from each occupation with some fresh scar of battling nations
branded on it.

It has in its park a martello tower, autographed all over by tourists,
a dismantled old French fort on the hills beyond the town, and several
antiquated cannon in its public squares. It has other historic spots
also, which may be hunted out by the curious, and none is more quaint
and delightful than Old St. John's Cemetery at the very core of the
town, with streets of quiet, old-time houses on two sides, and busy,
bustling, modern thoroughfares on the others. Every citizen of Kingsport
feels a thrill of possessive pride in Old St. John's, for, if he be of
any pretensions at all, he has an ancestor buried there, with a queer,
crooked slab at his head, or else sprawling protectively over the grave,
on which all the main facts of his history are recorded. For the most
part no great art or skill was lavished on those old tombstones. The
larger number are of roughly chiselled brown or gray native stone, and
only in a few cases is there any attempt at ornamentation. Some are
adorned with skull and cross-bones, and this grizzly decoration is
frequently coupled with a cherub's head. Many are prostrate and in
ruins. Into almost all Time's tooth has been gnawing, until some
inscriptions have been completely effaced, and others can only be
deciphered with difficulty. The graveyard is very full and very bowery,
for it is surrounded and intersected by rows of elms and willows,
beneath whose shade the sleepers must lie very dreamlessly, forever
crooned to by the winds and leaves over them, and quite undisturbed by
the clamor of traffic just beyond.

Anne took the first of many rambles in Old St. John's the next
afternoon. She and Priscilla had gone to Redmond in the forenoon and
registered as students, after which there was nothing more to do that
day. The girls gladly made their escape, for it was not exhilarating to
be surrounded by crowds of strangers, most of whom had a rather alien
appearance, as if not quite sure where they belonged.

The "freshettes" stood about in detached groups of two or three,
looking askance at each other; the "freshies," wiser in their day and
generation, had banded themselves together on the big staircase of the
entrance hall, where they were shouting out glees with all the vigor of
youthful lungs, as a species of defiance to their traditional enemies,
the Sophomores, a few of whom were prowling loftily about, looking
prope