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.

As they left Eton and crossed the bridge over the Thames, they duly
admired the magnificent view of Windsor Castle, which may be enjoyed
from that point. Above its many roofs and towers stands the great
round keep, the oldest part of the castle, having been built by Edward
III.

The castle is on a hill in the center of the town, and the quaint,
red-roofed houses reach even to its walls. After passing the statue of
Queen Victoria, the automobile left the party at the entrance to the
castle, through Henry VIII's gateway, carved with the Tudor Rose.
Inside, they joined a party and were shown about by a guide.

They saw so many buildings that John and Betty found it rather
bewildering. In thinking it over a