nce of a mirror.

[Illustration: _Southampton._]

Finding that the packet for France was not likely to sail immediately,
we hired a boat, and proceeded down the river, to view the beautiful
ruins of Netley Abbey, in the great court of which we dined, under the
shade of aged limes, and amidst the flappings of its feathered and
restless tenantry.

As I am no great admirer of tedious details, I shall not attempt an
antiquarian history of this delightful spot. I shall leave it to more
circumstantial travellers, to enumerate the genealogies of the worthies
who occupied it at various eras, and to relate, like a monumental
entablature, when, where, and how they lived and died; it will be
sufficient to observe, that the site of this romantic abode was
granted by Henry VIII, in 1757, to a sir William Paulet, and that after
having had many merry monks for its masters, who, no doubt, performed
their matutinae laudes and nocturnae vigiliae with devout exactness; that
it is at length in the possession of Mr. Dance, who has a very fine and
picturesque estate on that side of the river, of which these elegant
ruins constitute the chief ornament. The church still exhibits a
beautiful specimen of gothic architecture, but its tottering remains
will rapidly share the fate of the neighbouring pile, which time has
prostrated on the earth, and covered with his thickest shade of ivy.

Our watermen gave us a curious description of this place, and amused us
not a little with their ridiculous anacronisms.

"I tell you what," said one of them, contradicting the other, "you are
in the wrong, Bob, indeed you are wrong, don't mislead them gentlemen,
that there Abbey is in the true roman style, and was built by a man they
call----, but that's neither here nor there, I forget the name, however,
its a fine place, and universally allowed to be very old. I frequently
rows gentlefolks there, and picks up a great deal about it."

On our return the tide was at its height, the sun was setting in great
glory, the sky and water seemed blended in each other, the same red rich
tint reigned throughout, the vessels at anchor appeared suspended in the
air, the spires of the churches were tipped with the golden ray; a scene
of more beauty, richness, and tranquillity I never beheld.

CHAPTER II.

_French Emigrants.--Scene on the Quay of Southampton.--Sail for
Havre.--Aged French Priest.--Their respectable Conduct in
England.--Their Gratit