The New Orleans crescent. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1866-1869, 1869-01-31
The Grave or william Penn.
BY CAPT. xAYsE REID.

In q spot, almost as solitary as that on which he
first act foot In the New World, repose the ashes
of William Penn. 1t is in the shire of Booking
ham, in deep gorge, smond the famed Chiltern
Hills, scaDt twenty miles from the outskirts OF
London. At such short distance from the noisy
metropolis, you could scarce fancy scene 80
tranquil. An american approaching it can hardly
believe he is treadng the thicAly populated soil
The direct way to it would be along the old
coach road from London to Oxford, formerly
travelled by forty stagecoaches; but although
still kept like park drive. with the grass edges
constantly trimmed, 1t is now given up to the hay
wagon OF the farmer. or the cart of the chair.
maker, bringing his beechwood chairs from Wy.
combe and Stokenchurch beyond. Bat neither
the crack of the carriers whip, nor the " wo-ha "
echoes of that quiet graveyard, where the great
peace-msker sleeps. 1t is two miles from the
main road. approached by one of those woodland
lanes for which England has obtained just celeb
nty. In truth, woodlsd lane for all the way
after leaving the turnpike road. you pass under
outrageous beeches, under whose shade Tityrus
could have TRANQUILITY reposed. You may not meet
soul, unless some woodman engaged in choppiDg
the "lop and top" into fagots, or perhaps
the velveteen coated game-keeper of our
friend to whom the woods belong. Just outside
the grounds of his grand old mansion-older than
the time Of Penn himself (see white Gauntlet'')
stands the little Quaker meeting. house, in the
graveyard of which you will find what you are
EVENINGS II IL Oh Tue tugt Ol what, dt uret Sgnt,
appears to be deep gorge in the side Of the hill
but 1t is only big clsy.pit, whence came the
bricks, out of which the mansion (Stone Dean) is
constructed. The building is upon the brink, its
rear wall extending down into the bottom, making
two stories, while 70. frant shows only ono. Tho
s..emAnt the pit-side is 9 stable. said to be
capable Of containing over a hundred horses, but
on measuring, we found ii intended for but one
fourth the number. These are the horses of the
" Friends" who once year, and only once, from
a circle of twenty miles around, assemble in this
solitary spot TO hold their quiet meeting. At all
other times Jordan's for so is the place
known-is left to its peaceful repose, except when
its single aisle echoes the tread Of stray traveller
in most cases, an American-who soon directs
bis steps TO the soft turf Of the cemetery outside
There he sees an Enclosure, not over a rod in ex-
tent, with thorn hedge around it, and row of
linden trees along one side-the trees of them
selves rare species in the neighborhood. He
sees neither monument nor mausoleum-not even
tombstoDe-not even the simplest recording
slab Only few score graves covered with
grass, without tree, shrub or flower, not even the
lsmeDting willow. One Of these, in no way dis.
tiDguished from the rest, is pointed out as the
grave OF the great coonist and three others along
side 1t are those of near and dear relatives. After
contemplating this, the American turns away with
wonder-the Pennsylvania, with feeling akin to
shame. He ia perhaps little comforted, on being
told that the absence of a tombstone over his
great ancestor arises from no disrespect, but
merely because such adornment of the dwellings
OF the dead Is opposed to the sober sentiment of
the Quskers-in fact, contrary to their creed.
he has more reason to feel dissatisfied, when,
on iDquiring from the peasant outside-be he
farmer or woodchopper-to ind the latter scarce
knows the name, much less the history, of him
whose resting place he has come so far to visit.
All these likely to tell him it is that place
be called Joordans. 1t bee a Quaker meetin'.
house, WHARF them people cooms wuns't every
yeer-most o. them 10 theer carriages"
The pilgrim is perhaps more shocked on learn
ing that among still higher class and in great
London itself, be would scarce meet hundred
people who could guide him to the resting. place
Of Penn! This great good man was not among
the things England delights to honor.
We have ourselves conducted many Americans
to The spot-for our own pleasant home of many
long years, now forever forsaken, not far from
i. And it was gratifying to witness the enthu- |
has OF these trans Atlantic pilgrims, while stand
ng by the grave of their illustrious ancestor; and
be was their ancestor, for with equal respect did
hey stsnd uncovered by the doer of an humble |
iomcil, In the village of Chaliont st. Giles, scarce
wo miles of, where Milton had taken refuge from |
persecution. 1t was amusing to see the way in |
which they collected plants, stones and pieces of |
ime mortar loading our barouche, almost to the |
iraught capacity of a pair of srong well booded |
lorses. We were less pleased when they showed
quail affection for relics gathered near Gray's |
omb. in the churchyard of Stoke Pogis some Eve
piles across country. :" 1t" is a splendid mauso-
cum, such as in England was sure to be erected
yer the man who wrote:
"some Cromwell gultlsss of his eountry's blood
When our American friends wished further 10
bad the carriage with memeDtoes of this one
zoe m poet, we could nothelp crying out: please