hard work. That' working oxen are not always supported in this manner, we chearfully grant; but how are they wrought? In many places six, eight, even a dozen, are yoked in a team: we here speak of the northern parts of Scotland, where oxen are more generally used than in any part of the island. In a word, oxen cannot be used for dispatch like horses, and, in critical seasons, when there is a necessity for a push, the value of the stock might be lost upon a single crop. The only point in favour of oxen, is their value at the latter end. Here no comparison can be made. Notwithstanding which, we adhere to our first opinion, that this is more than compensated, by the difference betwixt the value of their labour when employed. Indeed the sentiments of the greatest part of practical agriculturiste coincide with those we here give, upon this branch of rural economy.'

Labour is stated to be high, from the prevalence of manufactures; and a custom also prevails, of giving ploughmen drink twice a-day. This, it is thought, ought to be abolished by a compensation in wages: but, if this refreshment be necessary to the labourer, the master might suffer by giving money instead of it; and if it be unnecessary, it may be taken away without a compensation. The writer contends for the propriety of paying husbandmen their wages partly in kind; and we are of opinion that either this practice should prevail, or that agricultural wages should be regulated by the price of bread-corn: but it seems to be a deviation from this principle, and also to be bad policy, to substitute a commutation for necessary refreshment: since it may be presumed that the money would be saved, and less work be done.

On the subject of Manufactures, we find a long section, from which we shall give a short extract:

The manufactores of the West Riding are numerous and valuable, and comprehend broad and narrow cloths of all qualities, shalloons, calimascoes, flannels, and every branch of woollen goods. The manufacture of these articles is carried on at Leeds, Wakefield, Bradford, Halifax, and Huddersfield, and in the country adjoining to these places, to an astonishing extent. The whole wool of the district is not only wrought up in these manufactures, but immense quantities are also purchased in the conterminous counties for the same purpose.

While the people in the heart of the district are thus employed in manufacturing woollen goods, those of the southern parts are engaged in carrying on manufactures no less valuable, and fully as important. At Sheffield and its neighbourhood, every kind of cutlery and plated goods are manufactured; and so eminent are the artizans in their different professions, that no other place is able to compete with them in the manufacturing of these articles. Sheffield has been staple place for knives for more than three hundred years, as pray inferred from Chaucer, who says in his poems,

"A Sheffield whittle bore he in his hose.

be

And

And Leland observes, that great numbers of smiths and cutlers lived in those parts when he wrote, which was in the reign of Henry VIII.

Rotherham, in the neighbourhood of Sheffield, is a place famous for iron works, similar to those carried on at Carron, in Scotland. We here saw a part of the stupendous iron bridge lately erected over the river Ware, at Sunderland, which was executed by the Messrs. Walkers, proprietors of these works. The merit and ingenuity of these gentlemen, deserve every mark of public encouragement.

The establishment of manufactures in the West Riding has been the principal cause of its present wealth. It is difficult to ascertain the period when they were first introduced, but there is reason to suppose, it was about the beginning of the fifteenth century.'

The remainder of the Report we shall leave to speak for itself. As the Survey was confessedly made in haste, and as the statements here made are founded in a great measure on hearsay evidence, we think that the reporters are not sufficiently qualified to suggest the surest means of improving the district. Many of their remarks are judicious, and evince much refection, as well as practical knowlege: but they had not opportunities for particular observation and inquiry; and blame attaches somewhere for exhibiting so crude and indigested a publication as this is in many respects, as a General View of the West Riding of Yorkshire. County Reporters should be attentive and patient in their investigation, and accurate in their details.

ART. VIII. The Favorite Village, a Poem. By James Hurdis, D. D. Professor of Poetry, Oxford. 4to. pp. 210. Printed at Bishop. stone, Sussex, at the Author's own Press. Sold by Johnson, London, price 6s. sewed. 1800.

THE

HE author of this performance here undertakes to celebrate the pleasures afforded by his native village, in all seasons of the year; and he has fulfilled his task with that unvarying simplicity of diction, and that peculiar minuteness of description, which characterize his former writings *. The attempt is pleasing, and congenial with true poetical feeling; for the votary of the Muses is at home only in the country:

"Sordidaque in parvis otia rebus amat."

The poem opens with a descriptive view of the village; from which we shall extract the address to the church: Say, ancient edifice, thyself with years

Grown grey, how long upon the hill has stood
Thy weather-braving tower, and silent mark'd
The human leaf inconstant bud and fall?

* See M. Rev. vol. lxxxi. p. 241. and N. S. vol. iii. p. 51. vi. p. 278. xv. p. 311. xviii. p. 96. &c.

The

The generations of deciduous man--
How often hast thou seen them pass away?
How often has thy still surrounding sward
Yawn'd for the fathers of the peopled vale
And closed upon them all? Thy during fane,
How often has it shed the dew of grace
On the mute infant, and received him soon
A coffin'd elder silver-lock'd with age?
O tell me, rev'rend structure, what events
Of awful import on the tide of time
Have floated by thee, as the bubble vain?
What armies on that distant hill engaged
To leave those scars of war upon its brow?

What blood was shed, and why? and where sleep now
The wrathful combatants of either host?"

To this we shall add the description of a great rarity, the Poet's own house:

Enough of painful pleasure. Now alive,
Thee let ne sing, still mansion of my birth.
The swelling instep of the mountain's foot
Above the vale just lifts thee. Thy trim gate,
Thy candid aspect and pale-chimneyed roof
Some eminence bespeak, and mark thee chief
Of the lone hamlet that behind thee squats.
Thou seem'st a bride, and this thy nuptial day,
And these thy mute attendants less attired.
Graceful to them thy fair ingenuous face
And bolder footstep, but not less to thee
Their modest air becoming. Ev'ry roof,
Or farm or cottage, ev'ry tree and shrub,
Pasture and garden plot, which tread thy heel
Descending from the hill, thy charms improve.
I see where Flora her full lap of sweets
Has strewed before thee, prodigally kind.
I mark the wreath laburnum without hand
Weaves for thy brow, the lilac tuft sublime
That shades thy temples, and the nodding flow'rs
Of rose and woodbine which his leaf o'ertop
To screen thine eyelids from the western beam.
Beauty concealed is beauty thrice improved.
And plainness self, if plainness be thy lot,
Is not to be reproved, when nature thus
Adorns deformity with flowery charm,'-

Alone, of men, dwells here the thoughtful bard.
Here, on the mountain stationed, to the deep,
That proudly thund'ring on his one hand foams,
The lyre's indignant chorus sweeps he now;
Now to the peaceful variegated weald,
That underlies his other, tinkles soft
Descriptive admiration of her charms.-

He

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He sings her every steeple, farm, and field,
Till, like the prospect, his expiring song,
Mellowed and softened, steals away from sense,
And ill-perceived runs melting into air.'

When the author departs from such familiar sketches, and attempts the grander features of nature, he betrays a want of skill. The following description of a storm at sea might have been composed purposely for the illustration of a new treatise on the bathos :

His ivory tooth unsheathed, his sullen bark,
And fiery look delirious, symptoms all
Of madness imminent! Lo! as we speak,
The wolfish monster kindles into rage!
Enormous mastiff, how he gnaws his chain
And struggles to be free, fast bound by fate,
And never more to be let loose on man!
Aloud he bellows, with indignant paw
Dances upreared, and menaces the foot
Of earth with trembling diffidence protruded.
Lo! the saliva of his deafening tongue
Her pebbled instep stains! his rugged coat
Is whiten'd o'er with foam, wasted amiss
In the vain effort of his hoarse assault!'

This is the very essence of Blackmore, and the resemblance is not closed with this passage; which will be sufficient, however, for our exemplification. As this species of bad poetry seems to be again raising its head among us, we shall Jay before the reader a contrast between the present writer and Thomson, in the view of a winter-storm,, where an emulation of Thomson was probably intended:

At length the long-cxpected tempest comes,
His ancient phrenzy has the maniac deep
Seized, and with loud reverberating foot
He dances rampant in his thund'ring hall.
His gloomy frown that darkens earth and heaven,
And foamy gnashing jaw, foretel ere long
Madness enormous to ensue. E'en now
He gnaws with keen exasperated tooth
The rock that holds him shorebound to his seat,
Buffets the pier and basis of the cliff,
Stizes the tilting triple-masted bark,
Light as a feather in his pow'rful grasp,
Kindles her sleeping thunder, and enjoys
Her frequent flashes of nocturnal woe.
Wellnigh omnipotent, on the sunk reef,
Where roars the conflict of eternal storm
And wave o'ertumbles wave in foamy fall,
He tosses furious her reluctant crew,
Satches the quiver from the hand of heaven,

Scatters

Scatters the glaring lightnings o'er their heads,
And pours
the forceful thunder peal around.
Pleased at her fate, he aggravates the storm,
Bellows profound, roars horrible delight,
And bids the billow oft repeat the blow,
Till with unchainable gigantic arm

He thrusts her headlong to the deepmost Hell.'

Let us oppose to this figure of a dancing, whirling, bellowing, thumping demon, fit only for a magic lanthorn, the noble and simple picture of the convulsions of nature, exhibited by the author of the Seasons:

"When from the pallid sky the sun descends,
With many a spot, that o'er his glaring orb
Uncertain wanders, stain'd; red fiery streaks
Begin to flush around. The reeling clouds
Stagger with dizzy poise, as doubting yet
Which master to obey: while rising slow,
Blank, in the leaden-colour'd east, the moon
Wears a wan circle round her blunted horns.
Seen thro' the turbid fluctuating air,
The stars obtuse emit a shivered ray;
Or frequent seem to shoot athwart the gloom,
And long behind them trail the whitening blaze.
Snatch'd in short eddies, plays the wither'd leaf;
And on the flood the dancing feather floats.
With broadened nostrils to the sky up-turn'd,
The conscious heifer snuffs the stormy gale.
Even as the matron, at her nightly task,
With pensive labour draws the flaxen thread,
The wasted taper and the crackling flame
Foretell the blast. But chief the plumy race,
The tenants of the sky, its changes speak.
Retiring from the downs, where all day long
They pick'd their scanty fare, a blackening train
Of clamorous rooks thick urge their
weary flight,
And seek the closing shelter of the grove;
Assiduous, in his bower, the wailing owl
Plies his sad song. The cormorant on high
Wheels from the deep, and screams along the land.
Loud shrieks the soaring hern; and with wild wing
The circling sea-fowl cleave the flaky clouds.
Ocean, unequal press'd, with broken tide

And blind commotion heaves; while from the shore,
Eat into caverns by the restless wave,

That solemn sounding bids the world prepare.

And forest-rustling mountain comes a voice,

Then issues forth the storm with sudden burst,
And hurls the whole precipitated air

Down, in a torrent. On the passive main

Descends th' ethereal force, and with strong gust

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