me at my work, never taking me by surprise. The sense of consideration and courtesy which their kindly hospitality displayed was manifested in countless ways. The small return which it was possible to make quite shamed me before them. Frequently, at midnight, when my lights were burning, the Abbot would walk across from his own apartments and force me to bed with many smiles and much gentle pressure, covering my manuscript with his hands and nodding towards my camp-bed. There was no screen to the front of my building, so it was always possible for them to observe the stranger within their gates. This inspection was most quietly carried on; indeed, if I turned to the open courtyard, those who, perhaps, had been noting the structure of my camp-bed, or the contents of my valise, hanging to air upon a stout rope, flitted away like ghosts. I was left, as I wished, in peaceful contemplation of my work and the splendour of the scenery around me.
Catering arrangements were quite simple during my stay in this monastery. Rice and eggs and fowls were procurable from the villages beyond the walls of the temple, and rice-flour or vegetables could be procured from the butterman of the monastery. It was my plan to take breakfast about ten o'clock in the morning, and to dine about six o'clock in the evening. Between these hours was my time for writing, and I was always fully occupied. Before breakfast I walked abroad or prepared my notes of the work for the day; after dinner I received my callers, arranging anything of interest in my notes when they were gone. Usually I witnessed the midnight gathering of the monks, listening, with pleasure, to the booming of the great bell of the monastery and the accompanying peals of smaller bells of less melodious volume and much shriller
