There is not a great deal of ivy upon the walls, and though an ivied wall
is a beautiful object, yet it is better not to have too much,--else it is
but one wall of unbroken verdure, on which you can see none of the
sculptural ornaments, nor any of the hieroglyphics of Time. A sweep of
ivy here and there, with the gray wall everywhere showing through, makes
the better picture; and I think that nothing is so effective as the
little bunches of flowers, a mere handful, that grow in spots where the
seeds have been carried by the wind ages ago.
I have made a miserable botch of this description; it is no description,
but merely an attempt to preserve something of the impression it made on
me, and in this I do not seem to have succeeded at all. I liked the
contrast between the sombreness of the old walls, and the sunshine
falling through them, and gladdening the grass that floored the aisles;
also, I liked the effect of so many idle and cheerful people, strolling
into the haunts of the dead monks, and going babbling about, and peering
into the dark nooks; and listening to catch some idea of what the
building was from a clerical-looking personage, who was explaining it to
a party of his friends. I don't know how well acquainted this gentleman
might be with the subject; but he seemed anxious not to impart his
knowledge too extensively, and gave a pretty direct rebuff to an honest
man who ventured an inquiry of him.
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