“At the western end of the Nave rise two towers--one of them, with modernized doors and windows, is inhabited. An open arcade extends in front of part of the adjoining cloister, and advancing through the open door it shaded, we found ourselves in a long vaulted half-parlour half-kitchen, with old arms suspended above the fire-place; sides of bacon nobly flanking the whitewashed walls; old chairs and cabinets, and various minor articles of furniture, all arranged with a neatness which betokened that the presiding genius of the place was feminine. Just as we had come to this conclusion, forth stepped from an inner recess the gentle tenant of the abode of the ancient monks, with a quiet simplicity of manner which went to the heart of a weary pilgrim, and made him feel instantly as if at home, and welcome. A little repose, and a cup of tea beside a blazing hearth--for even in summer the air is shrewd among these hills at evening--entirely refreshed us; and just as the sun was going down in the west, we sallied forth to see the ruins. Albeit the hospitality in early times was here dispensed by shaven monks, and now by maidens fair, there is a singular charm felt by all who visit Llanthony, in this quiet living within the precincts of the Abbey, which interests the imagination, and helps to blend agreeably the past and present. “With this half-dreamy feeling I went forth, and ascended a slight eminence to the westward, whence the whole pile extended at length its ruined towers and arches, half-buried in trees, and overhung with the lofty hills which shut in the vale, and opened no view to the distant world beyond. These hills were cultivated half-way up their sides; a few farms, each sending up its column of smoke, appeared at intervals, with paths leading up into the wild heath that clothed the summits. The evening sun cast a broad red light upon the west front and towers of the pile, and half gilded the remaining portion. I thought I had never beheld, even among the secluded abbeys of the Yorkshire dales, anything more romantically serene. It was getting dusk ere I could tear myself from the spot. The moon was that evening at the full; and it gave me the opportunity of rambling among the ruins, before I repaired to my dormitory in the abbey tower, which I ascended by a narrow flight of stone steps. One might, in idea, have gone back to the olden time, and fancied oneself a pilgrim in very earnest, receiving hospitality from the ancient tenants of the place, had it not been for the dainty whiteness of the bed, which occupied a story of the old tower--far different, I trow, from the rude pallets of these romantic but uncomfortable ages.”[346] [Illustration: _Llanthony Abbey._]