or Trams, which the Corve-men who drive the Horses, Mules, or Asses used in large works, or the Hurriers or those who drag the Corves, in smaller works, convey them to the bottom of the Drawing-shaft; where the Bottomer, Bridger, or Hooker-on fastens the same to the tacklingchains, and the Corve is drawn to the top, by the Wimsey, Horse-gin, or Turn-beam, employed for such purpose; here the Banksman or Striker, by means of a bank-hook, draws the Corve from over the Pit and lands it; but now frequently, sliding stages move on to the top of the Shaft, to receive the Corve, instead of thus dragging it on to the landing-stage or sattle-board. The Corves are next dragged to the Pitt-Hill to be stacked or loaded into the Carriages of purchasers, or into Trams for the Railway, which is laid for conveying away the Coals; in some instances, however, the Tram-Corves themselves are adapted, to pass on the Rail-way.

A new set of Men now enter the Pit, called Punchers or Timberers, taking with them a number of stout posts of woods, cut or sawed off to a certain length, from very old Underwood or the thinnings of Plantations, or the straight arms of trees. These puncheons they set up in a row, in front of and almost touching the new face of the Coal, applying a small flat piece of wood, or templet, at top of each, unless the roof, which they punch-to, as it is called, be very hard; the distance of these puncheons differs according to the goodness of the roof, being sometimes necessary at less than a yard apart, and at others they are necessary only here and there for precaution, where joints appear in the Rock above; or they are wholly omitted. The work is now ready for the Holers to return, and after another day's work as above described, the Punchers return, and in pretty good roofs they take down the puncheons in succession, and remove them forwards almost to the face of the Coal, as before; or otherwise, they set up a new row of punches, observing to place these opposite the openings of the former row, and on the second, or even sometimes the third day, they take down the back row of punches, except any which may have taken so great a weight as to be broken, or to be incapable of removal by cutting out the floor or the roof, or both, round them, and remove them to the face of the work. The number of these large posts of wood which are broken, worn out, or unavoidably left in a Coal-Pit, particularly for supporting its gates or passages, forms often, no inconsiderable part of the expenses of the work this occasioned the invention of Cast-iron Puncheons, or Stauncheons and caps, by Mr. John Charlton. pp. 344-348.

Very little copper is got in Derbyshire. The celebrated Ecton mine, lies on the confines in Staffordshire, though the ore was formerly smelted in Derbyshire.

The body of Copper Ore seems now nearly or quite exhausted in Ecton Mine, but the thick shirts to the Vein, and numerous scrins and small Veins, or strings, branching therefrom, which the Miners neglected to follow when the Copper Ore was in such plenty, still produce considerable quantities of Lead Ore, which is smelted at Ecton, and about Ore enough to produce a Ton of Copper weekly at Whiston ; where, about 1781, 12 Tons of refined Copper were produced weekly from this mine. pp. 353, 354.

Lead on the contrary has, from time immemorial, been

furnished by this county in large quantities. The mode of obtaining possession of a vein, the duties to the land owner, &c. are regulated by ancient customs, called the mining laws, containing, like most of the traditions of the kind, abundance of absurdities, which come but slowly into disuse. It even appears that, formerly, the miners had the right of taking wood from any of the king's forests for the use of their mines;-an excellent scheme, it must be acknowledged, for eradicating them effectually, and which did not fail of having this result throughout the county.

The antient and present manner of working the veins of lead ore, are extremely curious, but do not admit of a brief description. With respect to the price of the ore, a smelting house of respectability informed our author, that

their usual practice in buying Ore was, to consider 58 lb. as the standard weight of a 14 pint Dish of Ore, and to allow the Miners to whom they were regular customers, half the price per Ton for their Ore, that Lead bore per Fother at Hull, at the time of taking up each parcel of Ore and that parcels of Ore, weighing less or more than the above standard weight per Dish (from the average of three Dishes, as above), were deducted for, or allowed extra, at the rate of 10s. per Ton of Ore, for each pound that the Dish fell short or exceeded the standard.ʼ pp. 379, 380.

Did our limits permit, we would willingly transcribe Mr. F.'s list of the Iron Furnaces in Derbyshire in 1806' but as it is, we must rest satisfied with observing, that the No. of tons of pig iron, made annually in 18 furnaces, is 10,329; a produce exceeded only by that of Shropshire and Yorkshire.

The other metals found in Derbyshire, are comparatively of small importance; but the limestones, both as marbles, and when burnt for manure, and architectural purposes, are of extensive utility. Building stones also abound, and millstones, and whetstones are manufactured in several parts of the country. Mr. F. gives us extensive lists of the principal quarries, and the use to which their productions are applied. Clay for bricks and the manufacture for earthen ware, is also abundant in many places. The calcareous spars, Buor, and stalactites, with other minerals, are noticed as furnishing materials for some elegant manufactures, and specimens for the cabinets of the curious.

The sixth and concluding section of the volume, gives a detail of the rivers of Derbyshire, in which the author has exhibited much industry and ability. From the whole, it appears, that the county is well supplied with water, notwithstanding the loss of many streams in the limestone strata. The table, exhibiting the number of acres drained by the several rivers and brooks, represents the Derwent, and Dove, as the

principal; the former carrying the drainage of 111,500 acres, the latter of 87,000. Derbyshire has no lakes, nor do there appear ever to have been such collections of water; but ponds are constructed to preserve a supply in the limestone districts. The fate of one of the watery bottomless abysses which the county boasted, is thus related by our author.

On the E. of Bramcote, and N. E. of Leek in Staffordshire, on the western edge of a high hill of Limestone-Shale, is a small Peaty Meer or pool of water, called black-meer of moredge (or morridy, according to Dr. Plot), respecting whose unfathomable depth and other wonderful properties, the most absurd falshoods were long propagated; it occupies the place of a large and ancient slip from the side of this hill: a short time ago the charm of this spot, so celebrated among old women who never were there, was broken by a sturdy labourer, who in a few hours, for a wager, dug a trench through the edge of shale and peat, and emptied this pretended unfathomable pit !' p. 493.

After the sketch we have given, we are confident, it would be quite superfluous to add another sentence to indicate our own opinion of the work, or to bias that of our readers. We must, however, be permitted to express a wish that it may be "the first of a series of County Reports," of equal intrinsic merit.

Art. XVII. The Life of Richard Cumberland, Esq.; embracing a Critical Examination of his various Writings. With an occasional literary Inquiry into the Age in which he lived, and the Contemporaries with whom he flourished. By William Mudford. 8vo. pp. 640. Price 16s. Sherwood, Neely, and Jones, and Aspern. 1812. WHEN we had read and dismissed, about six years since,

the garrulous and entertaining work in which Mr. Cumberland himself narrated the history of his life and literary labours, and to which he added a small supplement in 1807; we could have been most perfectly content that those Memoirs,' with another brief supplement, to be added in due time, by the hand of some sensible friend, to relate the concluding part of a then far advanced life, should remain the sole record of a long and indefatigable literary career. In thinking it quite sufficiently ample and comprehensive, at least as relating to himself and his works, we probably agreed with the author. He was evidently in no disposition to be parsimonious of his communications, nor to deem even very slight circumstances too insignificant to interest the public, and we may be sure he would tell all he thought of con sequence to be known. What he thought of too little importance, the reader had very good cause for reconciling himself to think so too. Nor was there any reason for suspecting disingenuousness in the relation; nor indeed, if there had,

would it, in many points, have been easy to ascertain the deceptiveness of the representation, or perhaps of any great moment to do it, however practicable. With regard to his writings, the principal work in point of value, the Observer, had so long found its proper place in public estimation, that it was a matter of trifling importance whether the author appreciated it with perfect correctness or not. And as to the very long list of dramatic performances, we could see, after protesting against the stage itself, whoever might furnish its amusements, no great harm in their being suffered to go at his own critical price, whether estimated relatively to one another, or to the dramatic performances of his contemporaries. And indeed it should seem that little pains, in the way of valuation of them, are likely to be taken by other people henceforward; for it appears that but very few of them now remain in possession of the stage, and their being ever again much read, is doubtless quite out of the question. The more gloomy tribe of literary prognosticators, profess to apprehend that a fate not eminently more indulgent, awaits his other poetry; to some of which no one denies considerable merit. But unfortunately for the lasting popularity of moderately good poetry, every successive generation of readers is sure to have its own full fresh supply, which will, in its day, hold just the same claims, and engage the same attention, as the current poetical produce of the foregoing times did in its season, an attention quite incompatible with the task of examining the mass of the middling poetry of those preceding times. It is therefore but a very diminutive space, as compared with the whole quantity of his printed composition, that Cumberland will occupy in our permanent literature; and as literature is the chief ground of whatever personal importance belongs to the man, as a subject of biography, we deemed that enough had been done to fix and perpetuate his fame, and even to discriminate his character, in the very ample volume of Memoirs written by himself.

Mr. Mudford however descried prospectively, during Cumberland's life-time, a desideratum which we will quote his own words to define.

When the Memoirs of Cumberland were published, I was forcibly impressed with their insufficiency in all that regarded the estimation of his literary character; and while I found in them all that could be wished about the man, I was conscious that whenever his death should happen, an ample and interesting opportunity would occur for the union of this personal history with a minute enquiry into the pretensions of the author. In what way, however, I conceived this scheme might be best executed, may be easily known from the following pages, which I have endeavoured to make as interesting as I could. If I have failed, I will not seek to mitigate censure by an appeal to indulgence.' p. ix.

The business then of the present work is to go over again the ground of Cumberland's life, for the purpose chiefly of coming at his works, in their succession, and passing upon them a critical and final judgement; scattering however, by the way, a variety of moral observations suggested by the particulars that come into the narration. Now, in the first place, as to the new-cast story of the person's life, this, at any rate is most completely a work of supererogation, when the writer is obliged to confess explicitly that he has nothing new to tell, and that he relies entirely on Cumberland's own 'Memoirs.' In this portion of his undertaking he must of necessity be reduced to ralate in a comparatively faint and cold style, what the author of the Memoirs had related with the liveliness of personal consciousness, memory, and interest; or to transcribe the very words of that work, and thus, under the semblance of a new book, offer a sort of mutilated reprint of the old one. This latter method has been practised by the present author to an almost unprecedented, and an altogether unpardonable extent. He inserts four, or six, or eight, and in some instances a still greater number of pages continuously, from the Memoirs ;" and so frequently that if all the sheer piece of Cumberland's composition were brought together, they would be found to form a most unconscionable proportion of the volume. And at the same time this stout plunderer shall seem to take credit for laudable service! by expressions such as the account is so interesting that the reader would hardly forgive me for withholding it meaning, of course, the reader who has perused it, and perhaps paid for it, as a part of the Memoirs,'-since other readers could know nothing about the omission. It is not at all to be wondered at, that the proprietors of Cumberland's book have called in the interference of the law, and obtained an Injunction' restraining the sale of the present

work.

In the next place, as to the critical trial and judgement on the numerous writings; we should not perhaps with quite so much simplicity ask, what is the need or use of it, if we were more familiar with the theatre. As several of Cumberland's plays are still sometimes performed, it may very likely be a concern of some magnitude with the frequenters to be illuminated on the subject of the merits or faults of their respective plots, and to be qualified to dissertate on the characters of O'Flaherty, Belcour, Charlotte Rusport, &c. &c. &c. But still, it may be doubted whether many of these freqnenters will take the trouble to read a book of biographical criticism to qualify themselves; whether, for the most part,