come again to take possession of and reinhabit their old abode. And
being their _jour de spaciment_, the whole society was before us, as
they returned from their little pilgrimage up the mountain, where they
had been visiting St. Bruno's chapel and spring; and it was impossible
not to think with respect of the self-devotion of these men, who, after
having for many years partaken (in a greater or less degree) of the
habits and comforts of a civilised life, had thus voluntarily withdrawn
themselves once more to their stern yet beautiful solitude (truly, as
Gray calls it, a _locus severus_), there to practise the severities of
their order, without, it may be supposed, any possessions or means,
except what they were themselves enabled to throw into a common stock;
for nearly the whole of their property had been seized by the government
during the Revolution, and was still held by it.

Our conversation was almost wholly with two of the fathers (they use the
prefix _Dom_), whose names I forget, and have mislaid my memorandum of
them. One of these had been in England, when driven out; and was there
protected by the Weld family in Dorsetshire, of whom he spoke in terms
of sincere gratitude and respect. The other told us that he was a native
of Chambery, and had done no more than cross the mountains to get home.
On asking him for Gray's Ode, he shook his head, saying, the Revolution
had robbed them of that, and every thing else; but repeated the first
line of it, so that there was no mistake as to the object of my inquiry.
From what occurred afterwards, it appears, however, to be questionable
whether he knew more than the first line; for I was informed that later
English travellers had been attempting, from a laudable desire of
diffusing information, to write out the whole in the present Album of
the Chartreuse, by contributing a line or stanza, as their recollection
served; but that, after all, this pic-nic composition was not exactly
what Gray wrote. Of course, had our friend the Dom known how to supply