Page:Over fen and wold; (IA overfenwold00hissiala).pdf/202

 Crowland is a thoroughly old-world village; I know no other that so well deserves the epithet: its gray-toned cottages, grouped round the decayed and time-rent fane, save the ruins from utter desolation. Crowland impressed us as a spot that exists simply because it has existed: like the abbey, it looks so old that one can hardly imagine it was ever new. It is—

A world-forgotten village, Like a soul that steps aside Into some quiet haven From the full rush of tide. A place where poets still may dream, Where the wheels of Life swing slow; And over all there hangs the peace Of centuries ago.

Crowland village, apart from its ruined abbey, is quaint rather than beautiful; it appeals to the lover of the past perhaps more than to the lover of the picturesque. We found there a primitive and clean little inn where we stabled our horses and procured for ourselves a simple, but sufficient, repast that was served in a tiny parlour. Whilst waiting for our meal to be prepared, having no guide-book, we consulted our Paterson's Roads to see if it gave any particulars of the place, and this is what we discovered: "Crowland, a place of very remote antiquity, particularly interesting to the antiquary on account of the ruins of its once extensive and splendid abbey, and its singular triangular-shaped bridge, is now reduced to the size of a large village that possesses little more than the ruins of its former