After inspecting this interesting edifice, we left its hallowed precincts, and took the hilly path leading to a beautiful terrace, which overlooks the vale; each end of which is decorated with two modern temples, one in the Grecian and the other in the Roman style of architecture. Here are some gaudy copies of the old masters, with some originals, which adorn the centre and side compartments of the ceiling--Guido's Aurora, (copy); Hero and Leander; Diana and Endymion; Hercules and Omphale, &c,--the whole by the pencil of Bernini, an Italian artist. From this terrace the view is enchanting; the distant hills of barren Hambleton subsiding into the fruitful vale; and nearer, fertile fields intersected with wood and mossy rocks; and immediately beneath the eye, the pale and ivied ruin, mouldering over the dust of heroes who fought at Cressy, and of noble pilgrims who died in the Holy Land, and were conveyed to this far-famed sanctuary for interment-- "Which now lies naked to the injuries Of stormy weather." Not far from this Elysium is the seat of Lord Feversham, (late Charles S. Duncombe, Esq.) the owner of the estate, called Duncombe Park, where is a piece of fine sculpture, called the Dog of Alcibiades, said to be the work of Myron, and ranked among the five dogs of antiquity. Here is also the famous Discobolus, which is esteemed the first statue in England. Among the splendid collection of paintings is a candle-light scene (woman and child) by Rubens, which cost 1,500 guineas. The mansion was designed by Sir J. Vanbrugh. Leaving this bewitching retreat, we proceeded down the sides of the woody mount; and after some tedious inquiries respecting our road through this wild region, we were directed to take a path through a sloping wood; but useless are all attempts to describe our route through this wilderness. Sometimes our weary feet were relieved from the rough stones and briars by an intervening lawn; and at others we were entirely shrouded from "day's garish eye" by entwining trees. Our rugged pilgrimage was rendered more endurable by the anticipation of shortly seeing Byland abbey; but still my romantic spirit was loitering in the pillared aisles of Rievaulx. By and by we quitted the wood, and having descended a deep ravine, we climbed a barren moor, over which we had proceeded half way, when to my unutterable joy, we discovered the far-off fane of Rievaulx, whose wan towers just peered from out of the hanging woods. Pursuing our way we soon exchanged the trackless moor for a much more grateful domain. A sloping wood on each side of us opened into a wider expanse, and the turrets of Byland abbey appeared in the distance. At this moment we forgot the toil of threading harassing woods and crossing wide heaths. After refreshing ourselves we proceeded to view the ruin.