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and knotted grasses, stumbling over stones fallen from the place of honour. No swelling anthems are heard there now, or penitential psalms; but only the voice of birds, winds, and waters. But this blank is what the stranger comes for. Knowing what a territory the Abbots of Furness ruled over, like a kingdom, it is well to come hither to look how it is with that old palace and mitre, and to take one more warning of how Time shatters thrones, and dominations and powers, and causes the glories of the world to pass away.
The stranger will be among the ruins late, by moon or by star light; and again in the morning, before the dew is off, and when the hidden violet perfumes the area where the censer once was swung, and where the pillars cast long shadows on the sward. But he must not linger; for he has a good circuit to make before night.
The lake of Coniston, which is his next object, is in the
district between Windermere and the Duddon, which has
already been mentioned as formerly belonging to Furness
Abbey. From Ulverstone, his road commands the estuary of the
Leven for a few miles, and then approaches the foot of
Coniston Water, which it reaches at eight miles from
Ulverstone. Seven miles more bring him to the New Inn at
Coniston, which, built under the direction of Mr. and Mrs.
J. G. Marshall, is one of the most comfortable hotels in
England. The lake, like Windermere, is flanked by low hills
at the south end, and inclosed by magnificent mountains at
the head, where Mr. J. G. Marshall's house and lands are
more gloriously situated than almost any other in
|-- Coniston Water|
|-- Furness Abbey|
|-- New Inn|