1 6 EASY-CHAIR MEMORIES 



pation and in the exercise of a vivid imagina- 

 tion it is delightful; but angling is not the 

 only thing that contributes to one's peace and 

 rest. The other day I had a house or, as 

 it turned out, a barn afire to relieve the 

 monotony. 



On Monday last we made up a pleasant 

 party, and we took a drive over the Black 

 Mountains, about sixteen miles (there and 

 back), which brought us to the well-known 

 and ofttimes described ruins of Llanthony 

 Abbey, in the lovely and romantic Vale of 

 Ewyas, Monmouthshire. That was a ride 

 when you come to realise it; a large brake, 

 half-a-dozen people, drawn by a strong pair 

 of horses up steep hill-sides in deeply-rutted 

 tracks, jogging over stones, rattling our bones, 

 sometimes being ordered to get down and 

 walk up steep banks for a mile at a time. 

 And then when we got on what we expected 

 to find a level path level it was in a general 

 sense, but when one descends to particulars 

 there was nothing level about it the track 

 was deeply rutted, full of all sorts of gullies 

 and stones, over which the horses dashed along 

 to make up for time lost in climbing. So we 



