DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.61904#0219
RIEVAUX ABBEY.
207
tangled wood. One of its brethren grew weary of this mono-
tony of life—of the ftricftnefs of Ciftercian difcipline—of the
vaft and defert ftillnefs that lay like a nightmare on the place,
and refolved to make his efcape. He plunged into the woods
and hurried defperately along, threading the thickets, wading
through morafles, clambering up rugged fteeps, but becoming
only the more involved in the intricacies of thefe dales and
forefts. Still he hoped eventually to reach fome habitable fpot;
and towards funfet, juft as the fhadows caft a deeper gloom,
his wifh was accompliflied. He caught the found of a bell,
and hurried wildly towards it. Soon above the trees peered
the towers and fpires of a lordly building. He drew near and
gazed in amazement—not on the hofpitable caftle of fome
neighbouring baron, but on the carved and crocheted front of
his own abbey, which he had left in the morning.
The poor monk had experienced what many a wanderer in
unknown wilds has experienced, both before and fmce —what
the Auftralian terms being “ bufhed.” Confounded by the
blinding denfenefs of the foreft, thrown from his intended track
by unexpected obftacles, he had grown anxious, and from his
anxiety confufed. In fuch a condition all idea of the quarters
of the heavens are loft, and the alarmed wanderer goes round
in a circuit when he imagines that he is going direCtly onwards.
Many a man in the vaft woods of new regions has thus gyrated
from day to day till he has fallen exhaufted, and left his bones
to ftartle in after years fome perhaps equally bewildered tra-
veller. The monk of Rievaux, more fortunate, on recognizing
his old abode, faid “ The hand of God is in it!” defcended the
hill, rang the bell, and begged to be again admitted amongft the
brethren.
In the courfe of time Rievaux, or the abbey in the vale of
Rye, became the head of the Ciftercian order in England. At
207
tangled wood. One of its brethren grew weary of this mono-
tony of life—of the ftricftnefs of Ciftercian difcipline—of the
vaft and defert ftillnefs that lay like a nightmare on the place,
and refolved to make his efcape. He plunged into the woods
and hurried defperately along, threading the thickets, wading
through morafles, clambering up rugged fteeps, but becoming
only the more involved in the intricacies of thefe dales and
forefts. Still he hoped eventually to reach fome habitable fpot;
and towards funfet, juft as the fhadows caft a deeper gloom,
his wifh was accompliflied. He caught the found of a bell,
and hurried wildly towards it. Soon above the trees peered
the towers and fpires of a lordly building. He drew near and
gazed in amazement—not on the hofpitable caftle of fome
neighbouring baron, but on the carved and crocheted front of
his own abbey, which he had left in the morning.
The poor monk had experienced what many a wanderer in
unknown wilds has experienced, both before and fmce —what
the Auftralian terms being “ bufhed.” Confounded by the
blinding denfenefs of the foreft, thrown from his intended track
by unexpected obftacles, he had grown anxious, and from his
anxiety confufed. In fuch a condition all idea of the quarters
of the heavens are loft, and the alarmed wanderer goes round
in a circuit when he imagines that he is going direCtly onwards.
Many a man in the vaft woods of new regions has thus gyrated
from day to day till he has fallen exhaufted, and left his bones
to ftartle in after years fome perhaps equally bewildered tra-
veller. The monk of Rievaux, more fortunate, on recognizing
his old abode, faid “ The hand of God is in it!” defcended the
hill, rang the bell, and begged to be again admitted amongft the
brethren.
In the courfe of time Rievaux, or the abbey in the vale of
Rye, became the head of the Ciftercian order in England. At