Taylor been slain by the first stone wrenched from the groining the swiftness of the retribution would have rendered it even more dramatic, and would have resulted in the beautiful building being roofed to this day. [Illustration: NETLEY ABBEY.] As it is, the ruins are now open to the sky, and time and the seasons have wrought more havoc in the two centuries that have passed than was inflicted by Taylor or his men. Time, weather, and vandal visitors, that is to say--these last we must by no means forget. Not that they are likely to be forgotten by the pilgrim to this shrine, for the walls are hacked and inscribed with the pocket-knives and pencils of two centuries of holiday-makers, pricked on to it by a noble rage for immortality manifesting itself in this ignoble way. The earlier scrawls of John Jones or William Robinson have themselves, almost by lapse of time, come within the range of archæology. From 1700 to about 1860 these, almost as destructive as the tooth of time, had their wicked will of the place, and it was under such circumstances and the added desecrations of bottled beer, drunken fiddling, and rowdy picnicking, that Barham saw it: In a rush-bottom'd chair A hag surrounded by crockery-ware, Vending in cups to the credulous throng, A nasty decoction miscall'd Souchong,-- And a squeaking fiddle and wry-neck'd fife Are screeching away, for the life!--for the life! Danced to by "All the World and his Wife." Tag, Rag, and Bobtail are capering there, Worse scene, I ween, than Bartlemy Fair!-- Two or three Chimney-sweeps, two or three Clowns, Playing at "pitch and toss," sport their "Browns"; Two or three damsels, frank and free, Are ogling and smiling, and sipping Bohea. Parties below, and parties above, Some making tea, and some making love. Then the "toot-toot-toot" Of that vile demi-flute,-- The detestable din Of that crack'd violin, And the odours of "Stout," and tobacco, and gin. "Dear me!" I exclaimed, "what a place to be in!" Since the dawning of the 'sixties, a better taste has prevailed, and promiscuous jollification has been checked alike by the levying of an entrance fee and by an improvement in manners; but the providing of teas within the ruins is objectionable, and the _quality_ of the "Souchong" and its accompanying sawdusty cake might easily be better--it could not possibly be worse.