The moss-grown Saxon porch.—Page [97].
They were now walking along a little path which led into the church-yard. A straight gravel walk stretches between the graves, up to the ancient church, which is very small, and has one tower closely covered with ivy. The fine old Saxon porch, and one doorway show great age; but it is in the whole effect rather than in any detail of the little church and its surroundings that the charm lies. One cannot imagine a more quiet, remote spot! On one side is the group of yew-trees which Gray mentions in the poem, and in their shelter are the hoary stones which mark the graves of the “rude forefathers of the hamlet.” Standing there, one almost hesitates to speak above a whisper for fear of arousing something or somebody out of sleep, or of breaking the wonderful spell of the place. Pausing under those trees, and feasting one’s eyes upon the lovely, rural scene, not a sound reaches the ear except the twitter of the birds, and perhaps the faint jingle of a cow-bell. Mrs. Pitt gave a start at the sound of John’s voice, when he suddenly said:
“Let’s go and find Gray’s tomb, Philip; the guidebook says it’s on the other side of the church.”
The rest lingered for just one more look at the little church, with its vines, and the rich, dark-red brick-work of the moss-grown Saxon porch, which the sun touches lovingly as it filters through the heavy leafage of the yew-trees; then they followed Philip and John.
Close to the outer wall of the church is a large tomb in which Gray is buried with his beloved mother. No word on the slab tells that the famous poet is buried within; there is only his mother’s epitaph, which Gray wrote, and in which he speaks of himself as “the only child who had the misfortune to outlive her.”
When Mrs. Pitt came up, John was standing near the tomb with his hat off, saying, “All right, Mr. Gray; I’ll read your poem over again just as soon as ever I get home.”
The bustling, lively scenes of Eton School presented a marked contrast to the quiet of Stoke Poges. Moving about the grounds between the different school-buildings, were dozens of boys all dressed in the regulation Eton suit, such as Philip himself wore. They were laughing, shouting, and playing games, just like other boys, but such actions somehow seemed out of keeping with their quaint costumes. From the automobile John looked down upon them, his eyes full of wonder and surprise.
“I suppose they are real boys,” he said in a puzzled way, “but they don’t look like them.”
While Philip talked with some of his friends, and John lingered near the group, the others visited the beautiful Eton Chapel, and were especially interested in the familiar picture of Sir Galahad, which hangs there. The principal buildings of the school are ranged about two large courts; in the center of the Outer Quadrangle is a bronze statue of Henry VI, the founder of the school. The library is valuable and contains some costly books and manuscripts. Fox, Peel, Chatham, Wellington, and Shelley were Eton boys, and the latter’s autograph may still be seen on one of the desks.