Crossing the Foss road at Lyteford you enter upon a flat moorish country, full of artificial cuts and drains, like the levels in Lincolnshire. Not far before I came to Glassenbury, I observed a great bank, crossing the road, which seemed to be a Roman road. I guess there was a Roman road went from Bristol, through Axbridge, Bridgewater, Taunton, parallel to the Foss, and nearer the ocean. I have been told, between the two last places it is very fair, and paved with stone. With much labour I climbed to the top of the Torr, hanging over the town of Glassenbury. This hill, with that called Werial hill, is a long rib of elevated ground in the midst of this vast level or isle of Avalon. I observed, in its several breaks or gradations, a steepness westward. Here upon the narrow crest of the Torr, which is much the highest, the abbots built a church to St. Michael, of good square stone: the tower is left, though ruinous; and it is an excellent sea-mark: it probably cost more to carry the stone up to this _apex_, than to erect the building. There is a spring half way up it. It is certainly higher than any ground within ten miles of the place. They say here is a passage hence under ground to the abbey. [Sidenote: +Glasenbury.+] [Sidenote: TAB. XXXIII.] [Sidenote: TAB. XXXVII.] [Sidenote: TAB. XXXIV.] This great monastery in superstitious times held the first place for fame and sanctity. Here the christian doctrine first found admittance in Britain, or early tradition has amused us: it is not unlikely the fact may be true, though the persons and circumstances invented: however, it is not to be doubted but king Ina built their church; as one of the most ancient, so the most wealthy and magnificent, loaded with revenues by the Saxon kings, and perhaps the British before them. Truly the abbot lived in no less state than the royal donors: no wonder, when his revenue was equivalent to 40,000l. per ann. he could from the Torr see a vast tract of this rich land his own demesnes, and seven parks well stored with deer belonging to the monastery. It is walled round and embattled like a town, a mile in compass: as yet there are magnificent ruins; but within a _lustrum_ of years, a presbyterian tenant has made more barbarous havock there, than has been since the Dissolution; for every week a pillar, a buttress, a window-jamb, or an angle of fine hewn stone, is sold to the best bidder: whilst I was there they were excoriating St. Joseph’s chapel for that purpose, and the squared stones were laid up by lots in the abbot’s kitchen: the rest goes to paving yards and stalls for cattle, or the highway. I observed frequent instances of the townsmen being generally afraid to make such purchase, as thinking an unlucky fate attends the family where these materials are used; and they told me many stories and particular instances of it: others, that are but half religious, will venture to build stables and out-houses therewith, but