Never Did Four Souls Enjoy Themselves More Than We On This Little
Excursion.
I could not give you an adequate idea of what we saw, or
of the pleasure we took.
Think of coming down from one of these
beautiful hills into Eskdale, or Ennesdale, of walking four miles on
the banks of Ullswater, of looking with your living eyes on Derwent
Water, Grassmere, Windermere, and many other lovely spots of which
you have seen pictures and read descriptions; and of being one in
the pleasantest party in the world, as you think, stopping where,
and when, and as long as any one pleases.
It was on this journey that I first saw a real ruin. The ruins of
Calder Abbey I had never heard of; but the impression it made upon
me I can never forget; partly, perhaps, that it was the first ruin
upon which I ever gazed. One row of the pillars of the great aisle
remains standing. The answering row is gone. Two tall arches of the
body of the main building remain also, and different pieces of the
walls. It is of sandstone; the clusters of columns in the aisle look
as if they were almost held together by the ivy and honeysuckles
that wave around their mouldering capitals with every motion of the
wind. In every crevice, the harebell, the foxglove, and innumerable
other flowers peep forth, and swing in the wind. On the tops of the
arches and walls large flowering shrubs are growing; on the highest
is a small tree, and within the walls are oak trees more than a
century old. The abbey was built seven hundred years ago; and the
ruins that are now standing look as if they might stand many
centuries longer. The owner of the place has made all smooth and
nice around it, so that you may imagine the floor of the church to
look like green velvet. It seems as if the ivy and the flowers were
caressing and supporting the abbey in its beautiful old age.
As I walked under the arches and upon the soft green turf, that so
many years ago had been a cold rough stone pavement, trodden by
beings like myself; and felt the flowers and vines hanging from the
mouldering capitals touch my face; and saw, in the place where was
once a confessional, an oak tree that had taken centuries to grow,
and whose top branches mingled with the smiling crest of flowers
that crowned the tops of the highest arches, - the thought of the
littleness and the greatness of man, and the everlasting beauty of
the works of the Creator, almost overwhelmed me; and I felt that,
after all, I was not in a decaying, ruined temple, but in an
everlasting church, that would grow green and more beautiful and
perfect as time passes on.
There is a fine old park around these lovely ruins; and, not far
off, a beautiful stream of water, with a curious bridge over it.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 6 of 24
Words from 2527 to 3029
of 12178
