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 really worth saying, he waited to speak only “as the Spirit moved him.”  I could not help thinking that I had been in many meetings where, if this rule had been followed, everybody would have been better off.  However, in the course of a few minutes he arose again and began his talk.  We had attended many services in England at noted churches and cathedrals, but for genuine Christianity, true brotherly love and real inspiration, I think the half hour talk of the old Quaker was worth them all.  We agreed that it was one of our most fortunate experiences.

In the churchyard we stood before the grave of William Penn, marked by the plainest kind of a small headstone and identical with the few others beside it.  We expressed wonder at this, but the lady with whom we had previously talked explained that it would be inharmonious with the Quaker idea to erect a splendid monument to any man.  For many years the graves had not been marked at all, but finally it was decided that it would not be inappropriate to put up plain headstones, all of the same style, to let visitors know where the great Quaker and his family rest.