CHAPTER XIX 



AVALON AND A BlACKBIRD 



At Glastonbury I spent some hours at the Abbey, 

 somewhat disturbed at the huge diggings and a little 

 saddened at the sight of the repairs and restorations ; 

 yet they were necessary if this loveliest ruin in England 

 is to be kept standing a few centuries longer. Un- 

 fortunately, however skilfully the restoring work is 

 done, the new portions will insist on looking out- 

 rageously new. Time will doubtless restore the lost 

 harmony, the ancient venerable appearance, but it will 

 be long before these staring fresh parts will cease to 

 have the effect of patches of a new cloth on the frayed 

 and faded garment. Fifty years of sun and rain will 

 prepare the fresh, hard surfaces for the vegetation that 

 makes a ruin beautiful — valerian, ivy-toadflax, wall- 

 flower, and grey and green lichens and mosses. 



In the course of a conversation I had with some of 

 those engaged in these works at the Abbey, during 

 which the subject of birds came up, Mr. Blythe Bond, 

 the gentleman who has charge of the excavations, 

 informed me that a blackbird in his garden whistled 

 a perfect musical phrase. 



He took me to hear it at his house in the High Street, 

 which had a large garden at the back ; there we seated 

 ourselves in the summer-house and in a very few 



i8. 



