fronts on
the garden. There is no door next the street, the great chimney built on
the outside leaving no room for one.

[Illustration: MILTON'S ROOM IN COTTAGE AT CHALFONT ST. GILES.]

We were now in the vicinity where William Penn was born and where he
lies buried. We had some trouble in finding Jordans, the little
meeting-house near which is the grave of the Quaker philanthropist. Many
of the people of whom we inquired did not know of its existence, and
after considerable wandering through the byways we learned that we were
within a mile of the place. For this distance we followed a shady lane,
over-arched by trees and so ill kept that it was about as rough motoring
as one will find in England. Directly at the foot of a steep hill we
came upon the meeting-house, nestling in a wooded valley. It had in its
plain simplicity the appearance of an ordinary cottage; with the Quakers
there in no such thing as a church, for they prefer to call their places
of worship simply "meeting-houses." We were surprised to find a number
of people about the chapel and soon learned that we had the good fortune
to arrive on one of the meeting days. These meetings had for years been
held annually, but during the present summer they were being held once a
month. As the Friends are not numerous in this vicinity, many of the
congregation had come from long distances--some from London. We learned
this in conversation with a sweet-faced, quiet-mannered lady who had all
the Quaker characteristics. She said that she and her husband had come
from London that day, most of the way on their cycles; that they had
been in Philadelphia and knew something of America. She presented us to
a benevolent-looking, white-bearded man who afterwards proved to be the
leader of the meeting, simply saying, "Our friends are from Iowa." The
old gentleman pressed us to remain, as the meeting would begin
immediately, and we were delighted to acquiesce. There were about forty
people gathered in the little room, which was not more than fifteen by
twenty feet in size and supplied with the plainest straight-backed
benches imaginable. It was a genuine Quaker meeting. For perhaps half an
hour the congregation sat in perfect silence, and finally the old
gentleman who acted as leader arose and explained--largely for our
benefit, I think, as we were the only strangers present--that this was
the Quaker method of worship. Unless a member of the congregation felt
he had something