Transcribed from the 1882 G. S. Cook edition ,email ccx074@pgaf.org
Spes tutissimaCælis.
Interesting Incidents
Connected with the Life of
GEORGE BICKERS,
Originally a Farmer’sParish Apprentice at
Laxfield, in Suffolk, but now
RESIDING IN OULTON,
In the same County,
Being an
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
Of the above,
From 1809 to 1881,
Inclusive.
All Rights of Re-productionreserved
Lowestoft:
G. S. Cook, Nelson Printing Works.
p. 3The writer of these pages was born atLaxfield, a village in the County of Suffolk, on the 16th day ofJanuary, 1809, the forty-eighth year of our good King George theThird’s happy reign. That eventful day was to me thecommencement of a long and sometimes tedious journey: oftimes Ihave had to encounter great perils and dangers, but out of allthe Lord hath delivered me.
That eventful day witnessed the closing career of a greatBritish General, Sir John Moore, at Corunna, a seaport of Spain,whither he had gone to take the command of the English forces, inorder, if possible, to relieve that unhappy country, then beingsorely harassed by the armies of Napoleon I., under the commandof the Duke of Dalmatia (Marshall Soult), but the campaign proveda failure, resulting in the death of the Commander-in-Chief, andthe re-embarkation of the troops, with a loss of about eighthundred of our countrymen, Soult being more than a match for thevalour of British arms on that memorable and tryingoccasion. But France was destined to be humbled, and sixyears later on, Napoleon and his generals felt the weight ofBritish prowess at Waterloo.
I was the second son of my parents, Benjamin and Charlotte,poor, but industrious people, my father being an agriculturallabourer: and, having but a slender income, yet felt a wish theirchildren should acquire a little education, which might proveuseful to them in their future stations in life under which theymight be called.
p. 4Whenabout four years of age, while one day playing in the road withother children, near my father’s cottage, there happened tobe a horse, belonging to a miller of the name of Heffer, quietlyfeeding. Being then (as since) very forward in mischief, Ithrew my cap at the quiet creature, and then must needs go toonear its heels to pick it up; the sad consequence was I waskicked on the head, and my right eye nearly perished, but, underthe skilful treatment of Mr. Alling, a surgeon in the village, myeyesight was preserved, and, although I am writing more thansixty years later on, yet the scar still remains, and also theseam in the bone is still perceptible. But what of the poorhorse? H