And very simple were the inscriptions chiseled upon the stones.  All around the meeting-house is a forest of great trees, and no other building is in the immediate vicinity.  One might almost have imagined himself at a Quaker service in pioneer times in America, when the meeting-houses were really as remote and secluded as this one seemed, rather than within twenty miles of the world’s metropolis, in a country teeming with towns and villages.

It was about three o’clock when we left Jordans with a view of reaching Oxford, still a good many miles away, by nightfall.  In this vicinity are the Burnham beeches, made known almost everywhere by the camera and the brush of the artist.  A byway runs directly among the magnificent trees, which we found as imposing as the pictures had represented—­sprawling old trees, many feet in circumference, but none of very great height.  Near by is Stoke-Poges church, whose memory is kept alive by the “Elegy” of the poet Gray.  It is one of the best known of the English country churches and is visited annually by thousands of people.  The poet and his relatives are buried in the churchyard and the yew tree under which he is said to have meditated upon the theme of the immortal poem is still standing, green and thriving.  The church, half covered by ivy and standing against a background of fine trees, presents a beautiful picture.  In the immediate neighborhood a monument has been raised in memory of Gray—­a huge bulk of stone of inartistic and unpleasing design.  The most appropriate monument of the poet is the church itself, with its yew tree, which is now known wherever the English language is spoken.

Two or three miles farther on is Windsor, with its castle, the principal residence of royalty, and Eton College, its well known school for boys.  This school is more exclusive and better patronized than Harrow, and I was told that it is quite a difficult problem for the average youth to enter at all.  The sons of the nobility and members of the royal family are given the preference and expenses are so high as to shut out all but the wealthy.  Windsor Castle is the most imposing of its kind in the world.  It is situated on the Thames River, about twenty miles from London.  Crowning a gently rising hill, its massive towers and battlements afford a picturesque view from almost anywhere in the surrounding country and especially from points of vantage in the park, where one can catch glimpses of the fortress through some of the avenues of magnificent trees.  On a clear day, when the towers of the castle are sharply outlined against the sky and surmounted by the brightly colored royal standards, one might easily imagine himself back in the good old days of knight-errantry.  Windsor is shown to visitors at any time when the royal family is not in residence.  Queen Victoria and Albert, the Prince Consort, are buried in Frogmore Park, near by, but the tombs are sacredly guarded from the public.  The grounds surrounding the castle