The Mirror, 1828.07.05, issue No. 321 | Page 6

is not of sufficient magnitude to
supply, for any long period, more than is required for home
consumption, and that of the adjacent counties. There are many
valuable beds of coal in the western part of the west riding of Yorkshire
which are yet unwrought; but the time is not very distant when they
must be put in requisition, to supply the vast demand of that populous
manufacturing county, which at present consumes nearly all the
produce of its own coal mines. In the midland counties, Staffordshire
possesses the nearest coal districts to the metropolis, of any great extent;
but such is the immense daily consumption of coal in the iron-furnaces
and founderies, that it is generally believed this will be the first of our
own coal-fields that will be exhausted. The thirty-feet bed of coal in the
Dudley coal-field is of limited extent; and in the present mode of
working it, more than two-thirds of the coal is wasted and left in the
mine.
If we look to Whitehaven or Lancashire, or to any of the minor
coal-fields in the west of England, we can derive little hope of their
being able to supply London and the southern counties with coal, after
the import of coal fails from Northumberland and Durham. We may
thus anticipate a period not very remote, when all the English mines of
coal and ironstone will be exhausted; and were we disposed to indulge
in gloomy forebodings, like the ingenious authoress of the "Last Man,"
we might draw a melancholy picture of our starving and declining
population, and describe some manufacturing patriarch, like the late
venerable Richard Reynolds, travelling to see the last expiring English
furnace, before he emigrated to distant regions.[1]
[1] The late Richard Reynolds, Esq., of Bristol, so distinguished for his

unbounded benevolence, was the original proprietor of the great
iron-works in Colebrook Dale, Shropshire. Owing, I believe, partly to
the exhaustion of the best workable beds of coal and ironstone, and
partly to the superior advantages possessed by the iron-founders in
South Wales, the works at Colebrook Dale were finally relinquished, a
short time before the death of Mr. Reynolds. With a natural attachment
to the scenes where he had passed his early years, and to the pursuits by
which he had honourably acquired his great wealth, he travelled from
Bristol into Shropshire, to be present when the last of his furnaces was
extinguished, in a valley where they had been continually burning for
more than half a century.
Fortunately, however, we have in South Wales, adjoining the Bristol
Channel, an almost exhaustless supply of coal and ironstone, which are
yet nearly unwrought. It has been stated, that this coal-field extends
over about twelve hundred square miles, and that there are twenty-three
beds of workable coal, the total average thickness of which is
ninety-five feet, and the quantity contained in each acre is 100,000 tons,
or 65,000,000 tons per square mile. If from this we deduct one half for
waste and for the minor extent of the upper beds, we shall have a clear
supply of coal, equal to 32,000,000 tons per square mile. Now if we
admit that the five million tons of coal from the Northumberland and
Durham mines is equal to nearly one-third of the total consumption of
coals in England, each square mile of the Welsh coal-field would yield
coal for two years' consumption; and as there are from one thousand to
twelve hundred square miles in this coal-field, it would supply England
with fuel for two thousand years, after all our English coal-mines are
worked out.
It is true, that a considerable part of the coal in South Wales is of an
inferior quality, and is not at present burned for domestic use; but in
proportion as coal becomes scarce, improved methods of burning it will
assuredly be discovered, to prevent any sulphureous fumes from
entering apartments, and also to economize the consumption of fuel in
all our manufacturing processes.
* * * * *

SONG.
(_For the Mirror._)
Thou hast not seen the tear-drops fill The eyes which worship thee; The
deepest curse, the darkest ill, Hovers above--around me--still There are
no tears for me!
Thou canst not know, why I should kneel For tears to heaven--in vain;
The thousand changeless pangs we feel,-- The precious drops,
perchance, might heal,-- They will not start again!
Thou canst not know what hopes will spring When I can gaze on thee,
Even in the cold heart withering; Oh! thou to whom that heart must
cling, Art more than tears to me!
THOMAS M---- S.
* * * * *
HINTS FOR HEALTH.
["A very old and active correspondent," Tim Tobykin, has furnished us
with the following interesting extracts from Dr. Rennie's Treatise on
Gout and Nervous Diseases, just published.