Mr. URBAN, As Nov. 1. S I do not recollect to have seen any recent account of the beautiful remains of Netley Abbey in your Magazine, I am induced to send a few remarks taken this Autumn, hoping they will prove interesting to some of your Readers. Netley Abbey has two ways of approach, after crossing the ferry at Southampton: one is on the banks of the river, the other passes through the estate of.... Chamberlaine, esq. but the distances are nearly equal. The first object viewed on arrival by the former, is the Castle, a small building near the river, bearing marks of antiquity, but not very remote, perhaps not earlier than the reign of Henry VIII. The walls are thick, measuring about 8 feet 6 inches. They inclose a small area or court, the proportions of a double cube. Three small square openings admit light towards the river, and the door of the internal wall was strengthened by a portcullis. At each end is a large square bastion entered only from the interior by pointed doors. The whole is battlemented and moated. — The sequestered ruins of Netley Abbey are seated on the banks of the river Anton (vulgarly called the Southampton Water) about three miles from the antient town of that name; and it is rendered an enchanting spot by the addition of delightful woods, which partially obscure its mouldering walls at every point of view. The West front of the Church rises dignified above the uneven ground, and from among a beautiful wood of varied trees and shrubs, on leaving the Castle; the distance is not great, but they are hidden from each other. The elegant sharply pointed window and dismantled walls and buttresses form a fine contrast to the richly-tinted surrounding landscape. We gain admission within the walls by some of the dilapidated dwelling-buildings, which mostly join the Cloisters contiguous to the South side of the Abbey Church; immediately entering the quadrangle of the Cloisters, now a vacant space, shewing only the boundary walls, one of which is the Nave of the Church, with its early Pointed windows appearing. The exterior of the Transept is likewise seen, having windows of corresponding plainness. Southward of the Transept, and ex tending nearly to the extreme of this side of the cloisters, is the Chapterhouse, between two ailes, that join the transept: one is vaulted with stone, and lighted from the East by two narrow windows, and from the cloisters by one large window, with simple, but mutilated tracery. The corresponding aile is quite plain. Externally, the Chapter-house was distinguished by three plain but elegant arches, the centre forming the entrance, and that on each side a window; but the original has been walled up, and the present door broken through one of the windows, to the additional disfigurement of this most elegant room. Its proportions are square, having the same number of arches on every side, and, no doubt, had originally four insulated columns in the centre sustaining the groins of the roof, the springers of which remain connected with the walls. Light was chiefly admitted from the East side by two narrow windows and quatrefoil openings. The capitals to all the arches in the Chapter-house, and some others, are sculp tured in fine Purbeck marble, while the columns, bases, &c. are of fine free-stone. Among the heaps of rubbish in this area has grown a most beautifully picturesque Ash - tree, whose elegant and tender branches and leaves form the only canopy to the encircling walls: a similar tree flourishes in the cloisters. Southward of the Chapter-house, extending in the line of the cloisters, is a small apartment vaulted with stone ribs, resting on sculptured brackets, which are common in this abbey, and were no doubt adopted in the room of columus, to admit as much space as possible in a church and dwellings of small dimensions. Still more towards the South was the Refectory, a handsomely proportioned apartment, groined in a similar manner to the Chapter-house, and lighted from the East side by three different kinds of windows. At the South end still remains the hatch through which the provisions passed from another hatch in the wall of the kitchen, which is situate East and West in regard to the Refectory. The intermediate building was perhaps the pantry or buttery, or some culinaryoffice. The exterior of these buildings, the walls of the cloisters, the kitchen, kitchen, &c. form a handsome group, approaching the Abbey. From the refectory we pass to the Kitchen, which is now not the least interesting object among so many as are here exhibited, and afford gratification to those who differ in opinion from a party leaving the ruins on our entrance, who declared that "they should not have fatigued themselves in walking so far, had they expected to see no more than a heap of old ruins." The kitchen is of considerable length, separated into four divisions by brackets which support stone springers, the groins having been destroyed. The large chimney on the North side is curious and remarkable, and has received no material injury. This building is very antient, its East window having two narrow lights under a large arch. Against the line of wall formed by the Chapter-house, the adjoining ailes, and part of the dwelling-buildings, or in the space between the Choir of the Church and Kitchen, extending Eastward, and entered by the Southern of the ailes connected with the Chapter-house,-is a large quadrangular area, eucom. passed with an elevated terrace, great part of whose walls remain; and on the North side, they are entire. On the exterior of this (towards the East) are some antient buildings, of which two stone-vaulted rooms deserve remark, but their original use cannot, perhaps, with precision be named. The principal of these, extending North and South, is of consider able magnitude; but the ground Las been raised by surrounding destruction, both outside and within. smaller room, entered by the former, is groined in a similar manner, and lighted by a window at the East end. These buildings have had rooms over them. The Having now generally surveyed the mutilated habitations of the religious Cistercians who once inhabited these walls, I pass round to the West front of the equally decayed and more elegant Abbey Church, of which we have hitherto said but little. This portion of the building is plain, having no other ornamental feature than a large window; the smaller window of each aile is lofty and narrow, in two openings, and the centre door perfectly undecorated, which, with other dilapidated parts adjoining, is walled up. The interior of the Nave, in particular, is so much crowded with large masses of masonry that have fallen from the roof and walls, that a path could not be formed, so as to make the original grand entrance the present approach to the ruins: the advantage of such an alteration, were it practicable, is obvious, and the effect of the whole buildings would be more striking; whereas you now enter by the transept, thus losing the length, elevations, and beauty of the building in certain points of view. For the sake of description and regularity i pass up the nave and choir, and regret to notice that the arches and columns separating the ailes are throughout destroyed, and the extreme walls now bound the space. These partake of the same simplicity and character which mark the West front, and the best parts of the habitable buildings. The Nave has eight divisions formed by piers, with triple windows under a large arch in each. The cloisters connecting with the South wall, caused the windows of that side to be considerably shorter. The North transept is demolished to the remnant of a wall, and some part of the foundations, but the South transept is in a very perfect state. Its side aile, with the stone vaulting, is nearly entire; and the arches of the sides, the springers of the main roof, their mouldings and ornaments, are exquisitely perfect. The four di visions of the choir differ little from those of the nave; in the South wall is a holy-water niche with a trefoil arch; and by its side, a square recess to contain some decorations of the altar. In the opposite wall is a similar recess. The East window is very elegant, and partially perfect; but the whole so much covered with ivy, that the tracery is scarcely visible through its thick masses. The arch is of great thickness, and subdivided into numerous mouldings, having under it, between arches springing from a central cluster of columns yet res maining entire, a large circle en closing eight quatrefoil turns, to which are still connected the iron bar for sustaining the glass. The hand of destruction seems to have been held out most unrelentingly against this elegant little monastery, and it has left but scattered memorials to con vey to the admirers of such interest ing relicks, some remembrance of pristine beauty and regularity. Among these fortunate relicks may be noticed a portion of each of the roofs over the ailes of the choir, connected with the East wall: three ribs of one division, or space, on either side remain: that to the South side having an ornamented boss; the opposite has been defaced. It may be observed that the masonry of the exterior of this Abbey, though good and durable, is not altogether of the most finished kind : the walls not being wholly faced with hewn stone. The arches of all the windows, their mullions and tracery, the doors, columns, capitals, buttresses, cornices, groins, bases, all the angles, &c. are of the most perfect finishing in fine yellow and grey stone; and the remnants left appear as new as when first constructed by the masou. Few among the numerous ecclesiastical buildings that suffered dilapida tion have excited more general interest than the subject these remarks illustrate: whether this arises from its advantageous situation, the peculiar elegance and beauty of its mouldering remains, or the works of Nature, here so charmingly united with those of Art, it is unnecessary to determine; but certain it is, that not only Antiquaries have rendered it eminently conspicuous as to its architectural beauties and peculiarities, but Poets have chosen it as a subject for contemplation; their united exertions have given it the distinction it now possesses, and should be the means of its preservation as long as the perishable materials, and its irreparable condition, will allow us to expect. That unnecessary havock is continually making, it is needless to state; but it is satisfactory to learn that if no stop will at present be put to such wanton mischief, it may be at some future time adopted; that a lawless horde of men and school-boys may be prevented following the mischievous delight of ascending the stair-cases, and throwing down the walls and groins piecemeal, and disfiguring those ornamental parts which escaped the barbarians of earlier days. To the care required in the present instance, we are chiefly indebted for the fine preservation of the magnificent ruins of Fountains Abbey ́in Yorkshire, to the taste, liberality and praiseworthy exertions of their deserving owner, Mrs. Lawrence, of Studley Royal. It is to be boped that such an example will be here followed; that the liberal privilege so long granted to the publick may be no longer thus disgracefully and destructively abused. Netley Abbey was founded by Henry III. A. D. 1239, and dedicated to St. Mary and St. Edward. The revenue was estimated at 100l. 128. 8d. or according to Speed at 1601. Яs, 9d.. Yours, &c. J. C. B. Mr. URBAN, Oct. 20. HE remains of the antient Palace Tof our English Kings so delightfully situated at Eltham, still bear testimony of its former magnificence: their site is a square of considerable extent encircled by a moat, over which an elegant Gothic bridge of three arches conducts us into the court-yard of the Palace, now & farm-yard; and the great banquetting-hall still remains in the centre, converted into a barn. The curious oaken roof of the hall exhibits a beautiful specimen of the architecture of our forefathers; the elegant Pointed windows are entire, but their appearance is much injured by being bricked up for the exclusion of the weather. The bridge has suffered much from the ivy, which mantled it, being torn down, and the conversion of its arches into sheds and pig-sties. Some of the apartments of the palace still exist in the form of houses; the exterior of their roofs presents some curious antient carving. Among modern innovations offensive to the eye, a white-washed cockney-box on the right of the bridge particularly obtrudes itself; it is an excellent specimen of Gothic travestie. Eltham Palace lays claim to very singular distinction in our history, for we bave certain records of it having been the residence of Henry III. Ed ward I. II. and III. Richard II. Henry IV. and V. Edward IV. and Henry VIII.; and although antiquaries have endeavoured to assign the traditional name of King John's Palace, to the circumstance of the captive. John of France having been feasted here in the time of Edward III., it much more probably has taken its Mr. URBAN, Com. Dunelm. Oct. 16. BEING in the company of an old Clergyman a few days ago, our conversation accidentally turned upon the two great dramatic rivals Kemble and Kean. I was interrogated to which I gave the preference, and said, to Kemble; and being asked why, I said, on account of his understanding the meaning of his Author: this is a qualification which Mr. Kean has not yet acquired, and it is doubtful, I added, whether he ever will. His action and various attitudes are fine, and these are the only professional qualities which have been the means of bringing him into such repute; so much so, that he is thought superior even to Garrick.-I then related the "bad luck" attendant last year on Mr. Kemble's representation of Sir Giles Overreach; and I finished all that I had further to say on this subject in the following words-Nothing was wanting in Mr. Kemble to please the wolfish part of the congregation, except a few slaps on the forehead, and on his breast: these, I said, Mr. Kemble could do if he chose; but we all know that he is not so foolish as to injure his lungs; which, I said, are at present, when at the best, in a very lamentable condition. Having ended, a short pause ensued; when the old Parson in a very humourous manner exclaimed, "Mr. Kemble is Abel, and Mr. Kean, Cain." This, Mr. Urban, I imagine you will not consider as a bad pun. ** F. S. A. Mr.URBAN, Dunkeswell, Sept. 29. The Wheat in the county of DeHE reaping and harvesting of von is attended with so heavy an expence, and with practices of so very disorderly a nature, as to call for the strongest mark of disapprobation, and * See p. 446. their immediate discontinuance, or at least a modification of their pas time after the labours of the day. The wheat being ready to cut down, and amounting to from ten to twenty acres, notice is given in the neighbourhood that a reaping is to be performed on a particular day, when, as the farmer may be more or less liked in the village, on the morning of the day appointed, a gang consisting of an indefinite number of men and women assemble at the field, and the reaping commences after breakfast, which is seldom over till between eight and nine o'clock. This com pany is open for additional hands to drop in, at any time before the twelfth hour, to partake of the frolick of the day. By eleven or twelve o'clock the ale and cider has so much warmed and elevated their spirits, that their noisy jokes and ribaldrý are heard to a considerable distance, and often serve to draw auxiliary force within the accustomed time. The dinner, consisting of the best meat and vegetables, is carried into the field between twelve and one o'clock; this is distributed with copious draughts of ale and cider; and by two o'clock the pastime of cutting and binding the wheat is resumed, and continued without other interruption than the squabbles of the party, until about five o'clock, when what is called the drinkings are taken into the field, and under the shade of a hedge-row or a large tree, the panniers are examined, and buns, cakes, and all such articles are found as the confectionary skill of the farmer's wife could produce for gratifying the appetites of her customary guests at this season. After the drinkings are over, which generally consume from half to three quar ters of an hour (and even longer if such can be spared from the completion of the field) the amusement of the wheat-harvest is continued with such exertions as draw the reaping and binding of the field together with the close of the evening; this done, a small sheaf is bound up and set upon the top of one of the ridges, when the reapers retiring to a certain distance, each throws his reap-book at the sheaf until one more fortunate, or less inebriated than the rest, strikes it down. This achievement is accompanied with the utmost stretch and power of the voices of the company, uttering words very indistinctly, but somewhat to this |