That of Cardinal Beaufort is in a style more free and of more taste than any thing I have seen of the kind.  His figure confirms me in my opinion that I have struck out the true history of the picture that I bought of Robinson; and which I take for the marriage of Henry VI.  Besides the monuments of the Saxon Kings, of Lucius, William Rufus, his brother, etc. there are those of six such great or considerable men as Beaufort, William of Wickham, him of Wainfleet, the Bishops Fox and Gardiner, and my Lord Treasurer Portland.—­How much power and ambition under half-a-dozen stones!  I own, I grow to look on tombs as lasting mansions, instead of observing them for curious pieces of architecture!- -Going into Southampton, I passed Bevismount, where my Lord Peterborough

“Hung his trophies o’er his garden gate;"(607)

but General Mordaunt was there, and we could not see it.  We walked long by moonlight on the terrace along the beach--Guess, if we talked of and wished for you!  The town is crowded; sea-baths are established there too.  But how shall I describe Netley to you?  I can only by telling you, that it is the spot in the world for which Mr. Chute and I wish.  The ruins are vast, and retain fragments of beautiful fretted roofs pendent in the air, With all variety of Gothic patterns of windows wrapped round and round with ivy-many trees are sprouted up amongst the walls, and Only want to be increased with cypresses!  A hill rises above the abbey encircled with wood:  the fort, in which we would build a tower for habitation, remains with two small platforms.  This little castle is buried from the abbey in a wood, in the very centre, on the edge of the hill:  on each side breaks in the view of the Southampton sea, deep blue, glistering with silver and vessels; on one side terminated by Southampton, on the other by Calshot castle; and the Isle of Wight rising above the opposite hills.  In short, they are not the ruins of Netley, but of Paradise.—­Oh! the purple abbots, what a spot had they chosen to slumber in!  The scene is so beautifully tranquil, that they seem only to have retired into the world.(608)

I know nothing of the war, but that we catch little French ships like crawfish.  They have taken one of ours with Governor Lyttelton(609) going to South Carolina.  He is a very worthy young man, but so stiffened with Sir George’s old fustian, that I am persuaded he is at this minute in the citadel of Nantes comparing himself to Regulus.

Gray has lately been here.  He has begun an Ode,(610) which if he finishes equally, will, I think, inspirit all your drawing again.  It is founded on an old tradition of Edward 1. putting to death the Welsh bards.  Nothing but you, or Salvator Rosa, and Nicolo Poussin, can paint up to the expressive horror and dignity of it.  Don’t think I mean to flatter you; all I would say is, that now the two latter are dead, you must of necessity be Gray’s