‘In the autumn of 1759 a piteous appeal was addressed to the publishers of the _Edinburgh Evening Courant_ on behalf of the French prisoners of war in Edinburgh Castle by one who “lately beheld some hundreds of French prisoners, many of them about naked (some without any other clothing but shirts and breeches and even these in rags), conducted along the High Street to the Castle.” The writer says that many who saw the spectacle were moved to tears, and he asked that relief might be given by contributing clothing to these destitute men. This letter met with a favourable response from the citizens, and a book of subscriptions was opened forthwith. The prisoners were visited and found to number 362. They were reported to be “in a miserable condition, many almost naked,” and winter approaching. There were, however, revilers of this charitable movement, who said that the public were being imposed upon; that the badly clothed were idle fellows who disposed of their belongings; that they had been detected in the Castle cutting their shoes, stockings, and hammocks into pieces, in the prospect of getting these articles renewed. “One fellow, yesterday, got twenty bottles of ale for a suit of clothes given him by the good people of the town in charity, and this he boasted of to one of the servants in the sutlery.” ‘The promoters of the movement expressed their “surprise at the endeavours used to divert the public from pursuing so humane a design.”.... They also pointed out that the prisoners only received an allowance of 6_d._ a day, from which the contractor’s profit was taken, so that little remained for providing clothes. An estimate was obtained of the needs of the prisoners, and a list drawn up of articles wanted. Of the 362 persons confined 8 were officers, whose subsistence money was 1s. a day, and they asked no charity of the others; no fewer than 238 had no shirt, and 108 possessed only one. Their other needs were equally great. The “City Hospitals for Young Maidens” offered to make shirts for twopence each, and sundry tailors to make a certain number of jackets and breeches for nothing. The prisoners had an airing ground, but as it was necessary to obtain permission before visiting them, the chance they had of disposing of any of their work was very slight indeed.’ William Fergusson, clerk to Dr. James Walker, the Agent for the prisoners of war in the Castle, described as a man of fine instincts, seems to have been one of the few officials who, brought into daily contact with the prisoners, learned to sympathize with them, and to do what lay in their power to mitigate the prisoners’ hard lot. Early in May 1763, the French prisoners in the Castle, numbering 500, were embarked from Leith to France, the Peace of Paris having been concluded.