The cedars surpass in growth any I have elsewhere seen. They are so well formed, with graceful boughs tapering towards the top, in the true pyramidical form. A row of these trees, at one time probably cut into grotesque shape, bounds the garden wall. Beneath is a shady walk continued amongst the shrubberies. In the recesses of the paths are ancient figures, carved in wood, some of them are wholly defaced, and lie like senseless blocks ; others can be discovered through the overgrowing moss and lichen, to be designed for representations of Neptunes and Tritons, intended, we suppose, to honor the great mariner, to whom the place formerly belonged. The Abbey of Buckland was founded in the year 1278, by Amicia, Countess of Devon. Letters patent of King Edward the First remain, (a copy of which I have seen) "confirming to Amicia, Countess of Devon, the manors of Buckland, Bykeley, and Walkhampton, to hold according to the deeds which she had of the gift of Isabella de Fortibus, Countess of Abermarl, her daughter, empowering her to found and endow a religious house." Also a deed of Amicia, Countess of Devon, "granting to the Abbot of Quarre, the said manors, according to their metes and bounds." This abbot with his brother monks, of the Cistercian order, came from Quarrer, in the Isle of Wight. At the dissolution of the monasteries, the scite of Buckland Abbey "was first granted 33. Henry 8th to Richard Greynfeld, and four years after it was conveyed to Richard Crymes, of London. In the time of Queen Elizabeth, it was purchased by Sir Francis Drake, in a descendant of whose family it still continues.” The housekeeper at Buckland relates many wonderful stories connected with the " famous waryer," as he is vulgarly called. Amongst others, it is said that Sir Francis by miraculous means, brought a rivulet of water into Plymouth for the supply of the inhabitants. According to the tradition, the stream followed his horses heels

from Dartmoor to the town! Considering the length of the course of the Plymouth leat, and the comparative ignorance in practical science of the times in which it was constructed, we are not surprised at the completion of the work having been ascribed to supernatural agency. But the energetic spirit of our hero was equal to this and greater things. His memory is still held in much veneration by the people of this neighborhood; and Buckland Abbey is even more regarded as having been the residence of Drake, than as having served the purposes of ascetic seclusion.* The park and grounds of the Abbey are rich in varied scenery.

The woods near Denham-bridge excite our warmest admiration. In the "leafy month of June" they present one mass of rich foliage sloping to the water's edge. On the Abbey side of the river the trees are more scattered, but they are finely grouped, and add much to the beauty of the bending lawn.

In the middle of the park is Drake's Oak, so called from the tradition that Sir Francis Drake climbed into it to escape from a stag, by which he was pursued. There must have been fine sport for the lordly Abbots in hunting the red deer through these sylvan scenes. We may imagine a goodly stag throwing its antlers on high, and bounding before the hounds through the extensive park. Now it appears at a distance in some opening glade; now it dashes into the thick copse wood, and is lost to view: again it emerges, breathless and panting, and as a last resource plunges into the neighboring stream. Cleaving the river with his noble sides, he at length reaches the opposite bank, and holds his pursuers at bay. But short his respite ;-the wily

* From Historic Collections relating to the Monasteries in Devon, by the Rev. George Oliver.

huntsmen have crossed the bridge and are come upon the only open track.

Amid the groves

Of willows, bending low their downy heads
Breathless and faint, he falters in his pace,
And lifts his weary limbs with pain, that scarce
Sustain his load; he pants, he sobs, appalled;
Drops down his heavy head to earth, beneath
His cumbrous beams oppressed.*

While the hot tears roll down his cheeks, the exulting hounds pinion him to the ground, and some fat old friar looks calmly on his agony, sharpening his knife the while, and thinking only of the venison. The race of wild deer is totally extinct in the South of Devon. The last herd was lost in the Tamar about fifty years since. One winter the farmers drove the poor creatures into the river, to get rid of them from their cornfields, they were drowned by the breaking of the ice. It is said that the neighboring inhabitants had a pique against the master of the hounds, who was overbearing and discourteous in his behavior. I believe the red deer are still kept for pursuit in the North of Devon. Certainly no finer spot could be chosen for the chase than the verdant lawn of Buckland Abbey; we quite regret the loss of the beautiful creatures that formerly bounded through the park; and must fain be content with those goodly horses and frolicsome colts that glance along between the knotted trunks of the trees. There is sport yet remaining for the angler, who may enjoy to his heart's content the quiet banks of the rolling stream, and be repaid for his patient labors with some of the finest trout, and small salmon, or salmon-peel, in the country. I have often admired the picturesque scene presented by the rocky weir near Denhambridge, with the rising woods on one side, and the verdant lawn on the other; while a fisherman with his

*The Chase. SOMERVILLE.

appropriate accoutrements is stationed without motion on the rocks, watching for his finny prey. One could linger for days in this lovely retreat, and never be wearied of beholding and admiring, and imagining; but the time-bound traveller must content himself with but a casual survey of these witching scenes, and retrace his steps through the park to the lodge gate, which opens on the road to the village, in the neighborhood of the Abbey. He must not forget to note on the left side in ascending the steep acclivity that leads from the house, the now almost overgrown fish-ponds, which formerly supplied the tables of the monks with their fast-day fare. Let him pause also at the lodge, to observe two beautiful avenues of over-arching limes, which, like the aisles of some grand cathedral are drawn out on either side the road.

At about a mile distant is the antique village of Buckland-Monachorum. This evidently derives its name from the time of monachism. Its church, which is the great object of attraction also bears marks of the catholic rule. It is a massive structure, like a small cathedral. Along the principal aisle are a number of grotesque little figures, intended, we must in courtesy suppose, for the representation of angels. On entering the sacred edifice our attention is immediately attracted to the exquisite monument erected to the memory of General Elliot. The entablature represents the defence of Gibraltar, so ably conducted by this military hero. There is a representation of the embrasures, whence the cannon, planted in excavations of the rock, fired red hot balls on the Spanish fleet assembled in the bay, with a view to take the fortress by storm. The whole is sculptured on white marble, in a most masterly style, by Bacon. There is another handsome monument in the church, erected to the late Lord Heathfield. The exterior of the edifice is massive and imposing.

In the church-yard is a venerable tree, which seems as old as the church itself. Near it is an ancient sundial. By the gate a new school house has been erected, where the children of the village have the benefit of good instruction.

The traveller may either return to Tavistock by the Plymouth road, or chuse another more picturesque, but at the same time more difficult route by Denham-bridge.