidedly proved by the example of the athletæ, who, if they lived but for one day on any other kind of food, found their vigour manifestly impaired the next[22].”

The preference given to pork by the ancients, does not correspond with the practice of modern trainers, who entirely reject it in their regimen: But in the manner of preparing the food they exactly agree—ROASTING or BROILING being preferred to BOILING, by both; and bread unfermented, to that prepared by leaven. A very small quantity of fluid was allowed, and this was principally water. When the daily exercises of the Athletæ were finished, they were refreshed by immersion in a tepid bath, “where the perspiration and sordes were carefully removed from the surface of the body by the use of the STRYGIL. The skin was then diligently rubbed dry, and again anointed with oil. If thirsty, they were permitted to drink a small quantity of warm water. They then took their principal repast, after which they never used any exercise. They occasionally also went into the cold bath in the morning. They were permitted to sleep as many hours as they chose; and great increase of vigour, as well as of bulk, was supposed to be derived from long-continued and sound repose[23].”

Previously to entering on this regimen, the Athletæ were subjected to the evacuating process by means of emetics, which they preferred to purgatives. The sexual intercourse was strictly prohibited. “To exercise their patience, and accustom them to bear pain without flinching, they were occasionally flogged on the back with the branches of a kind of rhododendron, till the blood flowed pretty plentifully. By diminishing the quantity of the circulating fluid, this rough kind of cupping was also considered as salutary, in obviating the tendency to plethora, to which they were peculiarly liable[24].”

Pure and salubrious air was deemed a chief requisite; and accordingly the principal schools of the Roman Athletæ were established at Capua and Ravenna, the most healthy places in all Italy. They exercised in the open air, and, by habit, became familiarized to every change of the weather, the vicissitudes of which soon ceased to affect them.

The manner of training among the ancients bears some resemblance to that now practised by the moderns. But as their mode of living and general habits were somewhat different from those of the present age, a difference of treatment is now required to produce the same effects.

The great object of training, for running, or boxing matches, is, to increase the muscular strength, and to improve the free action of the lungs, or WIND, of the person subjected to the process, which is done by medicines, regimen, and exercise. That this object can be accomplished, is evident from the nature of the human system. It is well known, (for it has been demonstrated by experiments,) that every part of the firmest bones is successively absorbed and deposited. “The bones and their ligaments, the muscles and their tendons, all the finer, and all the more flexible parts of the body, are as continually renewed, and as properly a secretion, as the saliva that flows from the mouth, or the moisture that bedews the surface. The health of all the parts, and their soundness of structure, depend on this perpetual absorption and perpetual renovation; and exercise, by promoting at once absorption and secretion, promotes life without hurrying it, renovates all the parts, and preserves them apt and fit for every office[25].”

When the human frame is thus capable of being altered and renovated, it is not surprising that the art of training should be carried to a degree of perfection almost incredible; and that by certain processes, the BREATH, strength, and courage of man, should be so greatly improved as to enable him to perform the most laborious undertakings. That such effects have been produced is unquestionable, being fully exemplified in the astonishing exploits of our most celebrated pedestrians, which are the infallible results of preparatory discipline.

The skilful trainer attends to the state of the bowels, the lungs, and the skin; and he uses such means as will reduce the fat, and at the same time, invigorate the muscular fibres. The patient is purged by drastic medicines; he is sweated by walking under a load of clothes, and by lying between feather-beds. His limbs are roughly rubbed. His diet is beef or mutton; his drink, strong ale; and he is gradually inured to exercise by repeated trials in walking and running. “By extenuating the fat, emptying the cellular substance, hardening the muscular fibre, and improving the breath, a man of the ordinary frame may be made to fight for one hour, with the utmost exertion of strength and courage[26],” or go over one hundred miles in twenty-four hours.

The most effectual process for training is that practised by Capt. Barclay; and the particular method which he has adopted, has not only been SANCTIONED by professional men, but has met with the unqualified approbation of amateurs. The following statement, therefore, contains the most approved rules; and it is presented to the reader, as the result of much experience, founded on the theoretic principles of the art.

The pedestrian who may be supposed in tolerable condition, enters upon his training with a regular course of physic, which consists of three dozes. Glauber Salts are generally preferred; and from one ounce and a half to two ounces, are taken each time, with an interval of four days between each doze[27]. After having gone through the course of physic, he commences his regular exercise, which is gradually increased as he proceeds in the training. When the object in view is the accomplishment of a pedestrian match, his regular exercise may be from twenty to twenty-four miles a day. He must rise at five in the morning, run half a mile at the top of his speed up-hill, and then walk six miles at a moderate pace, coming in about seven to breakfast, which should consist of beef-steaks or mutton-chops under-done, with stale bread and old beer. After breakfast, he must again walk six miles at a moderate pace, and at twelve lie down in bed without his clothes for half an hour. On getting up, he must walk four miles, and return by four to dinner, which should also be beef-steaks or mutton-chops, with bread and beer as at breakfast. Immediately after dinner, he must resume his exercise by running half a mile at the top of his speed, and walking six miles at a moderate pace. He takes no more exercise for that day, but retires to bed about eight, and next morning proceeds in the same manner.

After having gone on in this regular course for three or four weeks, the pedestrian must take a four-mile SWEAT, which is produced by running four miles, in flannel, at the top of his speed. Immediately on returning, a hot liquor is prescribed, in order to promote the perspiration, of which he must drink one English pint. It is termed the SWEATING LIQUOR, and is composed of the following ingredients, viz. one ounce of caraway-seed; half an ounce of coriander-seed; one ounce of root liquorice; and half an ounce of sugar-candy; mixed with two bottles of cyder, and boiled down to one half. He is then put to bed in his flannels, and being covered with six or eight pairs of blankets, and a feather-bed, must remain in this state from twenty-five to thirty minutes, when he is taken out and rubbed perfectly dry. Being then well wrapt in his great coat, he walks out gently for two miles, and returns to breakfast, which, on such occasions, should consist of a roasted fowl. He afterwards proceeds with his usual exercise. These sweats are continued WEEKLY, till within a few days of the performance of the match, or, in other words, he must undergo three or four of these operations. If the stomach of the pedestrian be foul, an emetic or two must be given, about a week before the conclusion of the training, and he is now supposed to be in the highest condition.

Besides his usual or regular exercise, a person under training, ought to employ himself in the intervals in every kind of exertion, which tends to activity, such as cricket, bowls, throwing quoits, &c. that, during the whole day, both body and mind may be constantly occupied.

From the above account of Capt. Barclay’s method of training, it will be seen, that he commences with the evacuating process, and that three purgative dozes are deemed sufficient to clear any man from the impurities which it is requisite to throw off, preparatory to entering on the course of regimen and exercise. And in this stage of the business, the objects to be attained, are the purification of the animal system, and the promotion of the digestive powers.

The diet or regimen is the next point of consideration, and it is very simple. As the intention of the trainer is to preserve the strength of the pedestrian, he must take care to keep him in good condition by nourishing food. Animal diet is alone prescribed, and beef and mutton are preferred. The lean of fat beef cooked in steaks, with very little salt, is the best, and it should be rather under-done than otherwise. Mutton being reckoned easy of digestion, may be occasionally given, to vary the diet, and gratify the taste. The legs of fowls are highly esteemed. It is preferable to have the meat BROILED, as much of its nutritive qualities is lost by roasting or boiling[28]. Biscuit and stale bread are the only preparations of vegetable matter which are permitted to be given; and every thing inducing flatulency must be carefully avoided. Veal and lamb are never allowed, nor pork, which operates as a laxative on some people; and all fat or greasy substances are prohibited, as they induce bile, and consequently injure the stomach. But it has been proved by experience, that the lean of meat contains more nourishment than the fat, and in every case, the most substantial food is preferable to any other kind.

Vegetables, such as turnips, carrots, or potatoes, are never given, as they are watery, and of difficult digestion. On the same principle, fish must be avoided, and besides, they are not sufficiently nutritious. Neither butter nor cheese is allowed; the one being very indigestible, and the other apt to turn rancid on the stomach. Eggs are also forbidden, excepting the yolk taken raw in the morning. And it must be remarked, that salt, spiceries, and all kinds of seasonings, with the exception of vinegar, are prohibited.

With respect to liquors, they must be always taken cold; and home-brewed beer, old, but not bottled, is the best. A little red wine, however, may be given to those who are not fond of malt liquor; but never more than half a pint after dinner. Too much liquor swells the abdomen, and of course injures the breath. The quantity of beer, therefore, should not exceed three pints during the whole day, and it must be taken with breakfast and dinner, no supper being allowed. Water is never given alone, and ardent spirits are strictly prohibited, however diluted. It is an established rule to avoid liquids as much as possible, and no more liquor of any kind is allowed to be taken than what is merely requisite to quench the thirst. Milk is never allowed, as it curdles on the stomach. Soups are not used[29]; nor is any thing liquid taken warm, but gruel or broth, to promote the operation of the physic; and the sweating liquor mentioned above. The broth must be cooled in order to take off the fat, when it may be again warmed; or beef tea may be used in the same manner, with little or no salt. In the days between the purges, the pedestrian must be fed as usual, strictly adhering to the nourishing diet by which he is invigorated.

Profuse sweating is resorted to as an expedient for removing the superfluities of flesh and fat. Three or four sweats are generally requisite, and they may be considered the severest part of the process.

Emetics are only prescribed if the stomach be disordered, which may sometimes happen, when due care is not taken to proportion the quantity of food to the digestive powers. But in general, the quantity of aliment is not limited by the trainer, but left entirely to the discretion of the pedestrian, whose appetite should regulate him in this respect.

Although the chief parts of the training system depend upon Sweating, Exercise, and Feeding, yet the object to be obtained by the pedestrian would be defeated, if these were not adjusted, each to the other, and to his constitution. The skilful trainer will, therefore, constantly study the progress of his art, by observing the effect of the processes separately, and in combination.

If a man retains his health and spirits during the process, improves in WIND, and increases in strength, it is certain that the object intended will be obtained. But if otherwise, it is to be apprehended that some defect exists, through the unskilfulness or mismanagement of the trainer, which ought instantly to be remedied by such alterations as the circumstances of the case may demand. It is evident, therefore, that, in many instances, the trainer must be guided by his judgment, and that no fixed rules of management can, with absolute certainty, be depended upon, for producing an invariable and determinate result. But, in general, it may be calculated, that the known rules are adequate to the purpose, if the pedestrian strictly adheres to them, and the trainer bestows a moderate degree of attention to his state and condition during the progress of the training.

It is farther necessary to remark, that the trainer, before he proceeds to apply his theory, should make himself acquainted with the constitution and habits of his patient, that he may be able to judge how far he can, with safety, carry the different parts of the process. The nature of his disposition should also be known, that every cause of irritation may be avoided; for, as it requires great patience and perseverance to undergo training, every expedient to soothe and encourage the mind should be adopted.

It is impossible to fix a precise period for the completion of the training process, as it depends upon the condition of the pedestrian; but from two to three months, in most cases, will be sufficient, especially if he be in tolerable condition at the commencement, and possessed of sufficient perseverance and courage to submit cheerfully to the privations and hardships to which he must unavoidably be subjected.

Training is indispensably necessary to those who are to engage in corporeal exertions beyond their ordinary powers. Pedestrians, therefore, who are matched either against others or against time; and pugilists, who engage to fight; must undergo the training process before they contend, as the issue of the contest, if their powers be nearly equal, will, in a great measure, depend upon their relative condition. But the advantages of the training system are not confined to pedestrians and pugilists alone. They extend to every man; and were training generally introduced, instead of medicines, as an expedient for the prevention and cure of diseases, its beneficial consequences would promote his happiness, and prolong his life.

It is well known to physiologists, that both the solids and fluids which compose the human frame are successively absorbed and deposited. Hence a perpetual renovation of the parts ensues, regulated, as they are, by the nature of our food and general habits[30]. It, therefore, follows, that our health, vigour, and activity, must depend upon regimen and exercise, or, in other words, upon the observance of those rules which constitute the theory of the training process. The effect has accordingly corresponded with the cause in all instances where training has been adopted; and, although not commonly resorted to as the means of restoring invalids to health, yet there is every reason to believe, that it would prove effectual in curing many obstinate diseases, such as the gout, rheumatism, bilious complaints, &c. &c.

“Training (says Mr. Jackson,) always appears to improve the state of the lungs. One of the most striking effects is to improve the wind; that is, it enables a man to draw a larger inspiration, and to hold his breath longer.” He farther observes,—“By training, the mental faculties are also improved. The attention is more ready, and the perception more acute, probably owing to the clearness of the stomach, and better digestion[31].”

It has been made a question whether training produces a lasting, or only a temporary effect on the constitution. It is undeniable, that if a man be brought to a better condition; if corpulency, and the impurities of his body, disappear; and if his wind and strength be improved by any process whatever, his good state of health will continue, until some derangement of his frame shall take place from accidental or natural causes. If he shall relapse into intemperance, or neglect the means of preserving his health, either by omitting to take the necessary exercise, or by indulging in debilitating propensities, he must expect such encroachments to be made on his constitution, as must soon unhinge his system. But if he shall observe a different plan, the beneficial effects of the training process will remain until the gradual decay of his natural functions shall, in mature old age, intimate the approach of his dissolution.

The ancients entertained this opinion.—“They were,” says Dr. Buchan, “by no means unacquainted with, or inattentive to, these instruments of medicine, although modern practitioners appear to have no idea of removing disease, or restoring health, but by pouring drugs into the stomach. Herodicus is said to have been the first who applied the exercises and regimen of the gymnasium to the removal of disease, or the maintenance of health. Among the Romans, Asclepiades carried this so far, that he is said by Celsus almost to have banished the use of internal remedies from his practice. He was the inventor of pensile beds, which were used to induce sleep, and of various other modes of exercise and gestation, and rose to great eminence as a physician in Rome. In his own person he afforded an excellent example of the wisdom of his rules, and the propriety of his regimen. Pliny tells us that, in early life, he made a public profession that he would agree to forfeit all pretensions to the name of a physician, should he ever suffer from sickness, or die but of old age; and, what is more extraordinary, he fulfilled his promise, for he lived upwards of a century, and at last was killed by a fall down stairs[32].”

It may therefore be admitted, that the beneficial consequences, both to the body and the mind, arising from training, are not merely temporary, but may be made permanent by proper care and attention. The simplicity of the rules is a great recommendation to those who may be desirous of trying the experiment, and the whole process may be resolved into the following principles: 1st, The evacuating, which cleanses the stomach and intestines.—2d, The sweating, which takes off the superfluities of flesh and fat.—3d, The daily course of exercise, which improves the wind, and strengthens the muscles;—and, lastly, The regimen, which nourishes and invigorates the body.

The criterion by which it may be known whether a man be in good condition, or, what is the same thing, has been properly trained, is the state of the skin, which becomes smooth, elastic, and well-coloured, or transparent.—The flesh is also firm, and the person trained, feels himself light, and full of spirits. But in the progress of the training, his condition may be ascertained by the effect of the sweats, which cease to reduce his weight; and by the manner in which he performs one mile at the top of his speed. It is as difficult to run a mile at the top of one’s speed, as to walk a hundred, and therefore, if he performs this short distance well, it may be concluded, that his condition is perfect, or that he has derived all the advantages which can possibly result from the training process.

The manner of training jockies is different from that which is applicable to pedestrians and pugilists. In regard to jockies, it is generally wasting, with the view to reduce their weight. This is produced by purgatives, emetics, sweats, and starvation. Their bodily strength is of no importance, as they have only to manage the reins of the courser, whose fleetness depends upon the weight he carries; and the muscular power of the rider is of no consequence to the race, provided it be equal to the fatigue of a three or four-mile heat.

Training for pugilism is nearly the same as for pedestrianism, the object in both being principally to obtain additional wind and strength.—But it will be best illustrated by a detail of the process observed by Crib, the champion of England, preparatory to his grand battle with Molineaux, which took place on the 29th of September 1811.

The champion arrived at Ury on the 7th of July of that year. He weighed sixteen stones; and from his mode of living in London, and the confinement of a crowded city, he had become corpulent, big-bellied, full of gross humours, and short-breathed; and it was with difficulty he could walk ten miles. He first went through a course of physic, which consisted of three dozes; but for two weeks he walked about as he pleased, and generally traversed the woods and plantations with a fowling-piece in his hand. The reports of his musquet resounded everywhere through the groves and the hollows of that delightful place, to the great terror of the magpies and wood-pigeons.

After amusing himself in this way for about a fortnight, he then commenced his regular walking exercise, which at first was about ten or twelve miles a day. It was soon after increased to eighteen or twenty; and he ran regularly, morning and evening, a quarter of a mile at the top of his speed. In consequence of his physic and exercise, his weight was reduced, in the course of five weeks, from sixteen stones to fourteen and nine pounds. At this period, he commenced his sweats, and took three during the month he remained at Ury afterwards; and his weight was gradually reduced to thirteen stones and five pounds, which was ascertained to be his pitch of condition, as he would not reduce farther without weakening.

During the course of his training, the champion went twice to the Highlands, and took strong exercise. He walked to Mar Lodge, which is about sixty miles distant from Ury, where he arrived to dinner on the second day, being now able to go thirty miles a day with ease, and probably he could have walked twice as far if it had been necessary. He remained in the Highlands about a week each time, and amused himself with shooting. The principal advantage which he derived from these expeditions was the severe exercise he was obliged to undergo in following Capt. Barclay. He improved more in strength and wind by his journies to the Highlands than by any other part of the training process.

His diet and drink were the same as used in the pedestrian regimen, and in other respects, the rules previously laid down were generally applied to him. That he was brought to his ultimate pitch of condition, was evident from the high state of health and strength in which he appeared when he mounted the stage to contend with Molineaux, who has since confessed, that when he saw his fine condition, he totally despaired of gaining the battle.

Crib was altogether about eleven weeks under training, but he remained only nine weeks at Ury. Besides his regular exercise, he was occasionally employed in sparring at Stonehaven, where he gave lessons in the pugilistic art. He was not allowed much rest, but was constantly occupied in some active employment. He enjoyed good spirits, being all the time fully convinced that he would beat his antagonist. He was managed, however, with great address, and the result corresponded with the wishes of his friends.

It would be perhaps improper, while speaking of Crib, to omit mentioning, that, during his residence in the north of Scotland, he conducted himself in all respects with much propriety. He shewed traits of a feeling, humane, and charitable disposition, on various occasions.—While walking along Union-street in Aberdeen, he was accosted by a woman apparently in great distress. Her story affected him, and the emotions of his heart became evident in the muscles of his face. He gave her all the silver he had in his pocket.—“God bless your Honor,” she said, “ye are surely not an ordinary man!”—This circumstance is mentioned with the more pleasure, as it affords one instance at least, in opposition to the mistaken opinion, that professional pugilists are ferocious, and totally destitute of the better propensities of mankind. The illustrious Mr. Windham entertained juster sentiments of the pugilistic art, as evinced by the print he presented to Mr. Jackson as a mark of his esteem. In one compartment, an Italian darting his stiletto at his victim is represented; and in the other, the combat of two Englishmen in a ring. For this celebrated genius was always of opinion, that nothing tended more to preserve among the English peasantry those sentiments of good faith and honour which have ever distinguished them from the natives of Italy and Spain, than the frequent practice of fair and open Boxing.

CHAPTER VII.
ON THE PHYSICAL POWERS OF MAN.

The mechanical construction of MAN is admirably adapted to his destination. His body is neither too large nor too small; but of that convenient size which fits him for the station in which he is placed. Were it larger, his activity, and even his strength in proportion to his bulk, would be diminished; and he would thus be deprived of many of those enjoyments which contribute so much to his happiness.—He would lose the services of some of the most useful of the inferior animals; especially those of the Horse, whose power is limited to a degree of strength not much exceeding the carriage of the weight of a man. On the other hand, a diminutive race could neither accomplish those great undertakings which are required for their comfort, nor, perhaps, be able to maintain the dominion of the earth against the beast of the forest. But man enjoys every advantage which can be derived from the exact adjustment of his capacity to his duty; and if he be “fearfully and wonderfully made,” it is in perfect consistency with that wisdom which is displayed in all the works of nature.

As, in this world, man has been placed in the first rank of created beings, his mental powers are not only incomparably beyond those of other animals, but his physical strength also exceeds that of most of them. An ingenious Frenchman ascertained the strength of the human frame, by placing on every part of a man’s body, standing upright, a number of weights in such a manner, that each part supported as much as it could bear relatively to the rest; and it was found by this contrivance, that a man could stand under two thousand pounds.

The bulk of the body of a horse is to that of a man as six or seven are to one; so that, if his strength were proportionate to that of our species, he ought to bear a load of twelve or fourteen thousand pounds; but no horse could carry such a weight; and his strength, therefore, allowing for the difference of size, is not equal to that of man.

In a memoir presented to the National Institute of France, M. Coulomb suggested the idea of ascertaining the quantity of daily action which men are able to furnish by individual labour, according to the different modes in which they employ their strength. And it has been said that, if all the strength a man could exert in a day, were united into a single effort, he could lift (one foot from the ground,) a weight equal to one million seven hundred and twenty-eight thousand pounds, without injuring himself.

The Dynanometer, of M. Regnier, has afforded some curious results regarding the strength of the people of different nations. In the years 1800-1-2-3, and 4, M. Peron sailed on a voyage of discovery with Captains Baudin and Hamelin, in the French ships Le Geographe, and Le Naturaliste; and in the first volume of his Voyage de Decouvertes aux Terres Australes, he gives an account of some experiments he made with this new instrument to ascertain the comparative strength which individuals are capable of exerting.

According to the Dynanometer, M. Peron found, that the inhabitants of the countries under-mentioned, were capable of exerting a force as follows, viz.

| Strength of the Hands. Killegrammes. | Do. Loins. Myriagrames.
SAVAGES. |  |
Of Diemen’s Land, | 50 | 6 | 0 | 0
Of New Holland, | 51 | 8 | 14 | 8
Of Timor, | 58 | 7 | 16 | 2
EUROPEANS. |  |
French, | 69 | 2 | 22 | 1
English, | 71 | 4 | 23 | 8

From the above experiments it appears, that men in a savage state, are not so strong as those under the influence of civilization; “and thus it is demonstrated, that the improvement of social order does not impair our physical powers, as some persons have imagined.” And it is also evident, that Englishmen possess more strength than Frenchmen; a fact that has been proved as often as our soldiers have charged the French army with the bayonet.

The strength and activity of the human frame arise from the muscular conformation of its parts, and their constant EXERCISE.—Those habituated to carry burdens will bear a load of from six to eight hundred pounds; while other men, of the same weight and apparent strength, would find it difficult to carry more than one hundred and fifty, to two hundred pounds. This difference is the effect of practice; as nature proportionally augments the power of those parts of the body which are most exerted.

From the same cause, watermen, fishermen, and sailors, who are accustomed to the use of the oar, acquire great strength in their arms; but, indeed, the position of the rower is the best calculated of any, for exerting and increasing the muscular power of the body, as every part must be employed at the same time. Accordingly, that hardy race of men whose occupation leads them to ply the oar on our rivers, and along the sea coast, are the strongest and most robust of our species.

Pedestrianism also depends on practice; for the citizen, whose excursions are limited to six or seven miles on a holiday, would be as much fatigued by a walk of double that distance, as a person in the country who is accustomed to travel, would be, by the accomplishment of a journey of fifty or sixty miles. Such is the nature of our physical and intellectual faculties, that they can be improved only by calling them into action, or what is the same thing, they can only be invigorated by the resistance they offer to the pressure of difficulties, and acquire power, therefore, in proportion to the obstacles which they have to overcome.

The strength and activity of men who are inured to the exercise of walking, are truly astonishing. They will travel farther for a week or a month than a horse, and, if habituated to hunting, they will outrun him, and continue the chace much longer. The American Indians, it is said by travellers, pursue the elk with such rapidity, that they are able to fatigue and secure him, although he is as swift as the stag. It is also related of those men, that they will go journies of a thousand leagues in six weeks or two months; or at the rate of about sixty miles a day, over the most rugged mountains, and through tractless countries.

But feats more astonishing than those performed by the Indians, or any other nation, have been accomplished of late years in Britain. Captain Barclay walked one hundred and ten miles in nineteen hours and twenty-seven minutes; and Glanville went a hundred and forty-two miles in twenty-nine hours. In the pages of this volume, we have recorded many examples of the almost incredible strength, agility, and perseverance of modern pedestrians. And as EXERCISE, particularly on foot, is attended by so many advantages to mankind, the Author thinks, he cannot conclude this work with any observations more apposite to the subject than those of the amiable Christopher Christian Sturm. “Man, (says he,) in a state of civilization, does not know how much strength he possesses; how much he loses by effeminacy, nor how much he can acquire by frequent exercise. We cannot but regard with pity those indolent beings, who pass their lives in idleness and effeminacy; who never exert their strength, nor exercise their powers, for fear of injuring their health, or shortening their lives.”

“Let us, in future, therefore, exert all our powers and faculties for the good of our fellow creatures, according to our situation and circumstances; and, if necessity require, let us cheerfully earn our bread by the sweat of our brow; even then our happiness is greater than that of thousands of our fellow men;” and “the more happy we find our lot compared with [that of] the unfortunate victims of LUXURY, the more seriously ought we to apply ourselves to fulfil our duties.”—Sturm’s Reflections, Sept. XV.

APPENDIX.
No. I.
GENEALOGY OF THE FAMILY OF BARCLAY OF MATHERS AND URY, IN THE COUNTY OF MEARNS.

Robert Barclay Allardice, Esq. of Ury, in Kincardineshire, is descended from an ancient and honourable family. We can trace his progenitors so far back as to the third year of the reign of Alexander I. son to Malcolm III. king of Scotland; and the tenth of Henry I. son to William the Conqueror; or, to the year 1110.

In the time of William the Lion, there were four eminent persons in Scotland, of the name of Berkeley, or Berkelai, sprung from the same stock, and united by consanguinity, viz. Walter, William, Humphrey, and Robert. The two first were great chamberlains of the kingdom. Walter is so designed in a donation granted by him to the monks of Aberbrothwick, of the church of Innerkelder, in the county of Angus, which is confirmed by William the Lion, and still preserved in the Advocates’ Library of Edinburgh, and also in the Charter of Aberdeen, which remains in perfect preservation in the Record Office of that city. William is likewise designed chamberlain, in a deed granted by the king to the monks of the Cistertian order, which is copied from the original by Anderson, in his Independency of Scotland.

Walter de Berkeley was one of the pledges for William the Lion, to Henry the Second of England, as mentioned in Abercrombie’s history. He was appointed chamberlain in 1165, and was one of those who returned to Scotland with William, about the close of the year 1174[33]. Walter left two daughters only, one of whom, according to Nicols’ Peerage, was married to Seten of Seton, the predecessor of the Earl of Winton.

From these circumstances, it is a natural deduction, that the Berkeley family must have been settled in Scotland long previously to this period. They enjoyed the confidence of the king, and held the highest offices in the state, which would not probably have been the case with men of low extraction, or who had recently emerged from obscurity.

But it appears by charters of confirmation from William the Lion, that Walter de Berkeley of Innerkelder, was cotemporary with, and cousin-german to, Humphrey, the son of Theobald de Berkeley, the original of the family of Mathers, in the county of Kincardine. Theobald lived in the time of Alexander the First, and David the First, kings of Scotland, having been born about the year 1110; and he had two sons, Humphrey and John. Humphrey, being in possession of a large domain in the county of Kincardine, granted a donation to the abbot and monks of Aberbrothwick, from the lands of Balfeith, Monboddo, Glenfarquhar, &c. which is witnessed by Willielmo et Waltero Capellanis dom. regis, Willielmo Cummin, Willielmo Gifford, Phillipo de Moubray, Dom. de Arbuthenot, Phillipo de Mallevill, Johanne de Monfort, Waltero Scot, et Waltero filio suo, Agatha sponsa mea, cum multis aliis. This donation was confirmed by William the Lion, before these witnesses: Waltero et Willielmo Capellanis nostris, Will. Cummin, Phillipo de Moubray, Roberto de Lunden, Roberto de Berkeley, cum multis aliis; apud Forfar, XXVI. Martii.

Humphrey’s donation was renewed and augmented by Richenda, his only child and daughter, with consent of her husband, Robert, the son of Warnebald, ancestor to the Earl of Glencairn. The witnesses to this deed were, Dom. J. Wishart, vicesm. de Mernis, et Johanne filio ejus; Dom. Duncano de Arbuthenot, et filio ejus; Humphreo de Middleton, cum multis aliis. This second grant was confirmed by Alexander II.; the witnesses being A. Abbato de Melross, Ro. Abbato de Newbottle, Tho. de Hay, Alex. de Seton, cum multis aliis, vicesimo die Martii, anno regni nostri, vicesimo quarto. After the death of Robert the son of Warnebald, the monks prevailed on his widow, Richenda, to dispone these lands to them for the third time; et ad majus hujus rei testimonium, in posterum una cum sigillo meo huic scripto, sigillum venerab. patris nostri R. Abredonensis episc. et sigillum Domini Anselm Cammel feci apponi coram his test. Dom. A. Archide Brechin, Dom Nigello de Moubray, Dom. Roberto de Montealto, et Dom. Will. de Hunyter, cum multis aliis. This third deed was confirmed by Alexander II. at Aberbrothwick, the 7th March, (anno 1236,) and thirty-second year of his reign. Coram test. venerab. patr. Ro. Epis. Abre; Willielmo Comite de Marr, Waltero de Moravii, R. de Montealto.

These six documents, viz. the three donations, and the three respective confirmations, were extracted from the Chartulary of Aberbrothwick, which still remains in the Advocates’ Library of Edinburgh, and they may, therefore, be deemed quite authentic.

Humphrey, and his daughter Richenda, having died without male issue, John de Berkeley, the brother of Humphrey, succeeded, and, being dissatisfied with the alienations they had made, he turned the abbot and monks out of all their possessions in his domains. But he was obliged to compromise the matter with them; and, with the concurrence of his heir Robert, he gave them the mill of Conveth, with its appurtenances, in lieu of the lands of which he dispossessed them, burdened, however, with the yearly payment of thirteen merks of silver to him and his heirs.

This agreement was not only signed and sealed by the abbot and monks of Aberbrothwick; by John, and his heir, Robert de Berkeley; but also, una cum sigillis vener. virorum Greg. Episco. Brechin, et, Dom. Willielmo de Bosco, Dom. Regis Can. et Dom. de Lunden, fratris illustr. Regis Alex. apponi procururerent; coram test. Willielmo Capellaro, Dom. Episco. Brechin, Mag. Andrea de Perth, Mag. Hugo de Milbourn, cum multis aliis. This deed was confirmed at Dundee, by King Alexander II.; coram test. Greg. Episco. Brechin, Willielmo de Bosco, nostro cancellario; Ro. de Lunden, nostro fratre; Hugo Cameron, cum multis aliis. These deeds have been preserved in the Chartulary of Aberbrothwick, from which they were extracted; and they sufficiently establish, that Theobald, Humphrey, and John, must have lived in the time of Alexander I. David I. Malcolm IV. William the Lion, and Alexander II. kings of Scotland, who were cotemporary with Henry I., Stephen, Henry II. the first of the Plantagenets; Richard I. and John, kings of England.—Upon the demise of John, the son of Humphrey, he was succeeded by his son,

(3.) Robert de Berkeley, who, as it is already observed, consented to the agreement between his father, and the abbot and monks of Aberbrothwick. He was succeeded by his son,

(4.) Hugh de Berkeley, who obtained a charter from King Robert Bruce, upon Westerton, being lands lying near the mill of Conveth, in Kincardineshire.

(5.) Alexander de Berkeley succeeded his father, Hugh, and to the paternal estates added Mathers, in consequence of his marrying Catharine, sister to William de Keith, marischal of Scotland, as vouched by a charter, dated anno 1351, granted by William de Keith, “with consent (as the deed expresses it) of Margaret, my wife, to Alexander de Berkeley, and Catharine, my sister, his spouse, and the longest liver of them two, and the heirs male of their bodies, my lands of Mathers, datum apud mansum capitale nostrum de Strathekin, die Martii inventione sanctæ crucis, anno 1351. Coram test. reverendo in Christo patr. Dom. Philippo, Dei gratia, Episc. Brechin. Dom. Willielmo eædem gratia Abbato de Aberbrothwick, David de Fleming, Willielmo de Liddel, militibus; Johan. de Seton, et aliis.” This charter is confirmed by King David Bruce, at Perth, the 18th of March, and twenty-first of his reign: coram test. Roberto seneschallo, nepote nostro, (the first king of Scotland of the Stewart race,) Tho. Seneschal, comite de Angus, Tho. de Moravii panacri nostro Scotiæ, Roberto de Erskine, et Tho. de Falside, militibus.

The original charter from William de Keith, and the confirmation by David Bruce, are both in the possession of Mr. Barclay of Ury.

(6.) David de Berkeley, 2d of Mathers, succeeded to his father Alexander; and he married the daughter of John de Seton, who witnessed the above charter from William de Keith. His son,

(7.) Alexander de Berkeley, 3d of Mathers, was his successor, and he married Helen, the daughter of Græme of Morphy. Their son,

(8.) David de Berkeley, 4th of Mathers, succeeding, built the castle, called the Keim of Mathers. He married Elisabeth, the daughter of Strachan of Thornton, then an ancient and flourishing family in the Mearns.

(9.) Alexander Barclay, 5th of Mathers, succeeded his father, David de Berkeley: and he was the first of the family who spelled the name as it is done at present. He married Catharine Wishart, the daughter of Wishart of Pitarrow, and was succeeded by his son,

(10.) David Barclay, 6th of Mathers, who married Janet, daughter of Irvine of Drum, then one of the most considerable families in the shire of Aberdeen. His eldest son was

(11.) Alexander Barclay, 7th of Mathers, who married Marjory, daughter of James Auchinleck of Glenbervie. Auchinleck obtained the estate of Glenbervie, by marrying the daughter of Melvil, the proprietor, who was sheriff of the Mearns, and murdered by the barons. James Auchinleck had two daughters, but no male heir; and the elder was married to Sir William Douglas, the second son of the famous Earl of Angus, called Bell the Cat. By this marriage, the Douglasses got the estate of Glenbervie.

Alexander Barclay sold the lands of Slains and Falside in the Mearns, to Andrew Moncur of Knapp, to whom he granted a charter to be held of himself and his heirs, dated anno 1497. He also granted a precept of Clare constat. to Sir James Ogilvie of Deskford, predecessor to the Earl of Findlater, for infesting him in the lands of Durn, of which he was superior. This precept bears date the 29th April 1510, at Kirktonhill, which was then the principal seat of the family of Mathers. Alexander was succeeded by his son,

(12.) George Barclay, 8th of Mathers, who married Marjory, daughter of Sir James Auchterlony, of Auckterlony and Kellie, then a considerable family in the shire of Angus.—His son’s name was,

(13.) David Barclay, 9th of Mathers, who married first Mary, daughter to Rait of Halgreen, by whom he had George, who succeeded him. He married for his second wife, Catharine Home, and had by her a son named John, to whom he gave the lands of Johnston in the Mearns, as established by Barclay of Johnston’s first charter, dated anno 1560. Barclay of Balmaquean is a cadet of the Johnston family. David Barclay was succeeded by his first son,

(14.) George Barclay, 10th of Mathers, who married Mary Erskine, daughter to Sir Thomas Erskine of Brechin, secretary of state to James V. of Scotland. He married for his second wife, Margaret, daughter to Wood of Bonnington in Angus, afterwards baronets, and now represented by James Wood, Esq. of Woodburnden, in the county of the Mearns; and by her he had a son, to whom he gave the lands of Bridgeton and Jackstown, in the Mearns. His first son succeeded to the estate, and his name was

(15.) Thomas Barclay, 11th of Mathers, who married Janet, daughter to Straiton of Lauristown in the Mearns, a very ancient and honourable family. Thomas Barclay died before his father, leaving only one son,

(16.) David Barclay, 12th of Mathers, who was born anno 1580. He was polite and accomplished, and lived much at Court; but a taste for show and extravagance, led him to indulge in every fashionable expense, by which he greatly impaired his property, and he sold five valuable estates. He was twice married: first, to Elizabeth, the daughter of Livingston of Dunnipace, by whom he had five sons and a daughter; second, to Margaret Keith, grand-child to Earl Marischal. To his daughter he gave a handsome fortune, and to his sons a liberal education. The two eldest died when young: David, the third son, became eminently conspicuous: Robert, the fourth, was rector of the Scots College at Paris; and James, the youngest, was a captain of horse, and was killed at the battle of Philiphaugh, on the 13th September 1645, where he gallantly signalized himself.

(17.) Colonel David Barclay, the first of Ury, and third son of David of Mathers, was born at Kirktonhill in the county of Kincardine, in the year 1610. After being instructed in every accomplishment of the age, he went to Germany, and entered a volunteer in the Swedish service, under the great Gustavus Adolphus. His manly and elegant appearance soon attracted the attention of his majesty, and he acquired a high reputation for courage and bravery. He merited and obtained the distinguished favour of Adolphus. But his fame as an active and experienced soldier having reached his native country, he was pressingly solicited by his friends to return home to take a part in the civil wars with which Scotland was then distracted.

Accordingly, in the year 1646, as a proof of his character and high merit, we find him colonel of a regiment of horse, and at the head of an army quelling an insurrection raised by the Earl of Crawford, who, with a number of Scots and Irish troops had burned several towns, and ravaged the northern parts of the kingdom. The colonel came up with the earl at Banff, entirely routed him, and committed great slaughter among the Irish, who had perpetrated many acts of wanton barbarity throughout the country. In the same year, General Middleton and the colonel were sent with an army to relieve the town of Inverness, at that time besieged by the renowned Marquis of Montrose, and Earl Seaforth. Colonel Barclay, at the head of his regiment, forced the ford of the river Ness, where the enemy was strongly posted; and, being well supported by Middleton, attacked and drove them to the mountains, taking all their cannon and baggage. Inverness being thus relieved, the army retired to the south country; but the Marquis of Huntly taking advantage of its absence, attacked the town of Aberdeen, and became master of it, although bravely defended by the citizens and two regiments under the command of Colonel Harry Barclay, a relative of Colonel David’s, who was taken prisoner, with twenty of his officers. To dispossess Huntly, the parliament, in April 1647, sent Middleton and the colonel again to the north; but the marquis did not think proper to wait their approach, and hastily retreated to the Highlands. To prevent his return, however, they took possession of his strong holds, in which they placed garrisons. Colonel Barclay was appointed governor of Strathbogie and Middleton, of the Bog of Gight, now Castle Gordon.

In the following year, the colonel found leisure to attend to his domestic concerns, and married Catharine, eldest daughter of Sir Robert Gordon of Gordonston, who was second son of the Earl of Sutherland, by Jane, daughter of the Marquis of Huntly. Sir Robert Gordon was cousin to King James the Sixth of Scotland, by his grandmother, Lady Helen Stewart, his majesty’s grand-aunt; and being a man of great parts, was highly esteemed at Court. As the different estates which formerly belonged to the Barclays of Mathers, were now nearly all disposed of by the colonel’s father, he entered into a contract with Earl Marischal for the barony of Ury, where he fixed the future residence of the family, which has since been designed by the name of that property.

Colonel Barclay being an active and experienced officer, and perfectly devoted to the cause in which he had engaged, was appointed to command in the shires of Ross, Sutherland, and Caithness. The nation at that time was much interested in the fate of Charles I.; and the parliament of Scotland sent an army to his assistance in England, under the Duke of Hamilton; and the internal protection of the kingdom was committed to the Earl of Lanark, the laird of Gartland, and Colonel Barclay. The whole country to the north of the Tay, including the town of Perth, was placed under the colonel’s authority; and he executed this important commission with vigour and fidelity. But the Duke of Hamilton’s overthrow at Preston, destroyed the hopes of his friends; and the opposite party gaining the ascendancy, through Cromwell’s means, Colonel Barclay, and many other officers, were deprived of their commands.

From this time, it appears that the colonel laid aside his military character, and lived for several years in retirement at Gordonston, in Morayshire, the seat of his father-in law. But his friend, Earl Marischal, having been taken prisoner by General Monk at Elliot in Angus, and his estates seized, the barony of Ury was included in the forfeiture, on the pretence that it was not fully conveyed by the earl. Colonel Barclay was advised to obtain a seat in the Scots parliament, which would afford him the only means of recovering his property. He was accordingly elected for Sutherlandshire, through the interest of his cousin, the Earl of Sutherland; but he was returned to the next parliament by the counties of Angus and Mearns, through his own influence. He became so popular indeed, by his services, to the nobility and gentry of these districts, that he received their public thanks; and as a mark of their entire satisfaction with his conduct, they again elected him their representative in the year 1656. The colonel obtained the reversal of the forfeiture of his estate, and continued in parliament, successfully exerting himself in behalf of his friends and the distressed loyalists.

For several years, nothing remarkable occurred in Colonel Barclay’s life that deserves our particular consideration; but in 1663, he was unexpectedly arrested and thrown into Edinburgh Castle, by an order from Government. As no crime was alleged against him, he was soon liberated; but it does not appear that he received any compensation for the injury. His arrest was the more surprising, as he had suffered so much in the royal cause, and his principles were well known to be favourable to the Restoration. It is probable, indeed, that this event arose from the resentment of some personal enemy; for malevolence often pursues the best of men, and those eminent for their virtues are by no means exempted from its baneful effects.

Colonel Barclay’s military and political career had now drawn to a close; and his future life was devoted to study, religious abstraction, the practice of charity, and all the benevolent and amiable pursuits of the human mind. In the year 1666, he joined the sect called Quakers, and became as eminent for piety and zeal, in private life, as he had before been distinguished for courage and intrepidity in the field. Religious disputes, however, running high in the country, his life was checquered by many indignities and insults. Those who had caressed him, while at the head of an army, by every flattering mark of respect, now forgot their benefactor, and cruelly sought to embitter his days by persecution. But he steadily adhered to his principles; for it could scarcely be supposed, that a man who had been bred in the camp of the great Adolphus—who had fought for liberty of conscience, and had braved all the dangers of war—could be either intimidated, or diverted from his purpose by the assaults of power, or the threatening clamour of a senseless rabble.

The colonel now generally resided at Ury, enjoying the society of his friends, and disseminating among his neighbours the doctrines of the Quakers. Many of “good account” embraced their tenets; and weekly and monthly meetings of these peaceable and religious people were held at Ury, for devotional exercises. But the clergy looked on them with an eye of jealousy, and stirred up against them the malicious passions of weak and intolerant men. And in the month of March 1676, Colonel Barclay and others, were indicted at Aberdeen, before a committee of the privy-council, for holding meetings contrary to a statute enacted against armed field conventicles, which, under every latitude of interpretation, could not be applied to Quakers. They were, however, found guilty, and amerced in a fine to the amount of a fourth part of their respective valued rents, and committed to prison until payment should be made.

The colonel’s son, the celebrated Apologist, was at that time in London, and having much interest at Court, obtained his father’s liberation. But the magistrates of Aberdeen were so enraged that he should thus escape from their power, that they illegally granted a warrant to distrain his goods, and sent a Captain Melvill to put it in execution, although, his residence being in another county, he was evidently beyond their jurisdiction. Melvill was a low fellow, who had formerly been a trooper in the colonel’s regiment, and was therefore personally known to him; but he had acquired all the insolence of office, and, presuming on the support of the magistrates, drove off the cattle and horses at Ury. In June 1677, he was again imprisoned, along with his son, in the chapel prison of Aberdeen; for the magistrates pursued him and his friends with no moderate degree of malignancy. They were, however, relieved by an order from the Court, in which the magistrates were severely reprimanded for their oppressive conduct.

On this occasion, a friend of Colonel Barclay’s could not avoid regretting the difference of times, and contrasting his present situation, with that when he rescued the city of Aberdeen from the oppressions of Huntly. But this worthy man replied, “that, although the magistrates usually came miles to meet him when he had the command of an army, and, to gain his favour, conducted him amidst the acclamations of the people to an entertainment prepared for him in the town-hall, yet he was more proud, and felt more real satisfaction, in his sufferings for the cause of religion and virtue, than in all the fleeting honours with which they had then distinguished him.”

From this time, Colonel Barclay enjoyed a state of calm and dignified repose. His latter days were sweetened by family endearment, and all the charms of a country life. This brave, sincere, and religious man, died, anno 1686, in the 77th year of his age, and was buried in a cemetery at Ury, which he had caused to be constructed for himself and his posterity. In this humble mausoleum his grave is still to be seen, and it is distinguished for its length; for he was one of the tallest, strongest, and most handsome men in the kingdom.

Colonel Barclay had five children, viz.

Robert, the Apologist, his heir and successor.

Jean, married to Sir Evan Cameron of Locheill.

David, who died on his passage to East Jersey.

Lucy, who died in April 1687, aged 33.

——, who died in East Jersey, in 1731.

(18.) Robert Barclay, generally known by the title of the Apologist, was born on the 28th of December 1648, at Gordonston in Morayshire, the seat of his maternal grandfather. After being educated in the best schools in Scotland, he was placed under the tuition of his uncle, who was rector of the Scots College in Paris. He gave early presages of great genius, and acquired much proficiency in all the learned sciences and elegant accomplishments of the times. He soon became conspicuous, and was particularly noticed for his vivacity and acuteness in the public disputations of the seminary, where he gained many prizes. His uncle was extremely solicitous to detain him in France; but his mother, on her death-bed, had strongly enjoined his removal from the college, lest he should imbibe the errors of popery. In obedience to parental authority, he returned home in 1664, and thus lost his uncle’s fortune and favour, to gratify his father’s conscientious compliance with the prejudiced but pious notions of his mother. Though destitute of wealth, he possessed what was more valuable, for his mind was deeply fraught with the riches of literature.

Soon after his return to Scotland, he joined the society called Quakers, and became their greatest ornament and ablest advocate. Previously, however, to his embracing the opinions of that sect, he visited his friends of all religious persuasions, to canvass their doctrines, that he might adopt a system of faith corresponding to the truths of the gospel; and, by conviction alone, as we are informed, he was guided in his choice. But probably, when in France, he had formed an attachment to the Quietists, who were the Quakers among Roman Catholics.

In the year 1670, he married Christian Molison, of the family of Lachintully, the grand-daughter of the celebrated Colonel Molison, who so much signalized himself in the defence of Candia against the Turks. About this time, he first appeared as an author, by a work, entitled, “Truth cleared of Calumnies,” which is an answer to “A Dialogue between a Quaker and a Stable Christian,” written by William Mitchell, a preacher, and printed at Aberdeen. A keen controversy then subsisted between the clergy of Aberdeen and the Quakers, relative to the doctrines of the latter, which, warmly interesting Barclay, called forth his talents as a polemical writer; and in the same year, he published a postscript in the form of questions. Mitchell replied to “Truth cleared of Calumnies,” and our author again answered him in a work, entitled, “William Mitchell unmasked,” which was published in 1672. In this controversy, Robert Barclay discovers the variety of his learning, and that he was well acquainted with ecclesiastical history; but above all, he shews with how much judgment and dexterity he could apply his knowledge in support of his religious opinions.

In 1673, he published “A Catechism and Confession of Faith,” which is an exposition of the doctrines and principles of the Quakers, supported by an appeal to Scripture testimony. His next publication is the “Theses Theologicæ,” which were addressed “to the clergy of what sort soever,” and contain fifteen propositions, on which he gives his sentiments, and explains them in conformity to the principles of his sect. He vindicated his Theses from the strictures of Nicolas Arnold, professor in the university of Franquer in Friesland, by a Latin treatise printed at Amsterdam, in 1675. In the same year, he published an account of a disputation between the students of divinity of the university of Aberdeen and the Quakers, in which he bore a conspicuous part; but, like most religious controversies, it terminated without satisfaction to either party. The students also published an account of this conference, in a pamphlet entitled, “Quakerism canvassed,” which occasioned a reply, entitled, “Quakerism confirmed,” in two parts, both printed in 1676.

Previously to this time, he generally resided at Ury with his father; but in this year he went to London, and thence to Holland, accompanied by William Penn, the celebrated and amiable proprietor of the province of Pennsylvania. These religious men travelled in Holland and Germany, visiting their friends, and disseminating their doctrines. They waited upon Elizabeth, princess-palatine of the Rhine, at her residence at Herwerden, and were kindly received. She seems to have adopted their doctrines, for she openly patronised the Quakers; but her friendship for Barclay was sincere and unfeigned, and lasted during life. She frequently wrote to him with her own hand; and always promoted his views at the court of England, as far as her influence could be of service to him or his friends. When he returned to London, he learned that his father and other Quakers were imprisoned in Aberdeen, for holding meetings in that city. He therefore presented a memorial in their behalf to Charles II. which was delivered by himself into the king’s own hand, who caused his secretary of state, the Duke of Lauderdale, to underwrite upon it a favourable reference to the council of Scotland, which had the desired effect, as they soon after obtained their liberty.

In this year, (1676,) he published “The Apology for True Christian Divinity,” in Latin, at Amsterdam, which is the most celebrated of his works. It is dedicated to King Charles II.; and the dedication is remarkable for the freedom and boldness of sentiment and language in which his majesty is addressed. “Thou hast tasted,” he says, “of prosperity and adversity; thou knowest what it is to be banished thy native country, to be over-ruled as well as to rule, and sit upon the throne; and, being oppressed, thou hast reason to know how hateful the oppressor is both to God and man. If, after all these warnings and advertisements, thou dost not turn to the Lord with all thy heart, but forget him who remembered thee in thy distress, and give up thyself to folly, lust, and vanity—surely great will be thy condemnation.”—The Apology is reared on the “Theses Theologicæ,” being an exposition of the fifteen propositions contained in that work. The author’s general plan is, to state the position he means to establish, and to support it by Scripture quotations applicable to the case, or to deduce it by an argument in the form of a syllogism. By this learned work, he acquired great celebrity as a deep theologian, profoundly skilled in the scriptures, the fathers, and church history. His next publication, which also appeared this year, is entitled, “The Anarchy of the Ranters,” and it is a vindication of the society from the imputation of disorderly practices in their discipline, of which they were accused by their adversaries.

About the end of September, the Apologist returned to Ury; and although he had obtained his father’s release from confinement, yet he was not able to protect himself. On the 7th November 1676, he was committed to prison in Aberdeen, along with several other Quakers, for holding meetings for public worship, and did not regain his liberty until the 9th of April 1677. While in prison, he wrote a treatise, entitled, “Universal Love considered and established upon its right foundation,” which was published after his release.

He left Ury in May, and went to London to exert himself for the deliverance of the Quakers of the north country, who were still harassed by imprisonment and fines, for holding meetings at Aberdeen, in contravention, as it was alleged, of a statute enacted against “armed field conventicles,” which evidently did not apply to these peaceable people. From “Theobalds near London,” he wrote to the princess-palatine on this subject, in which he gives an account of a conversation that passed between him and the Duke of York relative to the sufferings of the Quakers. It appears by this letter, that he had addressed his royal highness in very plain language, for he says, “I told him, I understood from Scotland, that, notwithstanding Lauderdale was there, and had promised to do something before he went, yet our friends’ bonds were rather increased, and that there was only one thing to be done which I desired of him, and that was to write effectually to the Duke of Lauderdale, in that style wherein Lauderdale might understand that he was serious in the business, and did really intend the thing he did write concerning should take effect; which I knew he might do, and I supposed the other might answer; which, if he would do, I must acknowledge as a great kindness. But if he did write, and not in that manner, so that the other might not suppose him to be serious, I would rather he would excuse himself the trouble:—desiring withal, to excuse my plain manner of dealing, as being different from the court way of soliciting: all which he seemed to take in good part, and said he would write as I desired.”—He soon after returned to Ury, and was permitted to enjoy the full exercise of his religion unmolested, until the 9th of November 1679, when he was taken out of a meeting at Aberdeen, as well as several of his friends but they were discharged in a few hours, and never after wards disturbed by the magistrate.

The “Apology,” which had become widely circulated in six different languages, was rudely assailed by John Brown, in a work, entitled, “Quakerism the path-way to Paganism.” To this abusive performance, Barclay replied in vindication of his doctrines; which is the last of his polemical writings that are published. From this period, he was occupied, for the most part, in travelling in England, relative to the concerns of the society; and, when in London in 1682, he was honoured with a public appointment, having received a commission as governor of East Jersey in America. An extensive tract of land in that province, was, at the same time, granted to him and his heirs in fee. Charles II. confirmed his government for life; and the commission is expressed in terms highly flattering to this good man:—“Such are his known fidelity and capacity,” it says, “that he has the government during life; but that every governor after him shall have it for three years only.” He was authorised to appoint a deputy-governor, with a salary of L 400 sterling per annum; and Gavin Laurie, a merchant in London, was accordingly appointed to that office. Having arranged these matters, he returned to Ury; but in summer 1683, he again visited his friends in London. Towards the close of that year, however, he came home and occupied himself in shipping stores, provisions, and other necessaries, from Aberdeen, to the colony of East Jersey, in the prosperity of which he was extremely interested.

In 1685, he went again to London relative to the concerns of the society; but soon returned, and remained at home till April 1687, when, at the earnest solicitation of George Fox and other friends, he set off for court, to exert his influence on behalf of the Quakers. As the king honoured him with his friendship, he had access to his majesty at all times; and on this occasion, he presented an address from the Quakers in Scotland, expressive of their gratitude for his majesty’s proclamation, permitting liberty of conscience, which was graciously received. The Apologist seems to have stood on a footing of great intimacy with the king, and to have conversed with him candidly and freely on the business of the state. Considering the intricacy of his majesty’s affairs at that time, the opinion or advice of a sincere and honest, yet clear-headed man, was, no doubt, highly valued by James. Having accomplished the object of his journey, he returned home.

In November 1688, he was again in London, and embraced that opportunity to take leave of his majesty, with whose misfortunes he was greatly affected. At his last interview with the king, (while they were standing at a window in the palace conversing together,) James looked out and said, “The wind is fair to bring over the Prince of Orange;” the Apologist remarked, “It was hard that no expedient could be fallen upon to satisfy the people.” His majesty replied, “He would do any thing becoming a gentleman, but never would part with his liberty of conscience.” This sentiment, being so consonant to the Apologist’s mind, and corresponding so closely with his own principles and practice, drew forth his approbation; and with mutual regret they parted, to meet no more.

In the month of December he arrived at Ury, and lived retired for nearly two years, enjoying domestic happiness in the bosom of his family. But having gone to Aberdeen about the end of September 1690, to attend a meeting of Quakers, he caught cold while returning home, and, being seized with a fever, it put a period to his life on the 3d of October, after a short but severe illness.

With a mind naturally strong and vigorous, he possessed all the advantages of a regular and classical education; and his writings evidently shew the profundity of his research, as well as the extent and variety of his learning. His mild temper, benevolent heart, and sprightly conversation, gave him influence with men in elevated stations, which he employed not for the benefit of his friends alone. From motives of pure benevolence, he often successfully exerted himself in behalf of others, as well as for the members of the society to which he belonged. If, on one occasion, he inconsiderately betrayed a fervour of zeal in his profession of a preacher, by exposing himself in sackcloth on the streets of Aberdeen in the year 1672, we must concede to him, at least, the merit of sincerity, and, in justice, make every allowance for the ardour of a youthful mind. Although his feelings were warm, yet his passions were subdued by strict discipline; and the practical observance of the rules of moral duty, strengthened and invigorated every virtuous sentiment. Cheerful, yet serene, he withstood the shocks of adversity with fortitude and firmness. Ever active and indefatigable, he composed one of his best works within the walls of a prison; and, in all situations, he was constantly occupied with what he conceived to be for the good of mankind. Considering the shortness of his life, and the time he employed in travelling, it is astonishing that he could write so much and so well. But his works have outlived him; and, in three volumes, the scattered opinions of the society to which he belonged, are collected, arranged, and exhibited to the whole world in elegant uniformity; and throughout Europe and America, “The Apology for True Christian Divinity,” is to be found in the libraries of the wise and the learned[34].

The Apologist had nine children, and was succeeded by his second son, Robert; the first son, David, having died on a voyage to East Jersey, at the age of fifteen. After the family of Ury had embraced the tenets of the amiable society of Friends, it is not to be expected that it could make any conspicuous figure in the transactions of the times. The pursuits of the Quakers being solely directed to objects of benevolence, they are precluded by both principle and practice, from interfering in civil or military contests. During the turbulent periods of 1715 and 45, the Barclays, therefore, took no concern in public affairs, but remained silent spectators of the passing events.

The Apologist’s son, Robert, had seven children, and died anno 1747. He was a man of such polite manners, that he obtained the appellation of the Gentleman, and was distinguished among his cotemporaries by his good sense and affability. He was succeeded by his eldest son,

Robert, who had three sons and one daughter. The grandson of the Apologist was known in the county by the title of the Strong, having possessed great muscular power. He died in the year 1760, and was deemed the richest commoner in the county of Kincardine, having left a free estate and a considerable sum of money to his family. He was succeeded by his eldest son, Robert, the father of Capt. Barclay.

From these three families a numerous race has sprung, and the descendants of the Apologist, at the present time, exceed three hundred. The late Mr. David Barclay of Walthamstow in Essex, (the grandson of the Apologist,) says, “I believe there are more than three hundred of you who call me uncle or cousin.” Those respectable families which claim their descent from the Apologist, are principally settled in England; and, while they have enriched themselves by their industry, they maintain the highest respectability of character.

It does not, however, suit our object to follow the family of Ury through all its branches: it is enough that we take notice of the heir of succession; and the late Mr. Barclay deserves to be particularly mentioned, on account of his great celebrity as an agriculturist.

He was born anno 1731, and succeeded his father, 1760. He received a liberal education, and was an excellent Greek and Latin scholar. He was a noted pedestrian, and frequently walked to London. On one occasion, he walked from London to Ury, (510 miles,) in ten successive days; on another, he walked 210 miles in three days, or at the rate of 70 miles a day. He also went 81 miles in about 16 hours. He never walked to London after he was elected a member of parliament, as erroneously reported; but he had frequently done so before that time. His ordinary pace was six miles an hour. His height was six feet. He was athletic, and of the handsomest form. The vigour of his mind was conspicuous throughout a laborious and active life; and his improvements in agriculture, entitle him to the warmest eulogy of his countrymen.

Mr. Robertson, the intelligent author of the ‘Survey of Kincardineshire,’ has devoted 27 pages of his work to illustrate Mr. Barclay’s agricultural improvements; and, from his account, as there can be no better testimony, we shall extract the following particulars.

‘The man,’ says Mr. Robertson, ‘who exerted himself most for the improvement of the county—whose labours were the most strenuous and best conducted—and whose example had the most extensive influence—was the late Mr. Barclay of Ury. His, indeed, were no common powers. Endowed with the most ardent, energetic, and comprehensive mind, he employed his great talents as an agriculturist with unwearied perseverance, and to the most beneficial results. The subject he had to improve, or rather to subdue, was of the most obdurate nature; but difficulties tended only to excite his activity, and, adhering tenaciously to his own pre-conceived and well-adjusted plans, he was ultimately successful.

‘The estate of Ury, the chief object of his improvements, lies on both sides of the rivulet of Cowie, and extends from Stonehaven in a north-westerly direction, for nearly five miles. The mansion-house is situated about a mile and a half from the efflux of the Cowie, on its northern bank.—When Mr. Barclay succeeded to the estate, there was scarcely a shrub of any value on the whole property, excepting a few old trees around the house.

‘The arable land was divided into a number of small farms. The tillage was superficially performed, with very imperfect implements. Almost every field was incumbered with obstructions of one kind or another; such as, pools of stagnant water or quagmires, where the cattle were ever in danger of losing their lives; great baulks of unploughed land between the ridges; but, above all, stones abounded, not only on the surface, but through the whole depth of the soil. There were no inclosures. No lime was used as a manure and the only crops were bear and oats. There was neither cart nor wheel carriage of any kind; nor was there even a road. In short, no place, at that time, abounded more in the evils attending the ancient system, or enjoyed fewer of the advantages of modern husbandry than the lands of Ury.’

Mr. Barclay, who had acquired his ideas of agriculture on the fertile plains of Norfolk, could ill brook a state of husbandry like this. As soon, therefore, as he succeeded to the estate, he set about its improvement in a stile that was both radical and permanent. To accomplish this object, he took under his own management all the farms in the vicinity of the mansion-house, as the leases expired; besides retaining those lands which had always been in the natural possession of the family. In the course of thirty years, he thoroughly improved 2000 acres of arable land, and planted about 1500 acres of wood. Of the arable land, there were 800 acres originally marsh or heath. Of the remainder, which was let to tenants, about one-fourth part consisted of baulks, wastes, and marshes, interspersed through every field. Mr. Barclay thus meliorated about 2000 acres, and brought them to a correct state of culture, and they are now in a high degree of fertility.

The laborious measures by which Mr. Barclay improved the estate of Ury, are particularly detailed in the valuable work previously mentioned; but it would carry us beyond our limits to enter minutely into them: and perhaps it may suffice to say, that, from a rugged and barren surface, he produced the most beautiful place in North Britain. He was considered the father of agriculture in the north of Scotland: His example has been everywhere imitated; and his memory is held dear by all the lovers of this first and most important art.

Mr. Barclay represented the county of Kincardine in three parliaments, having been unanimously elected; which is highly creditable to his talents and his virtues. He was the intimate friend of William Pitt, and always distinguished himself by his loyalty, and attachment to the best interests of his country.

It is only necessary to add to this account, that, while Capt. Barclay is descended from respectable ancestors of the ancient family of Barclay, he has an undoubted right, by the mother’s side, to the title of Earl of Monteith and Airth, being the representative of Lady Mary Graham, the eldest daughter of the last Earl of Monteith and Airth, who was descended of David, Earl of Strathern, the eldest son of Robert II. by his queen, Euphemia Ross.

THE END.

D. Chalmers & Co.
Printers, Aberdeen.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Its height was sixty-eight feet; its breadth, ninety-five; and its length, two hundred and thirty.

[2] Pausanias, lib. v.

[3] Pausanias, lib. vi.

[4] West’s Dissertation on the Olympic Games, p. 61.

[5] West’s Dissertation, p. 176.

[6] West’s Dissertation.

[7] The odes of Pindar, which have been handed down to us, were made for these occasions.

[8] Gillies’ History, vol. i. c. 6.

[9] West’s Diss., p. 243.

[10] Gillies’ Hist. chap. vi.

[11] Rollin, vol. v. p. 54.

[12] Dissertation on the Olympic Games, last paragraph.

[13] Edgeworth’s Essays on Professional Education, p. 166.

[14] Genuine Guide to Health.

[15] Chap. vii. p. 447.

[16] Code of Health, vol. i. p. 494.

[17] It is a curious fact remarked by Mr. Jackson, and founded on the experience of all swift runners, that “for the first two or three hundred yards one feels very much distressed, but after that a second wind comes, which lasts until one is spent with bodily fatigue.”—Code of Health, vol. ii. p. 100.

[18] See Appendix.

[19] A learned antiquary has obligingly communicated to the author the following etymon of the name Barclay:

“Barclay is a compound word, and pure Gaelic. Bar is borrowed from the Gaelic, and adopted into the English language. In both, the signification is the same, i. e. the bar or bolt of a door, gate, &c. Clay is the Gaelic Cladh, pronounced clay, and signifying a sword. Every one knows that Cladh Mor, pronounced Claymore, signifies the great or broad sword. As C and G are commutable letters in the Gaelic, it is generally written Cladh, though, sometimes Gladh. Gladh is the radix of the Latin Gladius; and Cladh, perhaps, of the Latin Clades. The name Barclay, then, literally imports, ‘The Bar Sword,’ or ‘Sword of Defence.’

“Previous to the use of gunpowder, when every thing depended on personal strength and individual exertion, the single arm of a hero often decided the fate of the battle. Many of our ancient families derived their names from feats of prowess; and there is no doubt that the Barclays received their name from some singular act of heroism performed with the sword.”

[20] Mr. Molyson has often walked thirty-six miles to breakfast, and thirty farther to dinner. He attended Capt. Barclay when he went to Dr. Grant’s house at Kirkmichael, in August 1800, (see page 108); and in less than three days walked one hundred and eighty miles, without sleeping during that time. Mr. Molyson was then forty-eight years of age; but his athletic powers are astonishing, and he is a true lover of gymnastic sports.

[21] See page 124.

[22] Code of Health, vol. ii. p. 118.

[23] Code of Health, vol. ii. p. 120.

[24] Ibid. p. 121.

[25] Code of Health, vol. ii. p. 84.

[26] Code of Health, vol. ii. p. 89.

[27] It is not so generally known as it ought to be, that a salt, introduced into medical practice by Dr. George Pearson of London, is as excellent a purge as Glauber’s salt, and has none of the nauseous taste which renders that purge so disagreeable to many persons. The Phosphat of Soda is very similar to common salt in taste, and may be given in a basin of gruel or broth, in which it will be scarcely perceptible to the palate, and will also agree with the most delicate stomach.

[28] “It may serve as a preliminary rule, that fresh meat is the most wholesome and nourishing. To preserve these qualities, however, it ought to be dressed so as to remain tender and juicy; for it is by this means, it will be easily digested, and afford most nourishment.”—Willich on Diet and Regimen, p. 313.

[29] “Broths and soups require little digestion; weaken the stomach, and are attended by all the pernicious effects of other warm and relaxing drink.”—Willich on Diet, &c. p. 304.

[30] Bell’s Anatomy, vol. i. p. 12.

[31] Code of Health, vol. ii. p. 103.

[32] Code of Health, vol. ii. p. 123.

[33] Annals of Scotland, vol. i. p. 184.

[34] The above account of the Apologist was drawn up by the author for the Edinburgh Encyclopædia, where it is published.