dilapidated edifice.

We entered a dark stone apartment, at one corner of which was a
kind of window occupied by a turning table, at which articles were
received into the convent or delivered out. He rang the bell, and,
without saying a word, retired, leaving me rather perplexed; but
presently I heard, though the speaker was invisible, a soft
feminine voice demanding who I was, and what I wanted. I replied
that I was an Englishman travelling into Spain, and that passing
through Monte Moro I had ascended the hill for the purpose of
seeing the ruins. The voice then said, "I suppose you are a
military man going to fight against the king, like the rest of your
countrymen." "No," said I, "I am not a military man, but a
Christian, and I go not to shed blood but to endeavour to introduce
the gospel of Christ into a country where it is not known;"
whereupon there was a stifled titter, I then inquired if there were
any copies of the Holy Scriptures in the convent, but the friendly
voice could give me no information on that point, and I scarcely
believe that its possessor understood the purport of my question.
It informed me, that the office of lady abbess of the house was an
annual one, and that every year there was a fresh superior; on my
inquiring whether the nuns did not frequently find the time
exceedingly heavy on their hands, it stated that, when they had
nothing better to do, they employed themselves in making
cheesecakes, which were disposed of in the neighbourhood. I
thanked the voice for its communications, and walked away. Whilst
proceeding under the wall of the house towards the south-west, I
heard a fresh and louder tittering above my head, and looking up,
saw three or four windows crowded with dusky faces, and black
waving hair; these belonged to the nuns, anxious to obtain a view