grim old Abbey tower.

"Probably this garden belonged to the Abbey in ancient time--our
orchard is so fine. The monks may have planted it; they liked fruit,
those old fellows."

"Oh! did they!" He evidently did not quite comprehend, but was
trying, without asking, to find out what I referred to. I was almost
ashamed, lest he might think I wanted to show off my superior
knowledge.

"The monks were parsons, John, you know. Very good men, I dare say,
but rather idle."

"Oh, indeed. Do you think they planted that yew hedge?" And he went
to examine it.

Now, far and near, our yew-hedge was noted. There was not its like
in the whole country. It was about fifteen feet high, and as many
thick. Century after century of growth, with careful clipping and
training, had compacted it into a massive green barrier, as close and
impervious as a wall.

John poked in and about it--peering through every interstice--leaning
his breast against the solid depth of branches; but their close
shield resisted all his strength.

At last he came back to me, his face glowing with the vain efforts he
had made.