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verely fleeced, though not quite destroyed, like so many other hospitals, at the reformation. Instead of seventy residents, as well clergy as laity, who were here entirely supported, besides one hundred out-members, who daily received their meat and drink, the charity consists at present but often residing brethren, and three out-pensioners, exclusive of one chaplain and the master. It is true, however, that certain doles of bread continue to be distributed to the poor of the neighbourhood; and, what is perhaps the only vestige left in the kingdom of the simplicity and hospitality of ancient times, the porter is daily furnished with a certain quantity of good bread and beer, of which every traveller or other person whosoever, that knocks at the

lodge lodge and calls for relief, is entitled to partake gratis.

The brethren of this venerable institute, being happily destined “ to walk through the cool sequestered vale of life, have kept the noiseless tenor of their way,” in succession, during almost eight centuries.

They are only the masters, who have been mostly clergymen of considerable distinction, that afford any materials for history.”

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LYMINGTON is about twenty

miles west of Southampton, by, Redbridge and Lindhurst, lying in the New Forest. It is a little incorporated town, with a little body, and a little town-hall, which is made use of to little pupose; but should the company who go

there to bathe wish to make use of it for a ball or a concert, this little corporation, like the dog in the manger, generally makes a great deal of fuss about it. The ride from Southampton to Lymington is over as good a piece of road, and through as pleasant a part of the country, as any in England, which is a stronger incentive to the visitors of Lymington. than any thing else; and from the little time they stay there, it appears to be the only one, for they seem to return as soon as they can, in order that they may have the opportunity of going the same piece of ground over again.


The baths are nearly a mile out of the town, through a' ragged neighbourhood and a wretched road; and, when you get there, the manner of bathing is the most uncomfortable, and the water less salutary than it should be, from being mixed with the freshes and the springs that incorporate themselves with the seawater.


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This royal watering place has nothing to recommend it but its conveniency in respect to bathing; no ride, no object, but that steril rock the Isle of Portland; no walk but the Esplanade, which has little variety in point of view, but is one straight line of rubbish, thrown up from the level as a kind of barrier, to prevent the town from being overwhelmed by a more than ordinary tide.

Gloucester-Lodge, where the Royal Family reside, is before you enter the town, nearly in the front of the bay. The hotel is on a line with the Lodge, and hasa small Assembly-room, which

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