They went in by the entrance gates, past the simple, massive, stone arch surmounted by the great lion of England.
"'And on Inkerman yet the wild bramble is gory, And those bleak heights henceforth shall be famous in story,'" quoted Anne, looking at it with a thrill.

They found themselves in a dim, cool, green place where winds were fond of purring.

Up and down the long grassy aisles they wandered, reading the quaint, voluminous epitaphs, carved in an age that had more leisure than our own.
"'Here lieth the body of Albert Crawford, Esq.,'" read Anne from a worn, gray slab, "'for many years Keeper of His Majesty's Ordnance at Kingsport.

He served in the army till the peace of 1763, when he retired from bad health.

He was a brave officer, the best of husbands, the best of fathers, the best of friends.