in its entire length (eleven miles) from Portland on the east to Abbotsbury on the west. This bird's-eye view of that very remarkable natural breakwater will alone well repay the tourist; for, looking down from the high ground which the road traverses, he will appreciate—as perhaps he will do from no less central spot—the immense size of that curious bar of shingle, averaging some one hundred and eighty yards in width, and some thirty or more in height, and separating the sea from the narrow estuary called the "Fleet." It is the "Chesil Bank" which forms the snug and very retired resting-place of the Swans by day, and it is the "Fleet," to which it gives rise, which is—except during the breeding season—their permanent home.
Arrived at the little village of Abbotsbury, which lies nestled in a valley, secluded from the sea, from which it is but one mile distant, the tourist cannot fail to have his eye attracted to the very picturesque ruins which abound on all sides. Ruined arches, ruined gateways, fragments of wall, and other detached masses of masonry, scattered around in the meadows, indicate where monastic buildings once stood. But conspicuous above all stands the grand old barn, of enormous proportions,—the largest and most magnificent I have ever seen,—the size of which may perhaps be imagined when I mention that I counted, on the eastern side alone, no less than twenty-two massive stone buttresses, while the imposing doorways, the well-finished gables, and the niches for statues mark how complete in all its details, and how finished throughout, was this noble barn of ecclesiastical aspect.
There are, of course, plenty of legends and traditions in connection with the Abbey and the good fathers who once inhabited it; legends, too, of the ancient Chapel of St. Catherine, the ruins of which still crown the height which overhangs the Abbey, and to which we climbed for the bird's-eye view promised therefrom. Indeed the occasional peeps we enjoyed, during momentary intervals of sunshine, revealed most extensive views seawards, another aspect of the Chesil Bank from its western extremity, and a capital sight of the Fleet, dedicated to the Swans. During the greater part of our visit to St. Catherine's Chapel thick and heavy mists continued to sweep over and envelop us; and these, however refreshing on a hot day in July, obliterated the view completely. Nevertheless we had seen enough to impress us with respectful feelings towards the interesting old Abbey and the
