Long, coarse grass grows rank over these historic graves; lizards play about the chinks of the dilapidated tombs; the outer wall is partly broken down; but the peaceful solitude of the graves is not disturbed, and the spot is controlled, if by an alien, at least by a loyal people.
Reid describes the serene yet neglected state of historic graves, highlighting the passage of time.
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No matter what we wish, the old continental isolation is gone forever.
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