By far the most interesting part of the whole convent is the cloister, in shape a very long parallelogram, the two side galleries being 721 feet in length; into them open the cells of the monks. In the centre of the cloister is their burial-ground; and thus their abode in life is separated by but a few steps from their final resting-place. The graves of the generals of the order are alone marked by stone crosses; all others lie beneath the greensward unmarked, unnamed. The cells are now but rarely shown. They are all alike, consisting of two rooms one above the other; each has a small garden. Food is passed to the inmates through a wicket opening into the corridor of the cloister; for it is only on Sundays and certain feast-days that the monks dine in common in the refectory; even then the strictest silence is observed. The library is not extensive; the most valuable books and manuscripts were given, at the Revolution, to different public libraries. The _liqueur_ for which the Grande Chartreuse is so renowned, and which now forms the principal source of income for the convent, is manufactured in a house quite apart from the main buildings. The process is, of course, not shown to visitors, for the recipe used--aromatic herbs of various kinds--is kept a secret; and hitherto all attempts to imitate this _liqueur_ have been failures. The manufacture occupies a large staff of lay brothers. The fathers take no part in it; their lives are purely contemplative. It takes fully two days to explore the environs, and more time may profitably be spent in doing so should the tourist happen to be either an artist or a botanist. The former will find numberless points of view worthy to adorn his album, while the latter will revel in the luxuriance of the wondrous flora which clothes the neighboring hills. The lover of mountain-climbing will find a pleasant and easy day's work in the ascent of the Grand Som, and on a fine day will be amply repaid by the extensive prospect the summit commands. The less enterprising will probably be satisfied with the many pleasant walks through the woods and sloping pastures that surround the monastery, of which varied and striking views may be obtained at every turn. It was not without a feeling of sincere regret that, on the last evening of my stay, I ascended one of those slopes to take a farewell view of the venerable pile. The last rays of the setting sun lit up the high-pitched roofs and cross-topped belfries; a solemn silence reigned in cloister and courtyard, in chapel and cell. It was a scene on which one could gaze with unmixed pleasure, awakening as it did in the mind feelings so calm and peaceful--a scene so full of all that spoke of future hopes, so empty of all that recalled the fleeting joys of the present!