Less remains of the Priory church than might be at first supposed from the majestic bulk of the tower and the tall buildings that once formed nave and aisles. The choir has entirely disappeared, and the nave itself, with the north aisle of three bays, has been divided into floors for the purposes of a dwelling-house. It may thus readily be imagined that the interior is as little ecclesiastical in appearance as can well be; although it is true that winding stone staircases serve instead of ordinary domestic stairs, and that here and there some ancient carved corbel, fashioned in the likeness of a human head, projects from walls otherwise to all appearance secular; its stony countenance seeming to grin and gibber in the flickering light of a bedroom candle. Clustered stone pillars, too, thrusting through upper floors, and ending in capitals and sweeping arches, would convince the stranger that he had found himself in some farmhouse entirely out of the common order. Even the coalcellar, which was once a part of the north aisle, has its features, and the coals repose on incised slabs and other memorials of the dead. The cloisters, also, have disappeared; and the monks’ refectory, a detached building on the south side, is now a waggon-shed, its windows filled in with bricks. A peep within discloses a fine open-timbered roof. The only building that yet retains its ancient use is the Prior’s Barn, still, as in bygone centuries, the storehouse of grain, straw, and hay. At the east end of it is a doorway, now blocked up, formerly leading by nineteen steps down to the existing pool called the “Holy Well.” The “Prior’s Pool” is the name of a pond in the meadows westward, to which an avenue of elms leads. Sand Bay, nearly as large as Weston Bay, but quite lonely, stretches from St. Thomas’s Head and Swallow Cliff to Anchor Head, Weston-super-Mare. Shingle and sand continue in an unbroken semicircular sweep, fringed by pastures, to the neighbourhood of Kewstoke, a small village situated on a shelf of rock below the craggy uplands of Worle Hill, and yet raised above the meadows. Nowadays Kewstoke is greatly afflicted in summer by brakes and traps, and strollers from Weston, for it is but two miles from the town, and there are the beautiful Kewstoke woods fringing the road all the way. It thus forms an easy and popular morning or afternoon trip, in spite of the fact that a small toll is payable for the use of it—this being really a private road cut by a Smyth-Pigott in 1848, and used by the public only at the pleasure of those all-pervading landowners of this neighbourhood. Indeed, were it not for this fine level road through the dense woods, Kewstoke would scarcely ever be visited, save by young and energetic people, prepared to circle round by the rugged old way through Worle.