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table knives. A water wheel similar to those which work the mills for grinding corn, communicates with one or more cog wheels, which move a long line of hollow cylinders. From these cylinders, a leather strap runs round a pulley, fixed on the same axis as the grinding stone, and whirls it round with a swiftness inconceivable. On a hollow stool half over the revolving stone, sits the grinder applying with a well directed force, the side, the edge or the back of the utensil to the stone.

This business I learn is very dangerous. Though secured with strong chains of Iron, the hollow seat on which the grinder sits as on horseback, is frequently by the breaking of the whirling stone thrown to the top of the building, and the poor workman killed on the spot, or rendered a cripple for the remainder of his life. Should he even escape accidents, the grinder seldom attains to old age, for the nature of his employment gradually undermining his constitution, he generally falls a victim to his industry before attaining the age of forty.

The SHEAF another of the Rivers tributary to the DON, and which for some miles forms the boundary of the county, possesses scenery of a different kind, but not inferior in interest to the others. Less rapid in its course, its Landscapes are more level, and skirted for miles by magnificent woods, which cover the lofty hills, along the foot of which it takes its course, its grinding wheels, its rolling mill, and its iron forges have always a back ground that augments their beauty. For the space of five miles above Sheffield, the Scenery on the new turnpike road to Chatsworth along Abbey-dale, &c. has scarcely equal on any river I have yet seen. Every step discovers some new beauty, and every turn in the road presents a picture more beautiful than the last.,


Sheffield ought to be the country of the Landscape painter, for here he every combination of his art continually before him, taste and judgment alone are wanted, to form his selections.

Perhaps in your next number I may resume the subject, and with some further observations on the Scenery of the RIVELYN and the LOXLEY, and on the DoN below Sheffield, till when I remain,

Sir, Your's, &c.


Sheffield, September 10, 1817.

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"With his head hid in clouds, I see heath-cover'd Ax-EDGE,
"And GRINN with his cavern-like cots on his sides;
"On the right I see CORBAR; the left, the long high ridge
"Of hills, round whose base, infant WYE smoothly glides."
"Hail! Hail! gentle Vaga so carelessly flowing,
"How pleasant to wander along by thy stream!

"Refresh'd by the breeze o'er the purple heath blowing,

"And shaded by Rocks from the Sun's scorching beam!"



The sun was almost setting when I passed through this clean little village, and his departing rays tinged (as Poets often sing) the roofs of the houses and the battlements of the church with a golden hue, but on descending the hill below Fairfield, the landscape became one of the most fascinating I had ever seen. In the Valley immediately beneath lay Buxton, not like any of the towns I had before seen in the Peak, but resembling a small city, in which all the magnificence of Greece and Rome had been assembled, to produce an abode for opulence and grandeur. The faint haze formed by the sun's departing rays, threw over the valley a pleasing obscurity, which rendering the lesser buildings less visible, left the Crescent, the Church, the Square and the Mews, more exposed to observation, and by this" deceptio visus." gave the town more magnificence than in any other light it could have exhibited. The hills around it, Ax-edge, Grinn and Corbar, being completely in shade, added a richness and interest to the whole, which the most picturesque pen will find it difficult to describe.


"Near to where AX-EDGE lifts his head on high,

"Topp'd by the fleecy daughters of the sky;

"Enclos'd by lofty hills on ev'ry side,

"Fair BUXTON stands, of sterile PEAK the pride.

"Buxton, far famed, o'er whose mysterious spring,

"Hygeia broods with ever watchful wing.""

Fatigued and weary I made my way to the Well-house, and after a glass of the water, conceiving that a jaded worn-out pedestrian would be no welcome guest at any of the magnificent hotels which compose the Crescent, I

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engaged private Lodgings at the house of the Bath-man, on the HallBank.

Being rather early in the season, Buxton at this time was not full of company, though visitors were numerous enough to give it a very lively and prepossessing appearance; and for the six weeks that I remained there, though in the interim I made numerous excursions to see the curiosities of the neighbourhood, I never spent a more comfortable period.

Buxton if we may credit the authority of ancient authors, was one of the earliest of our watering places. Indubitable evidence proves it to have been a Bath during the domination of the Romans; and in the succeeding period, though an age of barbarism, it seems not to have been altogether neglected. In the revival of Christianity, its springs were dedicated to a Saint, and the healing power of its waters attributed to her influence; numbers who were healed hung up their then useless crutches over her altar, and hundreds who with the greatest difficulty had crawled to the bath, left the blessed water renovated in every limb, and exclaiming with Pennant, "With joy and gratitude I this moment reflect on the efficacious qualities of the waters; I recollect with rapture the return of spirits, the flight of pain, and the re-animation of my long, long-crippled Rheumatic limbs."

"Holy ST. ANNE, these honors once were thine,
"Then useless sticks and crutches deck'd thy shrine,
"The votive off'rings of each grateful heart,
"For health thine influence was believ'd t'impart.
"But when the mad reforming rebel band,

"Each pious relic seiz'd with ruthless hand;
"Thy temple too was doom'd to feel their hate,
""Twas for Religion's use,—that seal'd its fate.

By superstitious Bigotry defam'd,

"Its spring choak'd up,- its sculptur'd statues maim'd,
"In one sad heap, the sacred fabric fell,

"Nor left one stone, the dismal tale to tell."

Buxton however through the munificence of its owners the Dukes of Devonshire, has more than recovered its ancient splendor. The classic elegance of its buildings will long reflect the highest honour on its architects. The Crescent on the justly celebrated Mr. Carr of York, and the Church on Mr. White of London, but to the PATRON who on the scite of a ruin or a sterile void, conceived the idea of raising so magnificent a village, the gratitude of posterity is justly due.

"Thanks to that Patron" (says the Author of the Wanderings of Memory,) "who with magic hand,

"Transform'd this sterile to a fruitful land :

"Once thou wast dreary, comfortless, and waste,
A few rude huts alone, thy waters gracd;
"And though by after ages still improv'd,
"Yet thou wast little from that state remov'd.
"To him the mighty task was still reserv'd,
"To raise thee to that rank thy worth deserv'd:
"He saw, he felt,-Behold the changing scene!
The russet heath gives way to cheerful green!
"Smooth'd are the hills-flow'rs deck the new made plains,
"O'er all the land a new creation reigns!

"He hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow,
"He bade that stream in sweet meanders flow ;""

"Twas he who planted that secluded grove.
"He made those walks where all delight to rove:
The shapeless rock, beneath the chisel yields,
"And streets arise, where once were barren fields;
"The Splendid CRESCENT Owns him for its Lord;
"ST. ANNE once more is to her rights restor❜d;
THE CHURCH too, shall perpetuate his fame,

"A Temple worthy of its Founder's name ;
"This was his last, best gift: to Buxron giv'n!

He gave the CHURCH, then wing'd his way to HEAV'N.

The Church, which is a magnificent building, was erected at the sole charge of his Grace, and an Act of Parliament obtained for granting it all the privileges of a Parish Church. It was consecrated on the 9th of August, 1812.

Previously to this period I am informed that Divine Service was perforined in the Assembly Room, the Old Church or rather Chapel, being too disgraceful a building, and too uncomfortable within, to afford proper accommodation to visitors.

The Baths are very convenient and commodious; they are six in number; one private and two public ones for Gentlemen; one private and one public for Ladies, and one called the Charity Bath for the indiscrimnate use of the Poor, of both sexes; who by a proper recommendation receive the privelege of bathing gratis, of being supplied with medicines and Advice, and of receiv ing six Shillings a week for a month, from a fund which arises from the custom of every visitor on the first day of dining in Buxton, paying for the purpose of the charity one shilling, into the hands of some one of the sub-treaand for which shilling, he is entitled to recommend any poor person to the benefit of the subscription.

(To be continued.)

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Among the most interesting remains of Feudal Splendour, may be ranked the Castle of Tickhill. Here surrounded by his dependant Vassals, we behold the mighty chieftain of former times, dispensing his favours, or distributing his censures among the forty-nine manors which owned his superior jurisdiction. Here when a public wrong or a private brawl called forth the power of the Barony, we see the villaines of every seigniory assembled in the court, each arranged under the banner of his chief, and all uniting in the cause of their paramount Lord. Here too in festive times, when some fair maiden became the prize of chivalry.

"Then oft the Court with herald trumpet rang,
"And echo'd to the sword and buckler's clang;
"Then doughty knights their prowess oft essay'd
"To gain a smile from some obdurate maid ---
"Then errant champions met in combat fierce,
"Or strove the bigh suspended ring to pierce;
"Then high-born dames the happy victors crown'd,
"Whilst with applauding shouts the hills resound,
"Then blazon'd banners deck'd th'embattled walls,
"And midnight revelry illum'd the balls. -

"Where are they now?"

Alas! all its grandeur is now fallen to decay, its battlements, its towers and its turrets have all sunk beneath the ravages of time, or the dilapidating

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