except the name of Sibthorpe, which was strange to me, but
instead of going nearer to read it I remained standing to
admire it at that distance. The tablet was of white marble,
and on it was sculptured the figure of a young man with curly
head and classic profile. He was wearing sandals and a loose
mantle held to his breast with one hand, while in the other
hand he carried a bunch of leaves and flowers. He appeared in
the act of stepping ashore from a boat of antique shape, and
the artist had been singularly successful in producing the
idea of free and vigorous motion in the figure as well as of
some absorbing object in his mind. The figure was undoubtedly
symbolical, and I began to amuse myself by trying to guess its
meaning. Then a curious thing happened. A person who had
been moving slowly along near me, apparently looking with no
great interest at the memorials, came past me and glanced
first at the tablet I was looking at, then at me. As our eyes
met I remarked that I was admiring the best memorial I had
found in the abbey, and then added, "I've been trying to make
out its meaning. You see the man is a traveller and is
stepping ashore with a flowering spray in his hand. It
strikes me that it may have been erected to the memory of a
person who introduced some valuable plant into England."

"Yes, perhaps," he said. "But who was he?"

"I don't know yet," I returned. "I can only see that his name
was Sibthorpe."

"Sibthorpe!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Why, this is the very
memorial I've been looking for all over the abbey and had