The Present and the Past. 



73 



paced the brethren, their eyes bent on the earth, their thoughts 

 on heaven. Here tolled the great abbey-bell, its sound, full 

 of solemn sweetness, borne not only over the lonely Forest, but 

 down the river seaward to the tossing sailor. Here was that 

 comfort, which could never fail, offered to the most desolate, 

 and heaven itself, as a fatherland, to the exile. Here the great 

 gate not only rolled back the noise of the world, but, to show 

 that mercy is ever better than vengeance, stayed the hand of 

 the law, and blunted the sword of the pursuer. 



In these days we are surrounded by noise and excitement. 

 Everywhere is haste and its accompanying confusion. It matters 

 not what we do, the fever of competition ever rages. We travel 

 as though we were flying from ourselves. We write the history 

 of things before they are accomplished, and the lives of men 

 before they are dead. Surely there is some profit to be found 

 in coming to a quiet village like this, if it will only give us 

 some glimpses of a life which stands out in such strange contrast 

 to our own. 



Canopied Niche in St. Leonard's Chapel. 



