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    [Illustration: The New Forest from Bramble Hill (Sunrise)]




                            THE NEW FOREST:
                                  ITS
                       _History and its Scenery._


                                   BY
                             JOHN R. WISE.

    [Illustration: Old Oak in Boldrewood]


 With 63 Illustrations drawn by Walter Crane, engraved by W. J. Linton,
                             And Two Maps.


                                LONDON:
                  SMITH, ELDER, AND CO., 65, CORNHILL.
                             M.DCCC.LXVII.




                               CONTENTS.


  CHAPTER                                                           PAGE
   Preface                                                           vii
  I. Introductory                                                      1
  II. Its Scenery                                                      7
  III. Its Early History                                              20
  IV. Its Later History                                               39
  V. Calshot Castle and the Old South-Eastern Sea-Coast               49
  VI. Beaulieu Abbey                                                  60
  VII. The South-Western Part.—Brockenhurst, Boldre, Sway,
          Hinchelsea, and Burley                                      74
  VIII. The Central Part.—Lyndhurst                                   85
  IX. Minestead and Rufus’s Stone                                     91
  X. The Northern Part.—Stoney Cross, Bramble Hill, Fritham,
          Bentley, Eyeworth, Studley, and Sloden                     109
  XI. The Valley of the Avon.—Fordingbridge, Charford, Breamore,
          Ibbesley, Ellingham, and Ringwood                          116
  XII. The Valley of the Avon (_continued_).—Tyrrel’s Ford, Sopley,
          and Winkton                                                125
  XIII. Christchurch                                                 129
  XIV. The Old South-Western Seaboard.—Somerford, Chewton Glen,
          Hurst Castle, and Lymington                                145
  XV. The Gipsy and the West-Saxon                                   158
  XVI. The Folk-Lore and Provincialisms                              172
  XVII. The Barrows                                                  196
  XVIII. The Roman and Romano-British Potteries                      214
  XIX. The Parish Registers and Churchwardens’ Books                 226
  XX. The Geology                                                    234
  XXI. The Botany                                                    250
  XXII. The Ornithology                                              258


                               APPENDICES.
  I. Glossary of Provincialisms                                      279
  II. List of the Flowering Plants                                   289
  III. List of the Birds                                             307
  IV. List of the Lepidoptera                                        319
   Postscript                                                        328
   Index                                                             329




                         LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.


  The New Forest from Bramble Hill (Sunrise),            _Frontispiece_.
  Old Oak in Boldrewood,                                   _Title-page_.
                                                                    PAGE
  View in Bushey Bratley                                               1
  The Entrance from Barrow’s Moor to Mark Ash                          6
  The Stream in the Queen’s Bower Wood                                 7
  The Charcoal Burner’s Path                                          19
  The Cattle Ford                                                     20
  View in Gibb’s Hill Wood                                            38
  The Millaford Brook                                                 39
  The Woodcutter’s Track                                              48
  Calshot Castle                                                      49
  Norman Doorway at Fawley Church                                     59
  Arches of the Chapter House                                         60
  Pulpit of the Refectory                                             68
  Old Barn or “Spicarium” of Beaulieu Abbey                           70
  Chapel at St. Leonard’s Grange                                      70
  Canopied Niche in St. Leonard’s Chapel                              73
  View in Frame Wood                                                  74
  View in the Queen’s Bower Wood                                      84
  View in the Great Huntley Woods                                     85
  The Woodman’s Path                                                  90
  Oaks in Boldrewood                                                  91
  Rufus’s Stone                                                       96
  View from Castle Malwood                                           108
  View in Studley Wood                                               109
  View in Puckpits Wood                                              112
  Yews and Whitebeams in Sloden                                      115
  The Avon from Castle Hill                                          116
  The Avon at Ibbesley                                               124
  Tyrrel’s Ford                                                      125
  The Avon at Winkton                                                128
  The Priory Church, Christchurch                                    129
  The Norman House, Christchurch                                     133
  The North Porch and Doorway of the Priory Church                   144
  Chewton Glen                                                       145
  Hurst Castle                                                       157
  View in Mark Ash Wood                                              158
  The King’s Gairn Brook                                             171
  Anderwood Corner                                                   172
  Bushey Bratley (another view)                                      195
  The Urns in Bratley Barrow                                         196
  Keltic Urn, Neck of Roman Wine-Vessel, and Flint Knives            206
  Barrows on Beaulieu Plain                                          213
  Wine-Flask, Drinking-Cups, and Bowls                               214
  Necks of Oil-Flasks                                                218
  Necks of Wine-Vessels and Oil-Flask                                218
  Patterns from Fragments                                            223
  Patterns from Fragments                                            223
  Oil-Flask, Drinking-Cups, Bowl, and Jar                            225
  Boldre Church                                                      226
  Norman Font in Brockenhurst Church                                 233
  The Barton Cliffs                                                  234
  Fossils from the Shepherd’s Gutter Beds                            244
  Fossils from the Brook Beds                                        249
  Barrows Moor Wood                                                  250
  The King’s Gairn Brook (another view)                              257
  The Heronry at Vinney Ridge                                        258
  Nests of the Honey and Common Buzzard                              266
  View in Buckhill Wood                                              276
  The Staple Cross                                                   288
  Gladiolus Illyricus                                                306
  The Kildeer Plover                                                 318
  The Cicada                                                         328


  Map of the Old South-Western Sea-Coast              _to face page_ 149
  Plan of Sloden Hole                                           ”    216
  Section of Hordle Cliff                                       ”    238
  Section of Beckton Cliff                                      ”    241
  Map of the New Forest                                         ”    276




                                PREFACE.


Under the title of the New Forest I have thought it best to include the
whole district lying between the Southampton Water and the Avon, which,
in the beginning of Edward I.’s reign, formed its boundaries. To have
restricted myself to its present limits would have deprived the reader
of all the scenery along the coast, and that contrast which a Forest
requires to bring out all its beauties.

The maps are drawn from those of the Ordnance Survey, reduced to the
scale of half an inch to the mile, with the additions of the names of
the woods taken from the Government Map of the Forest, and my own notes.

The illustrations have been made upon the principle that they shall
represent the scene as it looked at the time it was taken. Nothing has
since been added, nothing left out. The views appear as they were on the
day they were drawn. Two exceptions occur. The ugly modern windows of
Calshot Castle, and the clock-face on the tower of the Priory Church of
Christchurch, have been omitted.

Further, the views have been chosen rather to show the less-known
beauties of the Forest than the more-known scenes. For this reason the
avenue between Brockenhurst and Lyndhurst—the village of Minestead,
nestling half amongst the Forest oaks and half in its own orchards—the
view from Stoney Cross, stretching over wood and vale to the Wiltshire
downs, have been omitted. Every one who comes to the Forest must see
these, and every one with the least love for Nature must feel their
beauty.

In their places are given the quiet scenes in the heart of the great
woods, where few people have the leisure, and some not the strength to
go—quiet brooks flowing down deep valleys, and woodland paths trod only
by the cattle and the Forest workmen.

For the same reason, sunrise, and not sunset, has been chosen for the
frontispiece.

To the kind help of friends I am indebted for much special aid and
information—to the deputy surveyor, L. H. Cumberbatch, Esq., for
permission to open various barrows and banks, for the use of the
Government maps, as also for the Forest statistics—to the Rev. H. M.
Wilkinson, and T. B. Rake, Esq., for great assistance in the botany and
ornithology of the district; as also to Mr. Baker, of Brockenhurst, for
the list of the Forest Lepidoptera.

_London, November, 1862._


                     PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.

Some slight alterations have been made in Chapter III. in the arguments
from _Domesday_, which, as also those upon the former condition of the
district, have been strengthened.

In all other respects, with the exception of some few additions and
corrections, the text is unaltered.

_London, February, 1863._




                            THE NEW FOREST:
                                  ITS
                       _History and its Scenery._


  “Game of hondes he loued y nou, and of w**error(yuml)lde best,
  And h**error(yuml)s forest and h**error(yuml)s wodes, and mest þe
              n**error(yuml)we forest.”

                                      _Robert of Gloucester’s Chronicle_
                                      (concerning William the Conqueror)
                                            Ed: Hearne, vol. ii. p. 375.




                            THE NEW FOREST.




                               CHAPTER I.
                             INTRODUCTORY.


    [Illustration: View in Bushey Bratley.]

No person, I suppose, would now give any attention to, much less approve
of, Lord Burleigh’s advice to his son—“Not to pass the Alps.” We have,
on the contrary, in these days gone into an opposite extreme. We race
off to explore the Rhine before we know the Thames. We have Alpine
clubs, and Norway fishing, and Iceland exploring societies, but most of
us are beyond measure ignorant of our own hills and valleys. Every inch
of Mont Blanc has been traversed by Englishmen, but who dreams of
exploring the Cotswolds; or how many can tell in what county are the
Seven Springs, and their purple anemones? We rush to and fro, looking at
everything, and remembering nothing. We see places only that we may be
seen there, or else be known to have seen them.

Yet to Englishmen, surely the scenes of their own land should possess a
greater interest than any other. Go where we will throughout England,
there is no spot which is not bound up with our history. Nameless
barrows, ruined castles, battlefields now reaped by the sickle instead
of the sword, all proclaim the changes our country has undergone. Each
invasion which we have suffered, each revolution through which we have
passed, are written down for us in unmistakeable characters. The phases
of our Religion, the rise or fall of our Art, are alike told us by the
grey mouldings and arches of the humblest parish Church as by our Abbeys
and Cathedrals. The faces, too, and gait, and dialect, and accent, of
our peasantry declare to us our common ancestry from Kelt, and
Old-English, and Norseman. A whole history lies hid in the name of some
obscure village.

I am not, for one moment, decrying travelling elsewhere. All I say is,
that those who do not know their own country, can know nothing rightly
of any other. To understand the scenery of our neighbours, we must first
see something of the beauties of our own; so that when we are abroad, we
may be able to make some comparisons,—to carry with us, when we look
upon the valleys of the Seine and the Rhine, some impression of our own
landscapes and our own rivers—some recollection of our own cathedrals,
when we stand by those of Milan and Rouen.

The New Forest is, perhaps, as good an example as could be wished of
what has been said of English scenery, and its connection with our
history. It remains after some eight hundred years still the New Forest.
True, its boundaries are smaller, but the main features are the same as
on the day when first afforested by the Conqueror. The names of its
woods and streams and plains are the same. It is almost the last, too,
of the old forests with which England was formerly so densely clothed.
Charnwood is now without its trees: Wychwood is enclosed: the great
Forest of Arden—Shakspeare’s Arden—is no more, and Sherwood is only
known by the fame of Robin Hood. But the New Forest still stands full of
old associations with, and memories of, the past. To the historian it
tells of the Forest Laws, and the death of one of the worst, and the
weakness of the most foolish, of English kings. To the ecclesiologist it
can show, close to it, the Priory Church of Christchurch, with all its
glories of Norman architecture, built by the Red King’s evil counsellor,
Flambard; and just outside, too, its boundaries, the Conventual Church
of Romsey, with its lovely Romanesque triforium, in whose nunnery Edith,
beloved by the English, their “good Maud,” “beatissima regina,” as the
Chroniclers love to call her, was educated.

At its feet lies Southampton, with its Late Norman arcaded town-wall,
and gates, and God’s House, with memories of Sir Bevis and his wife
Josyan the Brighte, and his horse Arundel—the port for the Roman
triremes, and afterwards for the galleys of Venice and Bayonne—where our
own Henry V. built

        “the grete dromons,
  The Trinité, the Grace-Dieu.”[1]

Within it, once in the very heart, stand the Abbot’s house and the
cloister walls of Beaulieu, the one abbey, with the exception of
Hales-Owen, in Shropshire, founded by John. It can point, too, to the
Roman camp at Buckland Rings, to the ruins of the Norman castle at
Christchurch, to Henry VIII.’s forts at Hurst and Calshot, built with
the stones of the ruined monastery of Beaulieu; can show, too, bosomed
amongst its trees, quiet village churches, most of them Norman and Early
English, old manor-houses, as at Ellingham, famous in story, grey
roadside crosses, sites of Roman potteries, and Keltic and West-Saxon
battlefields and barrows scattered over its plains.

For the ornithologist its woods, and rivers, and seaboard attract more
birds than most counties. For the geologist the Middle-Eocene beds are
always open in the Hordle and Barton Cliffs inlaid with shell and bone.
For the botanist and entomologist, its marshes, moors, and woodlands,
possess equal treasures.

But in its wild scenery lies its greatest charm. From every hill-top
gleam the blue waters of the English Channel, broken in the foreground
by the long line of the Isle of Wight downs and the white chalk walls of
the Needles. Nowhere, in extent at least, spread such stretches of heath
and moor, golden in the spring with the blaze of furze, and in the
autumn purple with heather, and bronzed with the fading fern. Nowhere in
England rise such oak-woods, their boughs rimed with the frostwork of
lichens, and dark beech-groves with their floor of red brown leaves, on
which the branches weave their own warp and woof of light and shade.

Especially to its scenery I would call attention. This, above all, I
wish to impress on the reader, seeing that beauty is one of the chief
ends and aims of nature: and that the ground beneath our feet is decked
with flowers, and the sky above our heads is painted, with a thousand
colours, to cheer man as he goes to his work in the morning, and to fill
his heart with thankfulness as he returns at evening.

Now, neither are scarcely ever seen. The flowers cannot grow in our
stony streets: the glory of the morning and evening is blotted out by
the fog of smoke which broods over our cities.

As the population grows, our commons and waste lands disappear. Our
large towns have swollen into provinces. Fashion sways the rich.
Necessity compels the poor to live in them. As our wealth increases, our
love for nature contracts. One, therefore, of the chief objects of this
book is to show how much quiet beauty and how much interest lie beside
our doors—to, point out to the reader who may be jaded by the toils of
Fashion or Labour where in England there are still some thirty miles of
moorland and woodland left uncultivated, over which he can wander as he
pleases.

And here, if this book should induce any readers to visit the Forest,
let me earnestly advise them to do so, as far as possible, on foot. I
see but this main difference between rich and poor—that the poor work to
get money, the rich spend money to get work. And I know no better way
for Englishmen to use their superfluous energies than in learning their
own country by walking over its best scenes.

I will only ask any one to make the experiment between walking and
driving over the same ground; and see how much he will learn by the one,
how much lose by the other method. In the one case, he simply hurries or
stops, at the discretion of some ignorant driver, who regards him of
less importance than his horses; in the other, he can pause to sketch
many a scene before invisible, can at his leisure search each heath or
quarry for flowers or fossils, can turn aside across the field-paths to
any village church, or wander through any wood which may invite him to
its solitude, and, above all, know the pleasure of being tired, and the
sweetness of rest in the noontide shade.

    [Illustration: The Entrance from Barrow’s Moor to Mark Ash.]




                              CHAPTER II.
                              ITS SCENERY.


    [Illustration: The Stream in the Queen’s Bower Wood.]

As I said in the last chapter, one of the main objects of this book is
to dwell upon the beauty of the Forest scenery. I chose the New Forest
as a subject, because, although in some points it may not be more
beautiful than many other parts of England—and I am glad to think so,—it
gives, more than any other place, a far greater range of subject, in
sea, and moor, and valley; because too, the traveller can here go where
he pleases, without any of those lets and hindrances which take away so
much pleasure; and, lastly, because here can best be seen Nature’s crown
of glory—her woods.

And, first, for a few words of general bearing upon this point. I do not
think we ever estimate the woods highly enough, ever know their real
worth, until we find some favourite retreat levelled to the ground, and
then feel the void and irreparable blankness which is left. Consider,
too, the purposes to which Nature turns her woods, either softening the
horrors of the precipice, or adorning spaces which else would be utterly
without interest, or adding beauty to beauty. Consider, further, how she
beguiles us when we are in them, leading us forward, each little rise
appearing a hill, because we cannot see its full extent; how, too, the
paths close behind us, shutting us out with their silent doorways from
all noise and turmoil, whilst the soft green light fills every dim
recess, and deepens each pillared aisle, the floor paved with the golden
mosaic of the sunlight.

Consider not only their beauty, but their use, breaking, for the plants,
the fall of winter showers, and storing for them, against summer’s
drought, their wealth of springs and streams—giving to the cattle shade
from the heat, and shelter from the storm. This for the plants and
beasts of the field,—but for man, binding together the sandy shore,
carrying off the fog and miasma from the marsh, raising the strongest
bulwark against the sea, and truest shield against the pestilence.

For all these things is it that the woods have been, since the beginning
of the world, the haunt of the flowers, the home of the birds, and the
temple of man. The haunt of the flowers, I say, for in the early spring,
before the grass is yet green in the meadows, here they all flock—white
wood-anemones, sweet primroses, sweeter violets, and hyacinths
encircling each stem with their blue wreaths. The home of the birds; for
when the leaves at last have come, each tree is filled with song, and
the underwood with the first faint chirping of the nestlings learning
their earliest notes. As a temple for man, have they not been so since
the world began? Taught by their tender beauty, and subdued by their
solemn gloom, the imaginative Greek well consecrated each grove and wood
to some Divinity. The early Christians fled to “the armour of the house
of the Forest,” to escape to peace and quietness. Here the old Gothic
builders first learnt how to rear their vaulted arches, and to wreathe
their pillars with stone arabesques of leaves and flowers, in faint
imitation of a beauty they might feel, but never reach.[2]

Consider, too, the loveliness of all tree-forms, from the birch and
weeping-willow, which never know the slightest formality, even when in
winter barest of leaves, to the oak with its sinewy boughs, strained and
tortured as they are in this very Forest, as nowhere else in England, by
the Channel winds.[3] Consider, too, Nature’s own love and tenderness
for her trees,—how, when they have grown old and are going to decay, she
clothes them with fresh beauty, hides their deformities with a soft
green veil of moss and the grey dyes of lichens, and, not even content
with this, makes them the support for still greater loveliness—drapes
them with masses of ivy, and hangs upon them the tresses of the
woodbine, loading them to the end of their days with sweetness and
beauty.

All this, and far more than this, you may see in the commonest woods
round Lyndhurst, in Sloden, in Mark Ash, or Bratley.

Then, too, there is that perpetual change which is ever going on, every
shower and gleam of sunshine tinting the trees with colour from the
tender tones of April and May, through the deep green of June, to the
russet-red of autumn. Each season ever joins in this sweet conspiracy to
oppress the woods with loveliness.

Taking, however, a more special view, and looking at the district
itself, we must remember that it is situated on the Middle-Eocene, and
presents some of the best features of the Tertiary formation. Its hills
may not be high, but they nowhere sink into tameness, whilst round
Fordingbridge, and Goreley, and Godshill, they resemble, in degree, with
their treeless, rounded forms, shaggy with heath and the rough sedge of
the fern, parts of the half-mountainous scenery near the Fifeshire
Lomonds.[4]

On the sea-coast near Milton, rise high gravel-capped cliffs, with a
basis of Barton clays, cleft by deep ravines, locally known as
“bunnies.” Inland, valleys open out, dipping between low hills, whilst
masses of beech and oak darken the plains. Here and there, marking the
swamps, gleam white patches of cotton-grass, whilst round them, on the
uplands, spread long, unbroken stretches of purple heather; and wide
spaces of fern, an English Brabant, studded with hollies and yews, some
of them as old as the Conquest. Here and there, too, as at Fritham,
small farmsteads show their scanty crops of corn, or, as at Alum Green
and Queen’s North, green lawns pierce and separate the woods, pastured
by herds of cattle, with forest pools white with buckbean, and the
little milkwort waving its blue heath on the banks.

These are the main characteristics of the New Forest, and, in some
points at least, were the same in the days of the Red King. Nature, when
left to herself, even in the course of centuries, changes little. The
wild boars, and the wolves, and the red deer, are gone. But much else is
the same. The sites and the names of the Forest manors and villages,
with slight alterations, remain unchanged. The same barrows still uplift
their rounded forms on the plains; the same banks, the same
entrenchments, near which, in turn, lived Kelt, and Roman and
Old-English, still run across the hills and valleys. The same churches
rear their towers, and the mills still stand by the same streams.

The peasants, too, still value the woods, as they did in the Conqueror’s
time, for the crop of mast and acorns,—still peel off the Forest turf,
and cure their bacon by its smoke.[5] The charcoal-burner still builds
the same round ovens as in the days of William the Red. Old-English
words, to be heard nowhere else, are daily spoken. The last of the old
Forest law-courts is held every forty days at Lyndhurst. The
bee-master—_beoceorl_—still tends his hives, and brews the Old-English
mead, and lives by the labours of his bees. The honey-buzzard still
makes her nest in the beeches round Lyndhurst, and the hen-harrier on
the moors near Bratley.

I suppose this is what strikes most persons when they first come into
the New Forest,—a sense that amidst all the change which is going
forward, here is one place which is little altered. This is what gives
it its greatest charm,—the beauty of wildness and desolateness, broken
by glimpses of cultivated fields, and the smoke of unseen homesteads
among the woods.

Yet the feeling is not quite true. Like every other place in England, it
has suffered some change, and moved with the times. Instead of the twang
of the archer’s bow, the sunset gun at Portsmouth sounds every evening.
The South-Western Railway runs through the heart of it; and in place of
the curfew’s knell, the steam whistle shrieks through its woods.

We do not see the Forest of our forefathers. Go back eight centuries,
and look at the sights which the Normans must have beheld,—dense
underwoods of hollies on which the red deer browsed; masses of beech and
chestnut, the haunts of the wolf and the boar; plains over which flocks
of bustards half-ran, half-flew; swamps where the crane in the sedge
laid its buff and crimson-streaked eggs; whilst above grey-headed kites
swam in circles; and round the coast the sea-eagle slowly flapped its
heavy bulk. Great oaks, shorn flat by the Channel winds, fringed the
high Hordle cliffs, towering above the sea; and opposite, as to this
day, rose the white chalk rocks of the Needles, and the Isle of Wight,
where at Watchingwell stretched another forest of the King’s. And the
sun would set as it now does, but upon all this further beauty, making a
broad path of glory across the bay, till at last it sank down over the
Priory Church of Christchurch, which Flambard was then building.

Gone, too, for ever all the scenes which they must have had of the Avon,
glimpses of it caught among the trees as they galloped through the broad
lawns, or under the sides of Godshill, and Castle Hill crested with yews
and oaks.[6]

These may all be gone, but plenty of beauty is still left. The Avon
still flows on with its floating gardens of flowers—lilies and
arrowhead, and the loosestrife waving its crimson plumes among the green
reeds. The Forest streams, too, still flow on the same, losing
themselves in the woods, eddying round and round in the deep, dark,
prison-pools of their own making, and then escaping over shallows and
ledges of rolled pebbles, left dry in the summer, and on which the
sunlight rests, and the shadows of the beeches play, but in the winter
chafed by the torrent.

Across its broad expanse of moors the sun still sets the same in summer
time—into some deep bank of clouds in the west, and as it plunges down,
flashes of light run along their edges, and each thin band of vapour
becomes a bar of fire, and the far-away Purbeck hills gleam with purple
and amethyst.

The same sea, too, still heaves and tosses beneath the Hordle and Barton
Cliffs, with the same dark patches, shadows of clouds, sailing over it,
as its waves, along the shore, unroll their long scrolls of foam.

These great natural facts have not changed. Kelt and Roman have gone,
but these are the same.

Nor must I forget the extraordinary lovely atmospheric effects, noticed
also by Gilpin,[7] as seen, under certain conditions, from the Barton
Cliffs on the Isle of Wight and the Needles. Far out at sea will rise a
low white fog-bank gradually stealing to the land, enveloping some stray
ship in its folds, and then by degrees encircling the Island, whilst the
chalk cliffs melt into clouds. On it still steals with its thick mist,
quenching the Needles Light which has been lit, till the whole island is
capped with fog, and neither sea nor sky is seen,—nothing but a dense
haze blotting everything. Then suddenly the wind lifts the great cloud
westward, and its black curtains drop away, revealing a sky of the
deepest blue, barred with lines of light: and the whole bay suddenly
shines out clear and glittering, the Island cliffs flashing with opal
and emerald, and the ship once more glides out safe from the darkness.

A few words, too, must be said about the two principal tree-forms which
now make the Forest. The oaks here do not grow so high or so large as in
many other parts of England, but they are far finer in their outlines,
hanging in the distance as if rather suspended in the air than growing
from the earth, but nearer, as especially at Bramble Hill, twisting
their long arms, and interlacing each other into a thick roof. Now and
then they take to straggling ways, running out, as with the famous
Knyghtwood Oak, into mere awkward forks. The most striking are not,
perhaps, so much those in their prime, as the old ruined trees at
Boldrewood, their bark furrowed with age, their timber quite decayed,
now only braced together by the clamps of ivy to which they once gave
support and strength.[8]

The beeches are even finer, and more characteristic, though here and
there a tree sometimes resembles the oaks, as if with long living
amongst them, it had learnt to grow like them. The finest beech-wood is
that of Mark Ash. There you may see true beech-forms, the boles spangled
with silver scales of lichen, and the roots—more fangs than
roots—grasping the earth, feathered with the soft green down of moss.

But not in individual trees lies the beauty of the Forest, but in the
masses of wood. There, in the long aisles, settles that depth of shade
which no pencil can give, and that colouring which no canvas can retain,
as the sunlight pierces through the green web of leaves, flinging, as it
sets, a crown of gold round each tree-trunk.

Let no one, however, think they know anything of the Forest by simply
keeping to the high road and the beaten tracks. They must go into it,
across the fern and the heather, and, if necessary, over the swamps,
into such old woods as Barrow’s Moor, Mark Ash, Bushey Bratley, and
Oakley, wandering at their own will among the trees. The best advice
which I can give to see the Forest is to follow the course of one of its
streams, to make it your friend and companion, and go wherever it goes.
It will be sure to take you through the greenest valleys, and past the
thickest woods, and under the largest trees. No step along with it is
ever lost, for it never goes out of its way but in search of some fresh
beauty.

We see plenty of pictures in our Exhibitions from Burnham Beeches or
Epping Forest, but in the New Forest the artist will find not only
woodland, but sea, and moorland, and river views. There are, as I have
said, when taken in details, more beautiful spots in England, but none
so characteristic. Finer trees, wilder moors, higher hills, more
swiftly-flowing brooks, may be found, but nowhere that quietness so
typical of English scenery, yet mixed with wildness, nowhere so much
combined in one.

I say, too, this, strange as it may doubtless appear, that Government,
whenever it fells any timber, should spare some of the finest trees for
the sake of their beauty, and for the delight they will give to future
generations. Cut down, and sawn into planks, they are worth but so many
pounds. Standing, their value is inappreciable. We have Government
Schools of Design, and Government Picture Galleries, but they are
useless without Nature to assist the student. Government, by keeping
here some few old trees, will do more to foster true Art than all the
grants of Parliament. The old thorns of Bratley, the beeches of Mark
Ash, and the yews of Sloden, will teach more than all the schools and
galleries in the world. As we have laws to preserve our partridges and
pheasants, surely we might have some to protect our trees and our
landscapes.

Lastly, from its very nature, the New Forest is ever beautiful, at every
season of the year, even in the depth of winter. The colouring of summer
is not more rich. Then the great masses of holly glisten with their
brightest green; the purple light gathers round the bare oaks, and the
yews stand out in their shrouds of black. Then the first budding branch
of furze sparkles with gold, and the distant hill-side glows with the
red layers of beech-leaves. And if a snow-storm passes up from the sea,
then every bough is suddenly covered with a silver filigree of whitest
moss.

This joyful tyranny of beauty is ever present, at all times and hours,
changeful in form, but the same in essence. Year after year, day after
day, it appears.

I know, however, it is impossible to make people see this beauty, which,
after all, exists only in each beholder’s mind. No two people see the
same thing, and no person ever sees it twice. But, I believe, we may all
gain some idea of the glory which each season brings—some glimpses of
the heaven of beauty which ever surrounds us—if we will seek for them
patiently and reverently. They cannot with some be learnt at once, but,
in degrees, are attainable by all; but they are attainable only upon
this one condition,—that we go to Nature with a docile, loving spirit,
without which nothing can be learnt. If we go with any other feeling, we
had much better stay in a town amidst the congenial smoke, than profane
Nature with the pride of ignorance and the insolence of condescension.

    [Illustration: The Charcoal Burner’s Path, Winding Shoot.]




                              CHAPTER III.
                           ITS EARLY HISTORY.


    [Illustration: The Cattle Ford, Liney Hill Wood.]

Once the New Forest occupied nearly the entire south-west angle of
Hampshire, stretching, when at its largest, in the beginning of the
reign of Edward I., from the Southampton Water on the east, whose waves,
the legend says, reproved the courtiers of Canute, to the Avon, and
even, here and there, across it, on the west; and on the north from the
borders of Wiltshire to the English Channel.

These natural boundaries were, as we shall see, reduced in that same
reign. Since then encroachments on all sides have still further lessened
its limits; and it now stretches, here and there divided by manors and
private property, on the north from the village of Bramshaw, beyond
Stoney Cross, near where Rufus fell, or was supposed to fall, to Wootton
on the south, some thirteen miles; and, still further, from Hardley on
the east to Ringwood, the Rinwede of _Domesday_, on the west.

In the year 1079, just thirteen years after the battle of Hastings,
William ordered its afforestation. From Turner and Lingard down to the
latest compiler, our historians have represented the act as one of the
worst pieces of cruelty ever committed by an English sovereign. Even
Lappenberg calls the site of the Forest “the most thriving part of
England,” and says that William “mercilessly caused churches and
villages to be burnt down within its circuit;”[9] and, in another place,
speaks of the Conqueror’s “bloody sacrifice,” and “glaring cruelty
towards the numerous inhabitants.”[10] To such statements in ordinary
writers we should pay no attention, but they assume a very different
aspect when put forward, especially in so unqualified a way, by a
historian to whom our respect and attention are due. I have no wish to
defend the character of William. He was one of those men whose wills are
strong enough to execute the thoughts of their minds, ordained by
necessity to rule others, holding firmly to the creed that success is
the best apology for crime. Yet, too, he had noble qualities. Abroad he
was feared by the bad, whilst at home such order prevailed throughout
England, that a man might travel in safety “with his bosom full of gold”
from one end to the other.[11]

What I do here protest against is the common practice of implicitly
believing every tradition, of repeating every idle story which has been
foisted into the text either by credulity or rancorous hatred—of, in
fact, mistaking party feeling for history. The Chroniclers had every
reason to malign William. His very position was enough. He had pressed
with a heavy hand on the Old-English nobles, stripped them of their
lands, their civil power, and their religious honours; and failing to
learn, had, like a second Attila, tried to uproot their language.

The truth is, we are so swayed by our feelings that the most
dispassionate writer is involuntarily biassed. We in fact pervert truth
without knowing we do so. Language, by its very nature, betrays us. No
historian, with the least vividness of style, can copy from another
without exaggeration. The misplacement of a single word, the insertion
of a single epithet, gives a different colour and tone. And, in this
very matter of the New Forest, we need only take the various accounts,
as they have come down, to find in them the evidences of their own
untruth.[12]

I do not here enter into the question of William’s right to make the
Forest—about this there can be no doubt—but simply into the methods
which he employed in its formation.[13] The earliest Chronicler of the
event, Gulielmus Gemeticensis, who has been so often quoted in evidence
of William’s cruelty, both because he was a Norman, and chaplain to the
King, really proves nothing. In the first place, the monk of Jumièges
did not write this account, but some successor, so that the argument
drawn from the writer’s position falls to the ground.[14] In the second
place, his successor’s words are—“Many, however, say (_ferunt autem
multi_) that the deaths of Rufus and his brother were a judgment from
heaven, because their father had destroyed many villages and churches in
enlarging (_amplificandam_) the New Forest.”[15] The writer offers no
comment of his own, and simply passes over the matter, as not worth even
refutation. His narrative, however, if it tells at all, tells against
the common theory, as he states that William only extended the limits of
a former chase.

The account of Florence of Worcester is, on the whole, equally
unsatisfactory. His mention of the New Forest, like that, by the way, of
most of the Chroniclers, does not occur in its proper place at the date
it was made—when the wrong, we should have thought, must have been most
felt—but is suggested by the death of Rufus, when popular superstition
had come into play, and time had lent all the force of exaggeration to
what must always have been an unpopular event. Florence,[16] however,
speaks in general terms of men driven from their homes, of fields laid
waste, and houses and churches destroyed: words which, as we shall see,
carry their own contradiction. Vitalis,[17] too, not only declares that
the district was thickly inhabited, but that it even regularly supplied
the markets of Winchester, and that William laid in ruins no less than
sixty parishes. Walter Mapes,[18] who flourished about the middle of the
twelfth century, adds further that thirty-six mother churches were
destroyed, but falls into the error of making Rufus the author of the
Forest, which of course materially affects his evidence.

Knyghton,[19] however, who lived in the reign of Richard II., is
doubtful whether the number of churches destroyed was twenty-two or
fifty-two, an amount of difference so large that we might also
reasonably suspect his narrative, whilst he also commits the mistake of
attributing the formation of the Forest to Rufus.

Now, the first thing which strikes us is that as the writers are more
distant in point of time, and therefore less capable of knowing, they
singularly enough become more precise and specific. What Florence of
Worcester speaks of in merely general terms, Vitalis, and Walter Mapes,
and Knyghton, give in minute details down to the very number of the
parishes and churches.[20]

As far as mere written testimony goes, we have nothing to set against
their evidence, except _Domesday_, and the negative proof of _The
Chronicle_. Not one word does The Chronicler, who, be it remembered,
personally knew the Conqueror[21]—who has related each minute event of
his reign, exposed each shortcoming, and branded each crime—say of the
cruelty of the afforestation. Evidence like this, coming from such an
authority, is in the highest degree important. The silence is most
suggestive. It is impossible to believe, that so faithful an historian,
had it been committed, should never have hinted at the devastation of so
much property, and the double crime of cruelty and profanity in
destroying alike the inhabitants and their churches.

But the briefest analysis of _Domesday_, and a comparison of its
contents with those of the survey made in Edward the Confessor’s reign,
will more clearly show the nature and extent of the afforestation than
any of the Chroniclers. From it we find that about two-thirds of the
district, including some thirty manors, was entirely afforested. But it
by no means carries out the account that the villages were destroyed and
the inhabitants banished, or, according to others, murdered. In some
cases, as on Eling manor, it is noted that the houses are still standing
and the inmates living in the King’s Forest. Further, we find that some
of the manors, as at Hordle and Bashley, though considerably lessened,
kept up their value. Others, as at Efford, actually doubled their former
assessments. Still more remarkable, some again, as at Brockenhurst,
Sway, and Eling, though reduced in size, increased one-third and
two-thirds in value. One explanation can alone be given to such
facts—that only the waste lands were enclosed, and the cultivated
spared.

That this was the case we know for certain, for it is expressly stated
that, in some instances, as at Walhampton, Lymington, and Rockford; only
the woods are afforested, that in many more the pastures are exempted,
as at Wootton, Batramsley, Oxley, Ossumley, Pilley, Boldreford, Vicar’s
Hill, Yaldhurst, Boldre, and numerous other places.[22] The manor of
Totton, though close to the Forest, was not touched, although all the
neighbouring estates were in various degrees afforested, simply because
it consisted of only pasture and plough-land, whose value had increased
no less than one-fourth. Nothing, therefore, can be more conclusive than
that the Conqueror did not mercilessly make a total wilderness of the
district, but, not without some consideration, chose and took only those
parts which were suitable for the purposes of the chase.

In the woods which were afforested people were allowed to live;[23]
though, probably, they voluntarily left them, as labour could not there
be so well obtained as in the unafforested parts.[24] In all other
respects there seems to have been no disarrangement. Both on the
outskirts and in the heart of the Forest, the villains and borderers
still worked as before, carrying on their former occupations.[25] The
mills at Bashley, and Milford, and Burgate, all in the Forest, went on
the same. The fisheries at Holdenhurst and Dibden were undisturbed. The
salterns at Eling and Hordle still continued at work, showing that the
people still, as before, sowed and reaped their corn, and pastured and
killed their cattle.

Again, in other ways, _Domesday_ still more clearly contradicts the
Chroniclers, as to the inhabitants being driven out of their homes.
Canterton was held by Chenna of Edward, and still in _Domesday_, in
part, remains in his possession. Ulviet, the huntsman, who had rented
Ripley manor under Edward, still rents the unafforested portion. His
son, Cola, also a huntsman, holds, as his sub-tenant, land at Langley,
which he had rented of Edward; whilst his other son, Alwin, holds land
at Marchwood, which, also, he had rented. Saulf, a West-Saxon thane, who
had held land at Durley of Edward, now holds it at Batramsley, and his
wife at Hubborn, which he had also rented of Edward.[26]

Ulgar, a West-Saxon, holds the fourth of a hyde at Milford, just as he
had held it of Edward; with this difference, that it was now assessed at
three-fourths of a rood, on account of the loss sustained by the woods
being taken into the Forest. The sons of Godric Malf, another West-Saxon
thane, hold the same lands which their father had held of Edward, at
Ashley and Crow, as also the manors of Bisterne and Minstead, these last
being rated considerably less than their real values, on account of the
afforestations, and what we should now call severance. The West-Saxon
Aluric rents property at Oxley, Efford, and Brockenhurst, which his
father and uncle rented under Edward, and not only receives lands at
Milford in exchange for some taken into the Forest, but actually buys
estates at Whitefields from other West-Saxons.[27]

Such facts must be stronger than any mere history compiled by writers
who were not only not near the spot, but the majority of whom lived a
long time after the events they venture so minutely to describe.

But we have not yet exhausted the valuable evidence of _Domesday_. The
land in the Forest district is rented at much less than in other parts
of Hampshire, showing that it was therefore poorer, and not only the
land, but the mills. Further—and this is of great importance, as so
thoroughly overthrowing the common account—we find in that portion of
the survey which comes under the title, “In Novâ Forestâ et circa eam,”
only two churches mentioned, one at Milford, and another at
Brockenhurst, in the very heart of the Forest. Both stand to this hour,
and prove plainly by their Norman work that William allowed them to
remain.

Such is the evidence which _The Chronicle_ and the short examination of
_Domesday_ yield. The country itself, however, still more plainly proves
the bias of the Chroniclers. The slightest acquaintance with geology
will show that the Forest was never fertile, as it must have been to
have maintained the population which filled so many churches.[28] Nearly
the whole of it is covered with sand, or capped with a thick bed of
drift, with a surface-soil only a few inches deep, capable of naturally
bearing little, except in a few places, besides heath and furze. On a
geological map we can pretty accurately trace the limits of the Forest
by the formation. Of course, in so large a space, there will be some
spots, and some valleys, where the streams have left a richer glebe and
a deeper tilth.[29]

But the Chroniclers, by their very exaggeration, have defeated their own
purpose. There is in their narration an inconsistency, which, as we
dwell upon it, becomes more apparent. We would simply ask, where are the
ruins of any of the thirty or fifty churches, and the towns of the
people who filled them? Why, too, did not the Chroniclers mention them
specifically? Why, further, if William pulled down all the churches, are
the only two, at Brockenhurst and Milford, recorded in _Domesday_,[30]
still standing with their contemporary workmanship? Why, too, is Fawley
church, with its Norman doorway, and pillars, and arches, formerly, as
we know from another portion of _Domesday_, in the Forest, remaining, if
all were destroyed? And why, last of all, if the inhabitants were
exterminated, was a church built at Boldre, in the very wildest part of
the Forest, immediately after the afforestation, and another at
Hordle?[31]

Had there been any buildings destroyed, all ruins of them would not have
been quite effaced, even in the course of eight centuries. The country
has been undisturbed. Nature has not here, as in so many places, helped
man in his work of destruction. They cannot, we know, have been built
on, or ploughed over, or silted with sand, or choked with mud, or washed
away by water. The slightest artificial bank, though ever so old, can be
here instantly detected. The Keltic and West-Saxon barrows still remain.
The sites of the dwellings of the Britons are still plainly visible. The
Roman potteries are untouched, and their vessels and cups, though lying
but a few inches under the ground, unbroken. We can only very fairly
conclude that, had there been houses, or villages, or churches
destroyed, all traces of them would not be gone, nor entirely lost in
the preserving record of local names.

It has, I am aware, been urged that since the Old-English churches were
chiefly built of wood, we are not likely to find any ruins. This may be
so. But by no process of reasoning can the absence of a thing prove its
former presence. Nor need we pay any attention to the argument drawn
from such names as Castle Malwood, The Castle near Burley, Castle Hill
on the banks of the Avon, Lucas Castle, and Broomy and Thompson Castles
in Ashley Walk. These Castles are of the air—mere names, invented, as in
other parts of England, by the popular mind. At Castle Malwood there is
the simple trench of a camp, and recent excavations there showed no
traces of buildings; whilst the Castle at Burley, and Castle Hill, and
the others, were merely earthen fortifications and entrenchments, made
by the Kelts and West-Saxons. Nor must we be led away by the few Forest
names ending in _ton_, the Old-English _tún_, which, after all, means
more often only a few scattered homesteads than even a village, still
less a town or city, in the modern sense of the word.[32]

If, however, we look at the district from another point of view, we
shall find further evidence against the Chroniclers. It was a part of
the Natan Leaga[33]—a name still preserved in the various Netleys,
Nateleys, and Nutleys, which remain—the Ytene of the British, that is,
the furzy district, a title eminently characteristic of the soil.[34]
Again, too, the villages and manors, such as Lyndhurst, Brockenhurst,
Ashurst, and half a dozen more hursts, point to the woody nature of the
place. Such names, also, as Roydon, the rough ground; Bramshaw, the
bramble wood; Denny, the furzy ground; Wootton, the Odetune of
_Domesday_; Stockeyford and Stockleigh, the woody place; Ashley, the ash
ground;[35] besides Staneswood, Arnwood, and Testwood, all more or less
afforested in _Domesday_, clearly show its character.

After all, the best evidence is not from such arguments, but in the
simple fact that the New Forest remains still the New Forest. Had the
land been in any way profitable, modern skill, and capital, and
enterprise, would have certainly been attracted. But its charms lie not,
and never did, in the richness of its soil, but in its deep woods and
wild moors.[36]

Our view of the matter, then, is that William, like all Normans, loving
the chase—loving, too, the red deer, as the Old-English Chronicler, with
a sneer, remarks, as if he was their own father—converted what was
before a half-wooded tract, a great part of which he held in demesne,
inherited by right of being king, into a Royal Forest, giving it the
name of the New Forest, in contradistinction to its former title of
Ytene. To have laid waste a highly-cultivated district for the purposes
of the chase, as the Chroniclers wish us to believe, would have defeated
his chief object, as there would have been no shelter then, nor for many
years to come, for the deer: and is contradicted, as we have seen, both
by _Domesday_, by the very nature of the soil, and the names of the
places.

The real truth is, that the stories, which fill our histories, of
William devastating the country, burning the houses, murdering the
people, have arisen from a totally wrong conception of an ancient
forest. Until this confusion of an old forest with our modern ideas is
removed, we can have no clear notions on the subject. We must remember
that an ancient forest did not simply mean a space thickly covered with
trees, but also wild open ground, with lawns and glades. Its derivation
points out to what sort of places it was originally applied.[37] The
word _hurst_, too, which, as we have seen, is so common a termination
throughout the district, means a wood which produces fodder for cattle,
answering to the Old High-German _spreidach_.[38] The old forests
possessed, if not a large, some scattered population. For them a special
code of laws was made, or rather gradually developed itself. Canute
himself appointed various officers—Primarii, our Verderers; Lespegend,
our Regarders; and Tinemen, our Keepers. The offences of hunting,
wounding, or killing a deer, striking a verderer or regarder, cutting
vert, are all minutely specified in his Forest Law, and punished,
according to rank and other circumstances, with different degrees of
severity.[39] The Court of Swanimote was, in a sense, counterpart to the
Courts of Folkemote and Portemote in towns. A forest was, in fact, a
kingdom within a kingdom, with certain, well-defined laws, suited to its
requirements, and differing from the common law of the land. The
inhabitants had regular occupations, enjoyed, too, rights of pasturing
cattle, feeding swine, and cutting timber.[40] All this, as we have
seen, went on as before, not so much, but still the same, in the New
Forest. Manors, too, with the exception of being subject to Forest Law,
remained in the heart of it unmolested. According to the Chroniclers
themselves, some rustics living on the spot convey, with a horse and
cart, the bleeding body of Rufus to Winchester. According to them[41]
also the King, previous to his death, must have feasted, with his
retinue of servants, and huntsmen, and priests, and guests, somewhere in
the Forest, implying means in the neighbourhood to furnish, if not the
luxuries, the necessities of life. In _Domesday_ we find, too, a keeper
of the king’s house holding the mill at Efford; also implying, at least,
in a very different part of the Forest, a neighbourhood which could not
have been quite destitute and deserted.[42] At a later period, when the
Forest Laws had reached their climax of oppression, persons in the
Forest, as we learn from Blount and the Testa de Nevill, hold their
lands at Lyndhurst and Eyeworth,[43] by finding provisions for the king
and fodder for his horse. But more than all, _Domesday_, corroborated as
it is by the physical characteristics of the country, by the evidence,
too, of local names, by the Norman doorways, and pillars and arches at
Fawley, and Brockenhurst and Milford, proves most distinctly—and most
distinctly because so circumstantially—that the district was neither
devastated, nor the houses burnt, nor the churches destroyed, nor the
people murdered.

Some wrong, though, was doubtless committed: some hardships undergone.
Lands, however useless, cannot be afforested without the feelings of the
neighbourhood being outraged. And the story, gathering strength in
proportion as the Conqueror and his son William the Red were hated by
the conquered, at last assumed the tragical form which the Chroniclers
have handed down to us, and modern historians repeated.

William’s cruelty, however, lay not certainly in afforesting the
district: it consisted rather in the systematic way in which he strove
to reduce the English into abject slavery; in the fresh tortures with
which he loaded the Danish Forest Laws; and in making it far better to
kill a man than a deer. For these exactions was it that his family paid
the penalty of their lives; and the retribution befel them there, where
the superstitious West-Saxon would, above all others, have marked out as
the spot fitted for their deaths.

    [Illustration: View in Gibb’s Hill Wood.]




                              CHAPTER IV.
                           ITS LATER HISTORY.


    [Illustration: The Millaford Brook. Haliday’s Hill Wood.]

We need not dwell so long upon this as the former portion of the
History, for in many cases it is nothing but a bare recital of
perambulations and Acts of Parliament. The true history of a forest is
rather an account of its trees and its flowers and birds, than an
historical narrative. Yet even here there are some important facts
connected with the nation’s life, and illustrating the character of its
kings.

We meet with no perambulation of the New Forest until the eighth year of
Edward I.—the second ever made of an English forest—and, by comparing it
with _Domesday_, we may see how, since the Conqueror’s time, the Forest
had gradually taken the natural limits of the country—the Avon and the
Southampton Water bounding it on the east and west, and the sea on the
south, and the chalk of Wiltshire on the north.[44]

The next perambulation in the twenty-ninth year of the same reign is
more noticeable,[45] as it disafforests so much. It is the same
perambulation which we find made in the twenty-second year of Charles
II., and nominally the same which is followed to this day.

To understand the cause of the difference in these perambulations, we
must, in fact, thoroughly understand the great movements which had been
going on during the previous years, and the increasing power of the
nobles and the people. From Henry III. had been wrung the Charta de
Forestâ, the terms of which had been settled before John’s death. Still,
little, or scarcely anything, was put into practical effect. In 1297,
however, the Earls of Hereford and Norfolk not only refused to accompany
Edward I. to Flanders, but, upon their suspension from their offices,
issued a proclamation, complaining that the two Charters of the
liberties of the people were not observed. On the 10th of October, a
Parliament was assembled, and his son passed the “Confirmatio Cartarum,”
to which Edward, now at Ghent, assented. Still the two earls, from
various causes, were not satisfied; and in 1298 demanded that the
perambulations of the different Forests should be made. In consequence,
during the summer of the next year, the King issued writs to the
sheriffs, promising that the commissioners should meet about Michaelmas
at Northampton.[46]

This was done: and the perambulation of the New Forest was carried out
in strict accordance with the provisions of the Charta de Forestâ, for
the jurors who were employed expressly state that the bounds which they
have determined were those of the Forest before the reign of Henry II.;
and that all those places mentioned in the perambulation of 1279 and now
omitted, were afforested by his successors, though they cannot say to
what extent or by whom.[47] Most probably it had been reserved for John
to show here, as in other cases, to what absolute madness selfishness
will carry a man.

After this, nothing, with one exception, of any general importance
occurs.[48] Having in his prosperity incurred all the odium of
attempting to revive the hated Forest Laws, in his adversity Charles I.
granted as security the New Forest, and Sherwood, and other Crown lands
to his creditors.[49] He had still learnt no lesson from the Ship-money,
and would have pawned England itself, rather than yield to that
obstinacy, which was but the other side of his weakness of character.

With the decline of hawking and hunting, the Forest Laws fell into
decay, and the Forests themselves were less regarded, and their
boundaries less strictly observed. Under the Stuarts, we find the first
traces of that system, which at last resulted in the almost entire
devastation of the New Forest. James I. granted no less than twenty
assart lands—_agri ex-sariti_—there having been previously only
three;[50] and gave the privilege of windfalls to various persons;[51]
whilst officers actually applied to him for trees in lieu of pay for
their troops:[52] and Charles II. bestowed the young woods of
Brockenhurst to the maids of honour of his court.[53]

Manwood, who wrote towards the end of Elizabeth’s reign, had, long
before this, predicted what must happen, and the straits to which the
English navy, as we know was the case, would be reduced. In Charles I.’s
time the Forests were in a shameful condition. The keepers were in
arrears of wages, and paid themselves out of the timber.[54] The
consequences soon came. There was nothing left but wind-shaken and
decayed trees in the New Forest, quite unfit for building ships.[55]
Charles II., however, in 1669, probably influenced by Evelyn’s _Silva_,
which appeared four years before, and had given a great impulse,
throughout England, to planting, enclosed three hundred acres as a
nursery for young oaks. But the waste and devastation still continued.
At last, William III. legislated on the subject, for, to use the words
of the Act, “the Forest was in danger of being destroyed;”[56] and power
was given to plant six thousand acres. In 1703 came the great hurricane,
which Evelyn so deplores, uprooting some four thousand of the best oaks.

Nothing was done towards planting during the reigns of Anne and George
I.;[57] and Phillipson’s and Pitt’s plantations in 1755 and 1756 are the
next, but they have never thrived, owing to the land not having been
drained, and the trees not having been thinned out at the proper time.

In 1789 a Commission was appointed, and revealed a terrible state of
things. William’s provisions had not only been set aside, but defied.
Cattle were turned out, the furze and heath cut, and the marl dug by
those who had no privileges. The Forest was, in fact, robbed under every
pretext. The deer, from being overstocked, died in the winter by
hundreds from starvation. On every side, too, encroachments were made by
those whose business it was to prevent them. The rabbits destroyed the
young timber, whilst the old was stolen.[58]

In 1800 there was fresh legislation,[59] but it does not seem to have
taken much effect; though, in 1808, a new system of planting upon a
definite plan was introduced.

In 1848 another Commission was appointed, and showed that the old abuses
still lingered, that depredations were still committed, and
encroachments still made.[60] Law was at last restored. A great number
of the claims were disallowed, and the rights of the commoners defined.
So many head of cattle may now be turned out, by those who have Forest
rights, through the year, except during the fence-month, which lasts
from the 20th of June to the 20th of July, and the winter-hayning, from
the 22nd of November to the 4th of May. Pigs, too, upon a nominal
payment, may also be turned out for the mast and acorns during the
pannage-month, lasting from September the 25th to the 22nd of November,
by those who have a right to common of pannage; whilst any person can,
by applying to the woodmen, buy wood for fuel.

Lastly, in 1851, the deer, the cause of so much ill-feeling and crime,
were abolished, and the Crown thereby acquired the right of planting
10,000 additional acres.[61] These changes have already effected much
good both for the district and the inhabitants. The enclosures are now
systematically drained; and the Foresters find, in the works which are
being carried forward, regular employment throughout the year.[62] A
large nursery has been formed at Rhinefield, and somewhere about 700
acres are annually planted, the young oaks being set between Scotch
firs, which serve both as “nurses” to draw them up, and a screen to
shelter them from the winds. Experiments, too, are being made to
acclimatize several new trees, but it is premature to judge with what
success.

Further, I need scarcely add that all sorts of schemes, from the day
when Defoe proposed to colonize the district with the Palatine refugees
from the Rhine to the present, have been suggested for reclaiming the
Forest. None have ever, from the nature of the soil, been found to
answer; and the present condition is certainly, for many reasons, the
best. The time will some day arrive when, as England becomes more and
more overcrowded,—as each heath and common are swallowed up,—the New
Forest will be as much a necessity to the country as the parks are now
to London. We talk about the duty of reclaiming waste lands, and making
corn spring up where none before grew. But it is often as much a duty to
leave them alone. Land has higher and nobler offices to perform than to
support houses or grow corn—to nourish not so much the body as the mind
of man, to gladden the eye with its loveliness, and to brace his soul
with that strength which is alone to be gained in the solitude of the
moors and the woods.

    [Illustration: The Woodcutter’s Track, between Mark Ash and Winding
    Shoot.]




                               CHAPTER V.
            CALSHOT CASTLE AND THE OLD SOUTH-EASTERN COAST.


    [Illustration: Calshot Castle]

This corner of the Forest, once perhaps the most beautiful, is now the
least known, because, to most people, so inaccessible. It lies quite by
itself. No railway yet disfigures its fields and dells. The best way to
see it and the whole Forest is to cross the ferry at Southampton, and
land at the hard at Hythe. And as we cross, behind us, amongst a clump
of trees, rises the ruined west end of Netley Abbey Church, and the
modern tower on Henry VIII.’s Fort; whilst, lower down, the new
Government Hospital loads the shore with all its costly ugliness. If we
have not, perhaps, yet reached the height of Continental profanity which
has turned the Convent of Cordova into barracks, and St. Bernard’s
Monastery at Clairvaux into a prison, and the Church of Cluny into
racing stables, we yet seem to delight to place side by side with the
noblest conceptions that ever rose in beauty from English ground, our
modern abortions. There is not a cathedral town whose minster-square is
not disgraced by some pretentious shed. And now Government not only
invades the country, but chooses above all, the better to display our
folly, that place which the old Cistercian monks had for ever made
sacred by the loveliness of faith and work.

Hythe is only a little village, but as its name shows, once the port of
the New Forest.[63] The Forest, however, has now receded from it, and in
this chapter we shall see nothing of its woods. The district, however,
is too important in a historical point of view to be omitted. The walk,
even though it is not over wild moors and commons, is still very
beautiful. True English lanes will lead us by quiet dells, with glimpses
here and there through hedgerow elms of the blue Southampton water, down
to the shore of the Solent.

So, leaving Hythe[64] and going southward, skirting Cadlands Park, we
reach Fawley, the Falalie and Falegia of _Domesday_, where Walkelin,
Bishop of Winchester, held in demesne, as Abbey land, one hyde and three
yardlands. The whole of the manor was thrown into the Forest, but in its
place now are ploughed fields and grass pastures. The church, with its
central tower, stands at the entrance of the village, and its handsome
Romanesque doorway shows plainly that the Conqueror did not destroy
every place of worship. The building was partially restored in 1844, but
the pillars on the north side of the chancel were copied from the
original Norman work, which, with the three piscinas and the hagioscope,
give it a further interest to the ecclesiologist.

After Fawley, the walk becomes more beautiful. We pass deep lanes and
scattered cottages set in their trim gardens, when suddenly on the shore
rises the round gray castle of Calshot, standing at the very end of a
bar of sand, separating the Southampton water from the Solent. Though
much repaired, it stands not much altered from Henry VIII.’s original
blockhouse. Once of great importance, its garrison now consists of only
the coastguard and a master-gunner. Its walls are still strong,
measuring in the lower embrasures sixteen feet through, but the upper
storeys are much slighter. On the west side is cut the date 1513, whilst
some stone cannon balls of the Commonwealth period show the importance
Cromwell attached to the place. But the stronger fortifications of
Hurst, and the new batteries in the Isle of Wight, have done away with
its necessity, and it stands now only as a monument of Tudor patriotism
and of Cromwell’s care.[65]

But the place has older associations than these. In _The Chronicle_ and
_Florence of Worcester_ we read[66] that, in 495, Cerdic and his son
Cynric arrived with five ships, and landed at Cerdices-ora, and on the
same day defeated the natives. No site has given rise to so much
discussion as this Cerdices-ora. Mr. Thorpe in one place says it is not
known, whilst in another, by an evident oversight, he fixes upon
Charford.[67] Dr. Guest places it at the mouth of the river Itchen,[68]
whilst Mr. Pearson and others have identified it with Yarmouth.[69] Now,
I think there can be little doubt, looking both at the etymology of the
name and the situation, that Calshot is the true place. The land here
runs out into the sea with no less than ten fathoms of water close to
it, so that large vessels can to this day lie alongside the Castle. It
is the first part, too, of the mainland which can be reached, and on its
north side offers a safe anchorage. Besides, about four miles off stand
some barrows, which, though we may not be able to identify them as
covering those slain in the first battle which the West-Saxons fought,
offer some presumption in favour of that theory. In the very word
Calshot, and its intermediate forms of Caushot, Caldshore, and
Cauldshore,[70] we may, without difficulty, recognize a corruption of
the original Cerdices-ora of the _Chronicle_ and _Florence_. The word is
formed like the names of various places close by, such as Needsore (the
under-shore) and Stansore Point.[71] But going farther back, we come
much nearer to its original form in the old Forest perambulation made in
the eighth year of Edward I., where it is spelt Kalkesore.[72] As then,
Charford, on the north-east borders of the New Forest, is the
representative of Cerdices-ford, where Cerdic’s last victory was gained
over Ambrosius; so here, I think, at the south-west, near Kalkesore, now
Calshot, was his first achieved.

From this point the scenery completely changes. Instead of lanes and
cultivated fields, the shingly beach of the Solent, covered in places to
the water’s edge with woods, sweeps away to the west. Passing on to
Eagle-hurst, and noticing the truth of the termination even to this day,
let us sit down on the shore. Here is a view which should be remembered.
In one sense the world cannot show its equal. Far away to the east
stretches the low Hampshire coast, ended by the harbour of Portsmouth
and its bare forest of masts. To the south, towards Spithead, rides the
long line of battle-ships; and round the harbours of the two Cowes sail
fleets of yachts, showing how much still of the old Scandinavian blood
runs in our veins—of the spirit which finds employment in adventure and
delight in danger. Steamers, with their black pennants of smoke, hurry
down the narrow strait, carrying the news or the merchandise of the
world; whilst all is overshadowed by supreme natural beauty, the hills
of the Isle of Wight standing boldly up, crested with their soft green
downs, and their dark purple shadows resting fold over fold on the
valley sides. Still continuing along the shore we reach Leap, a small
fishing village, where boats ply across from its hard to the Island. Its
name is, perhaps, derived from the Old-English _leap_, a weel, or basket
for catching fish.[73] Here, it is said, but I know not on what
authority save that worst—tradition, that the Dauphin, afterwards Louis
VIII. of France, embarked after the defeat of his army at Lincoln, and
his fleet off Dover. Certain it is that he had adherents to his cause in
the neighbourhood, especially in William de Vernon, whose arms were
formerly blazoned with his own in the east window of the north aisle of
the Forest Church of Boldre.[74]

On somewhat better authority,[75] it rests that the unhappy Charles I.,
on the 13th of November, 1647, outwitted by his enemies and deceived by
his friends, entrusted himself, after his flight from Hampton Court, to
Colonel Hammond, and, embarking here, returned by Hurst to atone for the
past by his life.

But of greater interest is the Roman Road which connected Leap with
Southampton and Winchester in one direction, and Ringwood and the west
in another. Its traces may be found not only here but on the opposite
side, where, still known by the Norman name of Rue Street, it passes
westward of Carisbrook to the extreme south of the Island.[76] Its old
appellation is preserved, too, on this side in the name of a
farmhouse—King’s Rue, and Rue Copse, and Rue Common; and it is well
worthy of notice that this word is even now sometimes used in the
Forest, as in Sussex, for a row or hedgerow. Previous to it, however,
there existed a British track, still clearly visible across the Forest,
especially near Butts Ash barrows, by its deep depressions. Both roads,
though, can still tell us something of the past. The opinion of late
philologists and geographers, with the exception of Lappenburg and Sir
G. C. Lewis, has been against the idea that the Isle of Wight was the
Vectis or Ictis of the ancients. The argument, however, against the
passage in Diodorus Siculus,[77] that it would be so much easier for the
first traders to have exported the tin from Belerium instead of bringing
it by inland transport to the Island, and then shipping it to Gaul, is
founded upon ignorance. Sea carriage was then far more difficult and
dangerous than land conveyance. Ancient mariners were easily frightened,
and their vessels put into land every night. As Sir G. C. Lewis further
remarks, foreign merchants were always regarded with jealousy and
distrust, and the overland route would enable the traffic to be carried
out through the whole distance by native traders.[78]

Singularly enough, however, Warner[79] states that a large mass of tin
was found on the very site of this old Roman road, or, rather, as the
fact of the mere shapeless mass would prove, on the older British track.
Not only, too, was tin brought here from Cornwall, but also, in later
times, lead from the Mendip Hills. Pigs of it have been picked up on a
branch of the same Roman road running from Uphill on the Severn to
Salisbury, and from thence joining the Leap road. One of them, stamped
with the name of Hadrian, is now in the Bath Museum. We are thus enabled
to connect Leap with the famous passage of the Greek historian.

Sir George Lewis’s theory has, too, been singularly corroborated in
other directions, especially by the large quantities of bronze ornaments
found during the excavations in the Swiss Lakes, 1853 and 1854, the
metals of which could only have been brought there by an overland route.

Further, too, we must not reject the account of Diodorus, because he
says that at low tide the tin was carried over in carts. We must
remember the extremely indefinite views of the ancients on all
geographical subjects. The vaguest ideas were held, especially about
Britain. Erring in a different direction, the mistake is not so bad as
Pliny’s, in making the Island six days’ sail from England. There seems,
however, a most natural explanation, that Diodorus, not having been
there, took for granted the wild traditions and rumours which reached
him, and which, even in these days, with only the slightest possible
variation of form, still hold their ground with the Forest peasantry, in
the legend that the stone of which Beaulieu Abbey is built was brought
over the dry bed of the Solent, in carts, from the Binstead Quarries.

Still the passage is not without the further difficulty, that Diodorus
seems, from the context, to have supposed that the Island was situated
close to where the tin was dug. This, again, must be set down to that
ignorance of geography, which has involved all Greek writers in such
extraordinary mistakes.

Leap itself is now nothing but a village, with a scattered agricultural
population; some few, however, maintaining themselves by fishing in the
summer, and in the winter by shooting the ducks and geese which flock to
the creeks and harbours of the Solent. Leaving it, and still keeping
westward, we come to the Beaulieu river, where, in the autumn, after the
heavy floods from the Forest, the salmon leap and sport in the freshets.
The road now winds past Exbury by the side of thick copses which fringe
the river. At last, at Hill Top, we reach Beaulieu Heath, and, in the
far distance, the green foliage of the Forest hangs cloudlike in the
air, whilst down in the valley lies the village of Beaulieu.

    [Illustration: The Norman Doorway of Fawley Church.]




                              CHAPTER VI.
                            BEAULIEU ABBEY.


    [Illustration: Arches of the Chapter House.]

I should trust that, on a fine day, twenty miles are not too much for
any Englishman. If they are, and any one should think the walk along the
coast too long, Beaulieu may be reached by going direct from Hythe,
across Beaulieu Common. The moor stretches out on all sides, flushed in
the summer with purple heather, northward to the Forest, southward to
the cultivated fields round Leap and Exbury. Passing “The Nodes,”[80]
the road runs quite straight to Hill Top, with its clump of firs, which
we reached in the last chapter.

Down in the valley, hid from us by a turn in the road, lies Beaulieu.
But a little farther on we reach part of the old Abbey walls, broken
here and there, clustered with ivy, and grass, and yellow mullein, and
white yarrow, whilst vine-clad cottages stand against its sides. The
village is situated on a bend of the Exe, where, spanned by a bridge,
the stream falls over the weir, formerly turning the old mill-wheel of
the monks, and then, broadening with the tide, winds through meadows and
thick oak copses down to the Solent.

Although far more beautifully situated, the Abbey is not nearly so well
known as its own filial house at Netley, simply because more out of the
way. For a moment let us give some account of its foundation,
illustrating as it does both King John’s cruelty and superstition. The
story, as told by the monks, is that John, after various oppressions of
the Cistercian Order, in the year 1204, convened their abbots to his
Parliament at Lincoln. As soon as they came, he ordered his retainers to
charge them on horseback. No one was found to obey such a command. The
monks fled to their lodgings. That night the King dreamt he was led
before a judge, who ordered him to be scourged by these very monks. The
next morning John narrated his dream, which was so vivid that he
declared he felt the blows when he awoke, to a priest of his court, who
told him that God had been most merciful in thus simply chastising him
in this world, and revealing the secrets of His will. He advised him at
once to send for the abbots, whom he had so ill-treated, and to implore
their pardon.[81]

Some truth, doubtless, underlies this story. Certain it is that in the
same year, or the next, John founded the Abbey at Beaulieu, then Bellus
Locus, so called from its beauty, placing there thirty monks from St.
Mary’s, at Citeaux, endowing it with land in the New Forest, and manors,
and villages, and churches in Berkshire; exempting it from various
services and taxes and tolls; giving further, out of his own treasury, a
hundred marks; and ordering all other Cistercian Houses to assist in the
work. Not only did he do this, but he revoked his gift of the manor of
Farendon, which, in the previous year, he had conditionally bestowed on
some other Cistercian monks, and now transferred it to Beaulieu, making
the House at Faringdon a mere offshoot from the larger building.[82] And
the abbot designate repaid him in his life-time by accusing his enemy,
Stephen of Canterbury, before the Pope, for treason, and causing him to
be suspended.[83]

John died, and Henry III. not only confirmed the privileges, but granted
several more in consideration of the great expense of the building, and
Innocent III. gave it the right of a sanctuary. So the work proceeded.
The stone was quarried principally from the opposite limestone-beds in
the Isle of Wight; and was brought over, says tradition, curiously
illustrating the vague notions of ancient geography, which we have seen
in Diodorus Siculus,[84] in carts. Not, however, till 1249, some
forty-five years after its foundation, was the monastery finished. Henry
himself, and his Queen, and Richard, Earl of Cornwall, and a long train
of nobles and prelates, came to its dedication on the feast of St. John;
Hugh, the first abbot, spending no less than five hundred marks on the
entertainment.[85]

So, at last, the good work was accomplished, and men came here and
lived, taking for their pattern the holy St. Benedict, and finding the
problem of life solved by daily prayer to heaven and labour on
earth.[86]

Here, to its sanctuary, in 1471, after she had landed at Southampton on
Easter Day, the very day of the battle of Barnet, fled the Countess of
Warwick, wife of the King-maker, slain on that bloody field.[87] Here,
too, in 1497, after having raised the siege of Exeter, and deserted his
troops at Taunton, fled the worthless Perkin Warbeck, not only an
impostor, but a coward, closely pursued by Lord Daubeny and five hundred
men. Persuaded, however, by Henry VII.’s promises, he left his shelter
only to become a prisoner in the Tower, and finally to expiate his
deceit at Tyburn.

So years passed at the Abbey, the monks happy in saying their daily
prayers, content to see the corn grow, and their vineyards ripen, and
their flocks increase, knowing little of the troubles which raged in the
outer world, save when some forlorn fugitive arrived. But even what is
best becomes the worst. Time brought a change of spirit on all the
monasteries. Long before the middle of the sixteenth century the stern
earnestness of a former age had dwindled into effeminacy and sensuality.
Piety had sunk into gross idolatry; and faith, amongst the laity, had
been corrupted into credulity, and, with the priests, into hypocrisy.
The greatest blessings had festered into curses. It was so, we know,
through all England. And Beaulieu must suffer with the rest of the
monasteries.

In 1537, the Abbey was dissolved, the last Abbot, Thomas Stephens, with
twenty out of the thirty monks, signing the deed of surrender.[88]
Stephens was pensioned off with a hundred marks; and some of the monks
received various annuities and compensations for their losses. So fell
the monastery of Beaulieu, and its stones went to build Henry VIII.’s
martello tower at Hurst, and its lead to repair Calshot,[89] to fight
against the very Power which had raised it to its glory.

Few abbeys have known so lovely a site. Placed close to the banks, it
overlooked the Exe, formed by the tide more into a lake than a river. On
every side it was sheltered: on the north by rising ground and the woods
of the New Forest, and on the east again by the Forest and more hills,
from whence an aqueduct brought down the water for the use of the monks;
and on the south and west all was guarded by the river.

To this day the outer walls are in places standing, with the water-gate
covered with ivy. And inside is the palace, placed amongst its own
grounds, surrounded by elms. Above its doorway is cut a canopied niche,
where stood the patron saint, the Virgin, and above runs the
string-course, supported by its carved corbel-heads. But the whole
building has been unfortunately defaced by a moat and turretted wall,
built as a defence by one of the Montagues against French privateers, as
also by the modernized windows.[90]

The entrance-hall, too, like all the other rooms, has been sadly
modernized, though its fine groined roof, springing from four shafts on
each side, and a lancet window in the east wall, still remain. Upstairs,
also, is left some oak panelling of Henry VIII.’s time, of the linen
pattern, but covered over with paint. Eastward, in the meadow adjoining,
stands the guest-house, better known in the village, from its former
occupants, as Burman’s House. Passing through it, we suddenly come upon
the green quadrangle once surrounded with cloisters, where the three
arches leading into the chapter-house still remain. The black Purbeck
marble shafts, and bands, and capitals, have, however, long since become
weather-worn and decayed, though the Binstead and Caen stone still
stands, here and there covered with ivy, crested with wall-flowers, and
white and crimson pinks, and rusted with lichens.

In the chapter-house are strewed the broken pillars which supported the
groined roof, and the broken stone-seats which ran round the inside,
whilst on the floor lie a stone coffin and gravestones. To the north of
it stand the ruins of the sacristy.

Of the cloisters, the north alley is the most perfect, with its seven
carols, where the monks sat and talked; whilst above project the corbels
which carried the cloister-roof. Here and there, too, as at the two
north doors leading into the church, some of the original pavement still
remains.

The church, however, has long since been destroyed. Nothing, except a
portion of the south transept, is left. The foundations, though, can be
accurately traced, showing the nave and aisles, and the large circular
apse at the east end. Scattered about, too, appear the tesselated floor,
bright as on the day it was laid down, and the graves of the abbots, and
of Isabella, first wife of Richard Earl of Cornwall.[91]

Out in the fields beyond stand the ruins of a building, now a mere
pinfold for cattle, called by tradition the Monk’s Vine-Press, whilst
the meadows beyond, lying on the slope of the hill, are still known as
“the Vineyards.”[92]

But the refectory still remains on the south side of the cloisters, from
which a doorway, still ornamented with iron scroll-work, used to lead.
Ever since the Reformation it has served as the parish church, differing
only in its appearance by its lack of orientation.[93] In 1746 it was
repaired, and its original roof lowered, and its fine triplet at the
south end spoilt by a buttress, and one of the lancets lighting the
wall-passage on the west side also blocked up. Its walls, however, are
now covered with common spleenwort, and wall-lettuce, and pellitory,
whilst the narrow-leaved rue—the “herb o’ grace o’ Sundays”—with which
the old churchyards used to be sown, shows its pale blue blossoms
amongst the gravestones.

    [Illustration: Pulpit of the Refectory.]

Inside it is still more interesting. Here still stands the lovely stone
pulpit, its panels rich with flower-tracery, approached by a
wall-passage and open arcade springing from double rows of black Purbeck
marble pillars. This was the old rostrum of the monks, where one of the
brethren read to the rest at their meals; so that, as St. Augustine
says, their mouths should not only taste, but their ears also drink in
the Word of God. Here, in this very village church, the old Cistercian
monks obeyed the injunction of their order[94],—“When we enter, let us
bare our heads, and going to our seats bend before the cross. Let us not
behave idly, lest we give offence to any one. Let not our eyes wander,
lest we give occasion for bickering, or quarrelling, or laughing; but
fulfilling the saying of the blessed Hugh of Lincoln, ‘let us keep our
eyes upon the table, our ears with the reader, and our hearts with
God.’”[95]

In the churchyard, plainly traceable by the ruined foundations, and
mounds, and depressions, are the sites of the lavatory and kitchens,
whilst in the fields beyond lie the fish-ponds. Everywhere, in fact, are
seen the traces of the monks. Their walks still remain by the side of
the Exe, overgrown with oaks, bright in the spring with blue and crimson
lungwort, and sweet with violets, such as grew when Anne Beauchamp
sought refuge here that dismal Easter day.

Not only do the Abbey grounds,[96] but the whole district, show the size
of the monastery. Going out of Beaulieu, upon the road to Bucklershard,
we come upon the ox-farm of the monks, still called Bouvery, and still
famous for its grazing land. A little farther, about the centre of their
various farmsteads, at St. Leonard’s, better known now as the Abbey
Walls, stands part of the large barn, or _spicarium_, of the monastery,
such as still remains in other parts of England—at Cerne Abbey, and
Abbotsbury, and Sherborne, and Battle Abbey.[97] A modern barn now
stands within it, partly formed by its walls, but its original size is
well shown by the lofty eastern gable, locally called the Pinnacle,
which, covered with ivy, overhangs the road. Close to the old
farm-house, built from its ruins, stands a small roofless Decorated
Chapel. The west window, and the arch of the west doorway, still remain,
and at the same end still project the corbels which supported the
gallery. In the east wall are canopied niches, under which stood
figures; and on the south the piscina, and the broken conduit where the
water ran, and two aumbries are still visible, whilst opposite to them,
in the present doorway, another aumbrie is inserted with its two grooves
for shelves cut in the stone.[98]

    [Illustration: The Barn of St. Leonard’s Grange.]

    [Illustration: The Chapel of St. Leonard’s Grange.]

Close to St. Leonard’s lies also the sheep-farm of the monks, still
called Bargery, and still famous for its sheep-land. Nearer Bucklershard
is Park Farm, another grange, where fifty years ago stood a chapel,
smaller even than the one we have just seen, partly Early-English and
Decorated. It was divided into two compartments by a stone screen
reaching to a plain roof. The piscina in the south wall was finally used
by the ploughmen to mix their wheat with lime, until the whole building
was pulled down to enlarge the farm-house from whose south-east end it
projected.[99]

At these two granges the brethren worked in summer from chapter till
tierce, and from nones till vespers. Here lived the ploughmen and
artisans, the millers, and smiths, and carpenters, of the monastery. For
them were these chapels built, lest either the weather or the roads
might prevent them going to the Abbey Church.[100] Here they all
worshipped as one family, the serf no longer a serf, but a freedman,
when he entered the service of the abbey.

Farther away to the westward lies Sowley Pond, called in the Abbey
Charters Colgrimesmore, and Frieswater, covering some ninety acres,
formerly the boundary of the abbey estate, and used by the monks as a
preserve for their fish. Here once were iron-works, whose blast-furnaces
were heated with wood and charcoal from the Forest. The iron-stone was
brought from Hengistbury Head and the Hordle Cliffs, and after being
melted was shaped by the tilt-hammers, and finally sent off inland to
Reading, or shipped at Pitt’s Deep. But like all the other ferraria of
Sussex and Hampshire, these too have long since been stopped, driven out
of the field by the Staffordshire iron-works. Nothing now remains to
tell their former importance but a few mounds and the village
Forge-Hammer Inn, and a country proverb, “There will be rain when Sowley
hammer is heard,” whose meaning is fast being lost.

Returning, however, to Beaulieu, let us once more look at the old abbey
and the ruins of the cloisters, and try to imagine for ourselves the
time when, secluded from the world, in the midst of the New Forest, the
monks from Citeaux prayed and worked, clad in their coarse white woollen
robes, and slept, according to their vow, on pallets of straw, giving
shelter to the fugitive, and food to the hungry.[101] It is only by
seeing some such grey ruins as these, still breathing of a long past
religion, placed amongst the solitude of their own green meadows and
woods, by the silent lapse of some stream flowing and ebbing with every
tide, that we can at all understand the meaning of a life of
contemplation, and its true value. Along these cloisters paced the
brethren, their eyes bent on the earth, their thoughts on heaven. Here
tolled the great abbey-bell, its sound, full of solemn sweetness, borne
not only over the lonely Forest, but down the river seaward to the
tossing sailor. Here was that comfort, which could never fail, offered
to the most desolate, and heaven itself, as a fatherland, to the exile.
Here the great gate not only rolled back the noise of the world, but, to
show that mercy is ever better than vengeance, stayed the hand of the
law, and blunted the sword of the pursuer.

In these days we are surrounded by noise and excitement. Everywhere is
haste and its accompanying confusion. It matters not what we do, the
fever of competition ever rages. We travel as though we were flying from
ourselves. We write the history of things before they are accomplished,
and the lives of men before they are dead. Surely there is some profit
to be found in coming to a quiet village like this, if it will only give
us some glimpses of a life which stands out in such strange contrast to
our own.

    [Illustration: Canopied Niche in St. Leonard’s Chapel.]




                              CHAPTER VII.
   THE SOUTH-WESTERN PART—BROCKENHURST, BOLDRE, SWAY, HINCHELSEA, AND
                                BURLEY.


    [Illustration: View in Frame Wood, Brockenhurst.]

At present we have seen nothing of the actual Forest. It is only as we
go northward that we begin to enter its woods. Instead of the old Forest
track, a road now runs from Beaulieu to Brockenhurst, along which we
will go. So, leaving the village, and passing a few straggling
half-timbered cottages, we reach Stickland’s Hill, where, down in the
valley, we can see the Exe winding round the old Abbot’s House set
amongst its green elms. Farther on we come to Hatchet Gate, and the
Forest then spreads before us, with Hatchet Pond on our left, and Little
Wood and the Moon Hill Woods on our right; whilst, here and there on the
common, rise scattered barrows.

And now, instead of keeping to the road, let the reader make right
across the plain, by one of the Forest tracks, to the woods at Iron’s
Hill. The stories, with which most books on the Forest abound, of
persons being swamped in morasses, are much exaggerated. Mind only this
simple rule—wherever you see the white cotton-grass growing, and the
bog-moss particularly fine and green, to avoid that place.

And now, when you are fairly out on the moor, you will feel the fresh
salt breeze blowing up from the Solent, and see the long treeless line
of the Island hills in strange contrast with the masses of wood in
front; whilst the moor itself, if it be August, waves with purple and
crimson, except where, here and there, rise great beds of fern-green
islands, in the red sea of heath.

Most of the finest timber at Iron’s Hill and Palmer’s Water has been
lately cut. Keeping on, however, we shall again come out upon the road
which leads down to the stream, close to a mill. Passing over the
footbridge, we skirt Brockenhurst Manor, where, at Watcombe, once lived
Howard the philanthropist, and so at last reach the village.

So greatly has the Forest been reduced in size, that Brockenhurst, once
nearly its centre, is now only a border village. Its Old-English name
(the badger’s wood), like that of Everton, the wild-boar place, on the
southern side of the Forest, tells its own story. It consists of one
long straggling street, and a few scattered houses, with one or two
village inns. Much of its wildness has been spoilt by the railroad; and
in consequence, too, of the adjoining manor of Brockenhurst, it appears
even less than it really is in the Forest. Still, however, if the reader
wishes to see the Forest woods and heaths towards the south, let him
come here, and the village accommodation will only give an additional
charm to the scenery. I, for my part, do not know that a clean English
village inn, with its sanded floor, and its best parlour kept for state
occasions, makes such bad quarters. It is a real pleasure to find some
spots on the earth not yet disfigured by fashionable hotels.

At Brockenhurst existed one of those tenures of knight-service once so
common throughout England. Here Peter Spelman, an ancestor of the
antiquary, held a carucate of land by the service of finding for Edward
II. an esquire clad in coat of mail for forty days in the year, and
whenever the King came to the village to hunt, litter for his bed, and
hay for his horse, which last clause will give us some insight into the
often rough living and habits of the fourteenth century.[102] Here, too,
not many years ago, droves of deer would at night, when all was still,
race up the village street, and the village dogs leap out and kill them,
or chase them back to the Forest.

The church, one of the only two in the Forest mentioned in
_Domesday_,[103] is built on an artificial mound on the top of a hill, a
little way out of the village, so that it might serve as a landmark in
the Forest.[104] The church has been sadly mutilated. A wretched brick
tower has been patched on at the west end; and on the north side a new
staring red brick aisle, which surpasses even the usual standard of
ugliness of a dissenting chapel. On the south side stands the Norman
doorway, with plain escalloped capitals, and an outside arch ornamented
with the indented and chevron mouldings. The chancel is Early-English,
whilst the plain chancel arch which springs without even an impost from
the wall, is very early Norman. Under one of the chancel windows rises
the arch of an Easter sepulchre, whilst a square Norman font, of black
Purbeck marble, stands at the south-west end of the nave.

If the church, however, has been disfigured, the approach to it
fortunately remains in all its beauty. For a piece of quiet English
scenery nothing can exceed this. A deep lane, its banks a garden of
ferns, its hedge matted with honeysuckle, and woven together with
bryony, runs, winding along a side space of green, to the latch-gate,
guarded by an enormous oak, its limbs now fast decaying, its rough bark
grey with the perpetual snow of lichens, and here and there burnished
with soft streaks of russet-coloured moss; whilst behind it, in the
churchyard, spreads the gloom of a yew, which, from the Conqueror’s day,
to this hour, has darkened the graves of generations.[105]

But the charm of Brockenhurst, as of all the Forest villages, consists
in the Forest itself. To the north runs the small Forest stream,
blossomed over in the summer with water-lilies. On the left lies Black
Knoll, with its waste of heath and gorse, running up to the young
plantations of New Park. On the right, Balmor Lawn, with its short,
sweet turf, where herds of cattle are pasturing, stretches away to
Holland’s Wood, with old thorns scattered here and there, in the spring
lighting up the Forest with their white may.

Just now though, it is the southern part of the Forest we must see. So
going back again for a little way upon the Beaulieu Road, and leaving it
just above the foot-bridge for Whitley Lodge, let the reader go on to
Lady Cross. Suddenly he will come out upon the northern edge of Beaulieu
Heath, and see again the Island Hills. To the people in the Forest, the
Island is their weather-glass. If its hills look dark blue and purple,
then the weather will be fine; but if they can see the houses and the
chalk quarries on the hill sides, the rain is sure to come.

Keeping straight on, with Lady Cross Lodge to our left, we enter Frame
Wood, with its turf and its bridle roads winding under the Forest
boughs. Down in the bottom runs the railroad bending away to the north.
On the other side, the thick woods of Denny rise; and the clump of
solitary beeches on the top of the knoll shows the last remains of Wood
Fidley, so well known as having given rise to the Forest proverb of
“Wood Fidley rain,” that is, rain which lasts all the day.

Here you can wander on for miles, as far as the manor of Bishop’s Ditch,
belonging to Winchester College, which the Forest peasant will tell you
was a grant of land as much as the Bishop of Winchester could in a day
crawl round on his hands and knees. As to losing yourself, never mind.
The real plan to enjoy the Forest is to wander on, careless whether you
lose yourself or not. In fact, I believe the real method is to try and
lose yourself, finding your greatest pleasure in the unexpected scenes
of beauty into which you are led.

There are plenty of other Forest rambles round Brockenhurst which must
not be forgotten. Just at the western edge of Beaulieu Heath, about
three miles off, stands Boldre Church, with its solitary churchyard
surrounded by trees. On one side, it looks out upon the bare Forest; and
on the other, down into the cultivated valley. Most suggestful, most
peaceful is this twofold prospect, telling us alike both of work and
companionship, as, too, of solitude—all of them, in religion, so needful
for man. Its tower stands boldly out, almost away from the church, just
between the nave and the chancel, serving formerly, like Brockenhurst
steeple, as a landmark to the Forest; whilst the long outline of the
nave is broken only by the south porch, and its three dormer windows.
Here Southey married his second wife, Catharine Bowles. And close to the
north side, under the shadow of a maple, lies one of the truest lovers
of Nature—Gilpin, the author of the _Scenery of the_ _New Forest_, with
a quaint, simple inscription on his gravestone written by himself. In
the church are tablets both to him and Bromfield, the botanist, a man
like him in many ways, but who, dying abroad, was not allowed to rest
beside him in this quiet graveyard.

The south aisle is the oldest part, with its three Norman arches rising
from square piers, whilst the north aisle is divided from the nave by a
row of Early-English arches springing from plain black Purbeck marble
shafts. In the east window of this aisle were once painted the arms of
the Dauphin of France—the fleurs de lis—blazoned, as they were formerly,
over the whole field, telling us the story of Lewis having been invited
to England and crowned king by John’s barons, and whose traditional
flight at Leap has been mentioned.

Down below, in the valley of the Brockenhurst Water, lies Boldre, the
Bovre of _Domesday_, with its meadows and cornfields. It is worth while
to pause for a moment, and notice the corruption of Boldre into Bovre by
the Norman clerks. The word is from the Keltic, and signifies the full
stream (“_y Byldwr_”), and has nothing to do with oxen. We must, too,
bear in mind that the various Oxenfords and Oxfords are themselves
corruptions, and really come not from oxen at all, but Usk, literally
meaning the stream-ford or stream-road, and are in no way connected with
the various Old-English Rodfords to be found in different parts of the
kingdom. This corruption of language we see daily going on in our own
Colonies, but it is well to pause and remember that the same process has
taken place in our own country.

Passing over the bridge, and up the village, and under the railway arch,
we once more reach the Forest at Shirley Holms, coming out on Shirley
and Sway Commons. Here again, as on Beaulieu Heath, there is not a
single tree, nothing but one vast stretch of heather, which late in the
summer covers the ground with its crimson and amethyst. There is only
one fault to be found with it, that when its glory is past it leaves so
great a blank behind: its grey withered flowers and its grey scanty
foliage forming such a contrast with its previous brightness and
cheerfulness.

But these two commons will at all times be interesting to the
archæologist and historian. On the north-east side lies the Roydon, that
is, the rough ground, a word which we find in other parts of the Forest;
and not far from it is Lichmore or Latchmore Pond—the place of
corpses—which is confirmed by the various adjoining barrows.[106]

After this point, there is nothing to attract the traveller, unless he
is a botanist, to the south. Wootton, and Wilverley, and Setthorns, and
Holmsley, are all young plantations, whilst at Wootton the Forest now
entirely ceases, though once stretching five miles farther, as far as
the sea. So let him make his way to Longslade, or Hinchelsea Bottom, as
it is indifferently called, where about the middle of June blossoms the
lesser bladderwort (_Utricularia minor_), and about the same time, or
rather later, the floating bur-reed (_Sparganeum natans_).

Above, rises Hinchelsea Knoll, with its old hollies and beeches; and
still farther to the north the high lands round Lyndhurst and Stony
Cross crowned with woods. Westward, the heather stretches over plain and
hill till it reaches Burley. Making right through Hinchelsea, and then
skirting the north side of Wilverley plantations, we shall come to the
valley of Holmsley, so beloved by Scott, and which put him in mind of
his native moors, without seeing which once a year, he so pathetically
said, he felt as if he should die. Its wild beauty, however, is in a
great measure spoilt by the railroad, and the large trees which grew in
Scott’s time have all been felled.

Burley itself, which now lies just before us, is one of the most
primitive of Forest hamlets, the village suddenly losing itself amongst
the holms and hollies, and then reforming itself again in some open
space. So thoroughly a Forest village, it is proverbially said to be
dependent upon the yearly crop of acorns and mast, or “akermast,” as
they are collectively called. To the south-west stands Burley Beacon,
where some entrenchments are still visible, and the fields lying round
it are still called “Greater” and “Lesser Castle Fields,” and “Barrows,”
and “Coffins,” showing that the whole district has once been one vast
battle-field.

Close to the village are the Burley quarries, where the so-called Burley
rock, a mere conglomerate of gravel, the “ferrels,” or “verrels,” of
North Hampshire, is dug, formerly used for the foundations of the old
Forest churches, as at Brockenhurst, and Minestead, and Sopley in the
Vale of the Avon. The great woods round Burley have all been cut, except
a few beech-woods, but here and there “merry orchards” mingle themselves
with the holms and hollies, wandering, half-wild, amongst the
Forest.[107]

Turning away from the village, and going north-east, before us rise
great woods—Old Burley, with its yews and oaks, where the raven used to
build; Vinney Ridge, with its heronry at one extremity, and the Eagle
Tree at the other; whilst behind us are the young Burley plantations.
Here, near the Lodge, scattered in some fields, stand the remains of the
“Twelve Apostles,” once enormous oaks, reduced both in number and size,
with

              “Boughs moss’d with age,
  And high tops bald with dry antiquity.”

And now, if the reader does not mind the swamps—and if he really wishes
to know the Forest, and to see its best scenes, it is useless to mind
them—let him make his way across to Mark Ash, the finest beechwood in
the Forest, which even on a summer’s day is dark at noon. Thence the
wood-cutter’s track will take him by Barrow’s Moor and Knyghtwood, where
grows the well-known oak. Here a different scene opens out with broad
spaces of heath and fern, where the gladiolus shows its red blossoms
among the green leaves of the brake; whilst on the hill, distinguished
by its poplars, stands Rhinefield, with its nursery, and, below, the two
woods of Birchen Hat, where the common buzzard yearly breeds.

Keeping along the main road, which is just before us, nearly as far as
the New Forest Gate, we will turn in at Liney Hill Wood, going through
the woods of Brinken, and the Queen’s Mead, and the Queen’s Bower,
following the course of the stream.

Very beautiful is this walk, with its paths which stray down to the
water’s edge, where the cattle come to drink; the stream pausing round
some oak roots, which pleach the banks, lingering in the darkness of the
shade, and at last going away with reluctance.

Few things, of their sort, can equal these lowland Forest streams, the
water tinged with the iron of the district, flashing into amber in the
sunlight, and deepening into rich browns in the shade, making the
pebbles hazel as it ripples over them.

All the way along grow oaks and beeches, each guarded with its green
fence of kneeholm, and furred with moss, which the setting sun paints
with bands of light. And so, in turn, passing Burley and Rhinefield
Fords, and Cammel Green, and the Buckpen, where the deer used to be fed
in winter, the path suddenly comes out by a lonely grass-field, known as
the Queen’s Mead, and immediately after enters the Queen’s Bower Wood.
At the farther end, a bridge crosses the brook by the side of one of the
many Boldrefords in the Forest; and in the distance, across Black Knoll,
shine the white houses of Brockenhurst.

    [Illustration: View in the Queen’s Bower Wood.]




                             CHAPTER VIII.
                      THE CENTRAL PART—LYNDHURST.


    [Illustration: The Great Huntley Woods.]

As we leave Brockenhurst we find ourselves more and more in the Forest.
The road to Lyndhurst is one long avenue of trees—beeches with their
smooth trunks, oaks growing in groups, with here and there long lawns
stretching far away into distant woods. Most beautiful is this road in
the spring. Stand on the top of Clay Hill, about the beginning or end of
May, and you shall see wood after wood, masses of colour, the birches
hung with the softest green, and the oak boughs breaking into amber and
olive, made doubly bright by the dark gloom of firs, the blackthorn
giving place to the sweeter may, and the marigold on the stream to the
brighter lily.

On our left lies New Park, now turned into a farm, where in 1670 Charles
II. kept a herd of red deer, brought from France, but previously used as
a pound for stray cattle. Passing on by a roadside inn with the strange
sign of the “Crown and Stirrup,” referring to a pseudo-relic of Rufus’s,
preserved at the King’s House, but which is nothing more than a
stirrup-iron of the sixteenth century, we reach Lyndhurst—the lime
wood,[108] the capital of the Forest, the Linhest of _Domesday_.

William the Conqueror at one time held the manor, in his own hands,
dependent on that of Amesbury. Here, after the afforestation, Herbert
the Forester held one yardland, on which only two borderers lived, the
rest of the manor, which was only two hydes, being thrown into the
Forest.[109] Here, also, as at Brockenhurst, was another of the old
feudal tenures; for, in the time of Edward I., William-le-Moyne held
probably these same two hydes of land, which had been disafforested, by
the sergeantry of keeping the door of the King’s larder.[110]

In the village stands the Queen’s House, built in Charles II.’s time,
and adjoining it is the Hall where the Courts of Attachment, or
Woodmote, the last remnant of the terrible Forest Laws, are regularly
held by the verderers, to try all cases of stealing fern and timber.

Close by is the new, half-finished, church, standing in the old
churchyard made famous by Mr. Kingsley’s ballad. It is not fair at
present to pass a final judgment. When the tower is added, and time
shall have touched the walls with a soberer tone, its two great defects
will have disappeared, though nothing can remedy the heavy and
poverty-stricken window of the north transept with its flattened
mullions, and a wretched chimney near the choir utterly spoiling the
effect of the beautiful chancel windows.

Inside, the red brick pillars of the arches of the aisles are clustered
with black slate shafts, and banded with scroll-work of white Caen
stone, the capitals carved with lilies, and primroses, and violets.[111]
And above hangs a Perpendicular timbered roof, resting on the corbel
heads of the martyrs and reformers of the Church—of Melancthon and
Cranmer, and Luther and Latimer,—and the carved emblems of the
Evangelists at the four corners.

In the choir and chancel the wall-colouring is more harmonious than in
the nave, where there is a certain coldness and hardness, whilst the
shafts are here wrought of rich Cornish marble. Over the communion-table
is Mr. Leighton’s fresco, a small piece of it now only completed—an
angel standing with outstretched hands, keeping back those virgins who
have come too late to the bridegroom’s feast, the despair and anguish of
their faces further typified by the rent wall, and the melancholy
dreariness of the owl.[112]

That there are defects in the church its greatest admirers would
admit—the poorness of the roof, the harshness produced by the
introduction of so much white, as also the bad colour of the bricks, and
a heaviness which hangs over the clerestory windows of the nave. But, on
the whole, it stands as a proof of the great advance during the last ten
years of Art, as a cheering sign, too, that, amidst all the failures of
Government, some taste and zeal are to be found amongst private persons.

There is nothing else of interest in the village. Once here busy scenes
must have taken place, when the King came to hunt with his retinue of
nobles; when down the street poured the train of bow-bearers, and
foresters, and keepers, clad in doublets of Lincoln green, holding the
dogs in leash. Then the woods rang with the notes of the bugle, and the
twang of the bow-string sounded as the bolt, or the good English
yard-shaft, brought down the quarry. Here, too, in the Civil War, were
quartered grim Puritan soldiers, and prayers took the place of
feasts.[113] Now, all is quiet. Nothing is to be seen but the Forest
inviting us into its green glades.

The people of Lyndhurst ought, I always think, to be the happiest and
most contented in England, for they possess a wider park and nobler
trees than even Royalty. You cannot leave the place in any direction
without going through the Forest. To the east lie the great woods of
Denny and Ashurst; and to the north rise Cutwalk and Emery Down, looking
across the vale to Minestead, and below them Kitt’s Hill, and the woods
stretching away towards Alum Green. On the extreme west Mark Ash, and
Gibb’s Hill, and Boldrewood, rise towering one after the other; whilst
to the south stretch Gretnam and the Great and Little Huntley Woods,
which the Millaford Brook skirts, here and there flowing out from the
darkness of the trees into the sunshine, the banks scooped into holes,
and held together only by the rope-work of roots.

These woods are always beautiful. Of their loveliness in spring we have
spoken; and if you come to them in summer, then the first purple of the
heather flaunts on every bank, and edges the sides of the gravel-pits
with a crimson fringe; and the streams now idle, suffer themselves to be
stopped up with water-lilies and white crowfoot, whilst the mock-myrtle
dips itself far into the water. Then is it you may know something of the
sweetness and the solitude of the woods, and wandering on, giving the
day up to profitable idleness, can attain to that mood of which
Wordsworth constantly sings, as teaching more than all books or years of
study.

    [Illustration: The Woodman’s Path, Bramble Hill.]




                              CHAPTER IX.
                      MINESTEAD AND RUFUS’S STONE.


    [Illustration: Oaks in Boldrewood.]

About four miles off from Lyndhurst lie Minestead and Rufus’s Stone.
There are three or four different roads to them. The most beautiful,
though the longest, is over Emery Down, where, turning off to the left,
you pass the woods of Kitt’s Hill, and James Hill. Then crossing
Millaford Bridge, and skirting on each side of the road the beeches of
Holme Hill, and passing through Boldrewood, you make your way eastward
across the stream below the Withy Bed Hat, and go through the woods of
Puckpits and Stonehard.

Another road to the Stone is through Minestead by a footpath which
crosses Mr. Compton’s park, dotted with cottages, each with its garden
full in the summer and autumn of flowers—yellow Aaron-rods, pink
candy-tufts, colchicums, and marigolds, and tall sheaves of grey
Michaelmas daisies.

In the village stands “The Faithful Servant,” copied from the well-known
picture at Winchester College. A little farther on we ascend Stoneycross
Hill, the village orchards full of Mary-apples and Morrisses mingling
their blossoms, in the spring, with the green Forest oaks. As we reach
the top, suddenly there opens out one long view. On the north-east rise
the hills beyond Winchester; but the “White City” is hidden in their
valley. To the east lies Southampton, with its houses by the water-side;
and to the north, across the woods of Prior’s Acre, gleam the green
Wiltshire downs lit up by the sunlight.

Close to us, among its beeches, lies Castle Malwood, with its single
trench and Forest lodge, where tradition and poets say Rufus feasted
before his death; and down in the valley stands the Stone which marks
the spot where he is said to have fallen.

It will be as well to repeat the story, as told by the two Chroniclers
who give the fullest account, with all its omens and apparitions. The
King had gone to bed on the evening of the 1st of August, and was
suddenly awoke by a fearful vision. He dreamt that he was bled, and the
stream of blood, pouring up to heaven, clouded the very day. His
attendants, hearing his cries to the Virgin, rushed in with lights, and
stayed with him all that night. Morning dawned: and Robert Fitz Hamon,
his special friend, came to him with another dream, dreamt also that
very night by a foreign monk then staying at the court, who had seen the
King enter a church, and there seize the rood, tearing apart its legs
and arms. For a time the image bore the insult, but suddenly struck the
King. He fell, and flames and smoke issued from his mouth, putting out
the light of the stars. The Red King’s courage, however, had by this
time returned. With a laugh, he cried, “He is a monk, and dreams for
money like a monk: give him this,” handing Fitz Hamon a hundred
shillings. Still the two dreams had their effect, and William hesitated
to test their truth.[114] At dinner that day he drank more than usual.
His spirits once more returned. He defied the dreams. In spite of their
warnings, he determined to hunt. As he was preparing, his armourer
approached with six brand-new arrows. Choosing out two, he cried, as he
gave them to Walter Tiril, Lord of Poix and Pontoise, who had lately
come from Normandy, “The best arrows to the best marksman.” The small
hunting-party, consisting of his brother Henry, William of Breteuil,
Walter Tiril, and Fitz Hamon, and a few more, set out. As they are
leaving the courtyard, a monk from St. Peter’s Abbey at Gloucester
arrives. He gives the King a letter from Serlo, the abbot. It told how a
monk of that abbey had dreamt that he had seen the Saviour and all the
host of heaven standing round the great white throne. Then, too, came
the Virgin robed in light, and flung herself at the feet of her Son, and
prayed Him, by his precious blood and agony on the cross, to take pity
on the English; prayed Him, too, as He was judge of all men, and avenger
of all wickedness, to punish the King. The Saviour answered her, “You
must be patient and wait: due retribution will in time befall the
wicked.” The King read it and laughed. “Does Serlo,” he asked, “think
that I believe the visions of every snoring monk? Does he take me for an
Englishman, who puts faith in the dreams of every old woman?”[115] With
this the party once more sets out into the Forest, the woods still green
with all their deep summer foliage.

So they hunted all that noon and afternoon. The sun was now setting.
Tiril and the King were alone.[116] A stag bounded by: the King shot and
slightly wounded the quarry. On, though, it still bounded in the full
light of the setting sun. The King stood watching it, shading his eyes
with his hands. At that moment another deer broke cover. Tiril this time
shot, and the shaft lodged itself in the King’s breast.[117] He fell
without a word or groan, vainly trying to pull out the arrow, which
broke short in his hand.

Thus perished William the Red. Tiril leapt on his horse. Henry galloped
to Winchester, and the other nobles to their houses. One exception was
there. William of Breteuil, following hard upon Henry to Winchester,
honourably declared the rights of the absent Robert, to whom both Henry
and himself had sworn fealty. William’s body was brought on a cart to
the cathedral, the blood from his wound reddening the road.[118] There
the next morning[119] he was buried, unlamented, unknelled, and
unaneled.[120]

    [Illustration: Rufus’s Stone.]

So runs the story as told by the Chroniclers. And to this day popular
tradition not only repeats their tale, but points to the places
associated with the event. Below our feet lies the lonely glen of
Canterton, where the King is said to have fallen. The oak from which, as
the legend runs, the arrow glanced, is long since dead, but a stone
marks its site, now capped over with a hideous cast-iron case.[121] In
the woods and in the village of Minestead still live some of the
descendants of Purkess, who is reported to have carried the bleeding
corpse in his charcoal-cart to Winchester along the road now known as
the King’s Road. Twelve miles away, on the extreme south-west boundary
of the Forest, close to the Avon, stands a smithy, on the site of the
one where, the legend says, Walter Tiril’s horse was shod, and which,
for that reason, to this day pays a yearly fine to the Crown: and the
water close by, where the fugitive passed, is still called Tyrrel’s
Ford. And Rufus lies in Winchester Cathedral, his bones now mixed with
those of Canute; and under a marble tomb, in the south aisle of the
presbytery, sleeps his brother Richard, slain also like himself in the
Forest.

So runs the story, unquestioned save here and there by some few faint
doubts.[122] As to the tradition, I think we may at once set aside its
testimony. The value of mere tradition in history weighs, or ought to
weigh, nothing. Here and there tradition may be true in a very general
sense, as when it says the Isle of Wight was once joined to Hampshire;
but it is never particular in its dates, and is ever in too much hurry
to compare facts. Tradition, as often as not, kills the murderer instead
of the murdered; and makes the man who built the place to have been born
there. Tradition is, in fact, the history of the vulgar, and the
stumbling-block of the half-learned.

We will look at the broader bearings of the case. The first thing which
strikes us is the fact that two other very near relatives of the Red
King, his brother and his nephew, also lost their lives by so-called
accidents in the New Forest. If we are to believe the Chroniclers, his
brother Richard met his death whilst hunting there, according to one
narrative, by a pestilential blast—surely, at the least, a very
unsatisfactory account;[123] though, by another version, from the
effects of a blow against a tree.[124] His nephew Richard was either
wounded by an arrow through the neck, or caught by the boughs of a tree
and strangled—a still more improbable death;[125] whilst, according to
Florence of Worcester, he was killed by the arrow of one of his own
knights.[126] We will only here pause to notice not only the extreme
improbability, but the contradictory statements in both cases, which
will not, of course, increase the value of the same evidence concerning
Rufus.[127]

And now we will examine the version of his death. History is at all
times subjective enough, but becomes far more so when written by
unfriendly Chroniclers, who have good reasons for suppressing the truth.
The story reads at the very first glance too much like a romance. In the
first place, we have no less than three dreams, which are always effects
rather than causes—after-thoughts rather than prophecies, well fitted to
suit the superstition of the times, and to deceive the crowd. Then, too,
we find the old device of the armourer craving the King to take six
brand-new arrows, by one of which at the hand of his friend he is fated
to fall on the very spot which his father had laid waste, and where he
is said to have destroyed a church.

It may of course be urged that all this is in accordance with what we
know of the eternal power of the moral laws, that the sins of the
fathers are ever visited upon the sons to the third and fourth
generations, and that time ever completes the full circle of
retribution. But the flaw is, that this special judgment is too special.
“Divine vengeance” and “judgment of God,” the Chroniclers cry out one
after another, and this is thought sufficient to account for three
so-called accidental deaths. The moral laws, however, never fall so
directly as they are here represented. Their influence is more oblique.
The lightning of justice does not immediately follow each peal of
suffering.

Leaving, however, the Chroniclers’ views to themselves, let us look
further at some of the facts which peep out in the narrative. Why, in
the first place, we naturally ask, if the King was shot by accident, did
his friends and attendants desert him? Why was he brought home in a
cart, drawn by a wretched jade, the blood, not even staunched, flowing
from the wound, clotting the dust on the road? Why, too, the indecent
haste of his funeral? Why, afterwards, was no inquiry as to his death
made? Why, too, was Tiril’s conduct not investigated? These questions
are difficult to answer, except upon one supposition.

Let us note, also, that they are all ecclesiastics, to whom the
revelations of the King’s speedy end had been made known, and that their
special favourite, Henry, succeeded to the throne in spite of his elder
brother’s right. It is, certainly, too, something more than singular
that when the banished Anselm should visit Hugh, Abbot of Cluny, that
the Abbot should tell him that during the past night he had seen William
summoned before God and sentenced to damnation, and that the King’s
death immediately followed: that further, on the next day, when he went
to Lyons, his chaplain should be twice told by a youth of the death of
William before it took place.[128] More than singular, too, are those
words of Fulchered, spoken so openly and so daringly, “The bow of God’s
vengeance is bent against the wicked; and the arrow swift to wound is
already drawn out of the quiver.”[129]

Either all these persons were prophets, or accessories to the murder,
or—for there is one more solution—the Chroniclers invented this portion
of the story. If we admit this last supposition, we cannot receive the
other parts of the narrative without the greatest suspicion. We have
almost a sufficient warrant to read them in an exactly opposite sense to
what they were intended to bear.

Let us remember, also, that Flambard, Rufus’s prime minister, who was
universally hated by the clergy, and who had lately banished Godric, of
Christchurch, into Normandy, was instantly stripped of his possessions
by Henry, and Godric reinstated, and the banished Anselm recalled; and,
lastly, and most important of all, that Tiril, who had just arrived from
Normandy, was a friend of Anselm’s,[130] and, further, that Alanus de
Insulis, better known as le Docteur Universel, who lived not long after
the event, actually says that in his opinion it was caused by
treachery.[131] Surely all these facts and coincidences point but one
way. All tend to show, as plainly as possible, that Rufus fell by no
chance, but by a conspiracy of his prelates, who held the crozier in
one, and the battle-axe in the other hand.[132] The cause of their
hatred is at once supplied by his refusing to pay St. Peter’s
pence—denying the Pope’s supremacy—banishing Anselm—promoting
Flambard—holding all the bishoprics and other offices which fell
vacant[133]—by his cruelties to their different orders at Canterbury and
Crowland, and throughout England, whose enmity died not with his death,
but made them believe that the tower of Winchester Cathedral fell
because they allowed him to be buried in its nave.

Reading, in the Chroniclers, the life of the Red King seems like rather
reading a series of plots against it, not by the English, who were too
thoroughly cowed to make the slightest resistance, but by his own
prelates and barons.[134] His uncle Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, headed the
first rebellion against him, as soon as he usurped the throne. William,
Bishop of Durham, his own Minister, conspired against him. Bishop
Gosfrith, with his nephew Robert, Earl of Northumberland, rebelled in
the west. Roger Montgomery rose on the Welsh Marches. Roger Bigod in the
eastern, and Hugo of Grentemesnil in the Midland Counties hoisted the
flag of revolt.[135] Such was England at the beginning of his reign. In
1096, his own godfather, William of Aldrey, justly or unjustly, was
accused of treason, and died on the gallows.[136] William, Count of Eu,
kinsman to the King, suffered a worse fate for the same crime. His
steward, William, also a kinsman of the King’s, was hung on a rood.
Eudes, Count of Champagne, forfeited his lands. Others not only shared
the same fate, but were deprived of their eyesight.[137] His northern
barons, headed by Robert of Mowbray, goaded to desperation by the Forest
Laws, rose in revolt. Roger of Yvery, son of the Conqueror’s favourite,
led the Midland barons, and was obliged to fly, and all his vast
estates, close to the New Forest, forfeited. Normandy, from whence Tiril
had just come, swarmed with outlawed enemies, both churchmen and laymen.
It was the nest where all the plots could be safely hatched.

Knowing all this, knowing, too, that the conspiracies became more
frequent as his tyranny increased, we can scarcely avoid coming to but
one conclusion as to his death.

It might suit the policy of the times to throw the guilt on Tiril, but
Tiril certainly did not shoot the arrow. We have his own most solemn
declaration to various people, and especially, not once but often, to
Suger, the well-known Abbot of St. Denis, when he had nothing to gain or
lose, that he had on the day of the King’s death not only not entered
that part of the Forest, but had not so much as even seen him.[138]

Tiril, however, was certainly implicated in the plot. His haste to leave
the country arose, probably, not so much from a wish to escape as to
convey the news of the success to Normandy: and popular tradition
mistaking the cause, with its usual inaccuracy, fixed on the wrong
person as the assassin. In after years, however, from some scruple of
conscience, he expiated his share in the murder by a pilgrimage to the
Holy Land.

Who shot the fatal arrow we know not, and, perhaps, shall never know. We
must not expect to get truth in history,—only, at the best, some faint
glimmering. All is here confusion and darkness. John of Salisbury, who
lived about the middle of the twelfth century, says it was as little
known who killed the King as who slew Julian the Apostate.[139] The very
spot where he fell is doubtful. One thing, however, seems certain, that
he was slain, not, as the Chroniclers say, because his father made the
New Forest, but through his own cruelties and excesses, by which he
outraged both friend and foe.

It is not single passages which alone leave this impression, but still
more the cumulative force of the evidence. The fact that all were
gainers by his death, and the general abhorrence of the tyrant, are in
themselves strong reasons. Not one, but all parties were bound together
against him by the strongest of covenants—hatred. The marked and bitter
prophecies, which would not have been uttered were not their fulfilment
ensured,—the suspicious silence on all important points,—the pretended
dreams and omens,—the abandonment of the body,—the want of any inquiry
into the cause of death,—the connection between the Church party and
Anselm with Henry I., and Anselm’s connection again with Tiril, all
serve to show the depth and darkness of the plot.

His life throws the best light on his death. Read by it, by the
extortions and atrocities which he committed, by the universal hatred in
which he was held, the conclusion is inevitable. Years of violence were
the prelude to a violent end. The many failures in open revolt seem only
to have taught the lesson of greater caution. And treachery at last
succeeded, where plain courage had so often failed.

Direct proof of the murder cannot be had, and must not be expected.
Every one was interested in keeping that a secret by which all alike
profited. To have declared it, would have covered the Crown with
disgrace, and stained the hands of the Church.

Their own absurdities and contradictions form the best refutation of the
common accounts. In details they are irreconcilable with each other.
According to one, the King was alone with Tiril; to another, with all
his attendants. One narrative declares that the arrow glanced from a
boar, a second from a stag, a third from a tree. Even if we accept them,
then either the power of prophecy lasted much longer than is commonly
supposed, or, as we have said, the clergy were accessories to the
murder;—we have no other choice. The last of these solutions is fatal to
the common belief; and very few persons would, I suppose, venture upon
the first. Nevertheless, the monk of Gloucester’s dream was not yet to
be fulfilled. The hour was not yet at hand for England’s deliverance. As
the Parliamentary party said in Charles the First’s time—“Things must
become worse before they can mend.” England had, therefore, to undergo a
tyranny for more than a century longer—till the evil became its own
cure. Good was at length accomplished. Out of all the woe and
wretchedness came the Bill of Rights and the Charta de Forestâ.

    [Illustration: View from Castle Malwood.]




                               CHAPTER X.
    THE NORTHERN PART.—STONEY-CROSS, BRAMBLE HILL, FRITHAM, BENTLEY,
                           EYEWORTH, SLODEN.


    [Illustration: View in Studley Wood.]

If any one wishes to know the beauty of the Forest in autumn, let him
see the view from the high ridge at Stoney-Cross. Here the air blows off
the Wiltshire Downs finer and keener than anywhere else. Here, on all
sides, stretch woods and moors. Here, in the latter end of August, the
three heathers, one after another, cover every plain and holt with their
crimson glory, mixed with the flashes of the dwarf furze. And a little
later the maples are dyed, yellow and russet, by the autumn rains, and
the beeches are scorched to a fiery red with the first frost, and the
oaks renew, but deeper and more gloriously, the golden lights of spring,
till the great woods of Prior’s Acre and Daneshill burn with colour;
every gleam of sunshine, and every passing shadow, touching them with
fresher and stranger beauty.

To the east, about two miles along the Southampton Road, lies the
village of Cadenham, famous for its oak, which, like the Glastonbury
thorn, buds on Christmas Eve. The popular tradition in the neighbourhood
runs, that, as the weather is harder, it shows more leaves, and,
refusing the present chronology, only buds on Old Christmas night. As in
most things, there is some little truth in the story. Doubtless, in some
of the mild winters which visit Hampshire, the tree shows a few buds, as
at that time I have seen others do in various parts of the Forest. Of
course, they are all nipped by the first approach of severe weather,
which, however, seldom happens on the warm south-west coast till the new
year.

Down in the valley to the left of Rufus’s Stone rise the woods of the
Long Beeches, and Prior’s Acre, and Daneshill or Dean’s Hell, where the
word Hell (from _helan_, to cover) means nothing more than the dark
place, like the Hellbecks in Yorkshire.[140] Beaten paths and walks
stretch into the woods in every direction. Perhaps one of the prettiest
is over Coalmeer Brook, and then through the thick beeches of Coalmeer
Wood, where the honey buzzard builds, till we come to the King’s Gairn
stream, where the Bracklesham Clays, teeming with fossils, may, by
digging, be reached.[141]

Brook Common now opens before us. At its farther end stands Brook Wood,
with its fine hollies and durmast oaks (_Quercus sessiliflora_). Passing
the High Beeches to our left, we reach Shepherd’s Gutter, a small
stream, where the Bracklesham beds again crop out with their blue and
slate-coloured clays.

Going on through more woods, and then by clumps of old hollies and yews,
we come to Bramble Hill. Perhaps, just above the Lodge, on the top of
the hill, we gain the most extensive view of the Forest. Before us
spreads one vast sea of woods, broken in the front by Malwood Ridge, and
Brochis Hill, and then rolling its flood of green over Minestead Valley,
and rising again wave-like, at Whitley, till lost among the moors,
whilst the Isle of Wight hills seam the blue sky with their dark
outlines.

The village of Bramshaw, just a little way beyond, stands partly in both
Hampshire and Wiltshire, and forms the Forest boundary. From its woods
in former times the shingles for roofing Salisbury Cathedral were cut.
Its church, although prettily situated, is scarcely worth seeing. Only
an Early-English window at the east end, and an arch on the south side,
remain of the old building, now defaced by every variety of modern
ugliness. In the churchyard stands a fine yew; and a buttress on the
north side is completely covered with the lovely common spleenwort.

    [Illustration: View in Puckpits.]

Coming back, however, to Stoney-Cross, we will now go westward.
Stoney-Cross itself consists of but a few tumbledown cottages, inhabited
principally by the Forest workmen. Just beyond the last of them let us
stop for a moment. To the south stretch more woods—Stonehard, with its
views across the valley, to the oaks of Wick and the plain of Acres
Down, looking over Rhinefield and the valley of the Osmanby Ford, beyond
Wootton, to the Needle Rocks, mass upon mass of woods. To the right of
it lies Puckpits, where the badger breeds, and the raven used to build,
and where still on a summer morning the honey buzzard comes flying up
from Mark Ash, and, circling for hours round the trees, will again fly
back to its favourite haunt.

All these woods there are for rambles, flushed in the spring with
wood-anemones and wood-sorrel, set in the green moss and the greener
heather of the bilberry. Nowhere, too, in the Forest, than in these
woods, have I seen more lovely sunsets. Through some deep-cut oriel of
the trees have I watched the sun begin to sink, each moment burning
brighter, and then suddenly its great brand of fire would fall,
reddening each tree trunk, and crimson billows of clouds come rolling
eastward.

Instead of following the Ringwood Road, beautiful as that is in many
parts, especially at Woody Bratley, with its old thorn trees, we will
turn off to the right. To the west now rises Ocknell Wood, and its clump
of firs, a well-known landmark, and beyond that lies the new Slufter
Inclosure, and Bratley Plain, with its great graveyard of barrows. In
front of us stretches the East Fritham Plain, with its three barrows,
locally called “butts,” the central known as Reachmore. At the second
mound we will go into North Bentley Wood, following the wood-cutter’s
track. Very wild and unfrequented is this. Here a stray deer will bound
across the road; and sometimes a small herd of as many as six or seven
are browsing on the ivy clinging to some tree just felled, startled at
the slightest sound, and trooping off down the glades. The grey hen
rises up at our feet from the heather; and, as we enter the wood, the
woodpecker shrieks out his shrill laugh, whilst a buzzard is heavily
sailing over the trees.

The road winds on through the valley amongst oaks flecked with silver
flakes of moss, broken here and there by open glades and green spaces of
fern. At last, we reach Queen’s North Lawn, which leads us on the right
to Fritham, standing on the hill top. In the valley below lies Eyeworth
Lodge, with the powder mills lately built; the Ivare of _Domesday_, and
still so called by the peasantry, afterwards _Yvez_, where Roger
Beteston, in the reign of Henry III., held some land by the service of
finding litter for the King’s bed and hay for his horse whenever he came
here to hunt.[142]

Fritham is thoroughly in the Forest; and few spots can equal it in
interest. It may be the very place where Rufus fell:[143] but whether or
no, close round it lie the barrows of the Kelt, and the potteries of the
Roman, covering acres of ground, at Island’s Thorn and Crockle, and
Sloden and Black Bar, with the banks which mark the sites of the
workmen’s houses.[144] Close round it, too, encircling it on all sides,
rise the woods of Studley, with their great beeches, and Eyeworth,
famous for its well. Going along the West Fritham Plain we come to
Sloden, with its thick wood of yews, standing, massive and black, in all
their depth of foliage, mixed, in loveliest contrast, with clumps of
whitebeams. Below runs the brook, flowing under Amberwood, and winding
among dark groups of hollies, lost at last in the deep gorge, shut in by
the hills of Goreley and Charlford.

The best way to reach Fordingbridge is either to go by Ashley Lodge, and
so through Pitt’s Wood, and between the high, bare, half mountainous
hills of Chilly and Blissford, coming out upon the turnpike-road near
Blissford Gate; or to follow the side of the Amberwood stream towards
some scattered houses, called Ogdens.

Here we leave the Forest, and its moors and woods, and, mounting Goreley
Hill, see below us the church of Fordingbridge, and the Avon winding
among its meadows. To the south Hengistbury Head lifts itself up in the
distant horizon; and beyond it again, but more to the west, stretches
the blue line of the Portland Hills. To the north swell the rounded
forms of the Wiltshire downs, and the spire of Salisbury starts out from
the midst, and behind it towers the mound of Old Sarum.

    [Illustration: Yews and Whitebeams in Sloden.]




                              CHAPTER XI.
  THE VALLEY OF THE AVON.—FORDINGBRIDGE, CHARFORD, BREAMORE, IBBESLEY,
                      ELLINGHAM, RINGWOOD, SOPLEY.


    [Illustration: The Valley of the Avon from Castle Hill.]

The Valley of the Avon should certainly be seen, both because large
parts of its manors and villages once stood in the Forest, as also for
the contrast which it now affords to the neighbouring Forest scenery.
Nothing can be so different to the moors we have just left as the
Valley. Though close to them, you might imagine you were suddenly
transported into one of the Midland Counties, and were walking by the
side of the Warwickshire, instead of the Wiltshire Avon. In the place of
wild heathery commons and furzy holts, deep lanes wind along by
comfortable homesteads, thatched with Dorsetshire reed. Instead, too, of
dark oak and beech woods, thick hedges are white in the spring with the
scattered spray of the blackthorn, and orchards glow with their crimson
wreaths of flowers.

Fordingbridge, formerly nothing else but Forde, now known to all
fishermen for its pike and trout, in former days held the high-road into
the Forest. On the bridge the lord of the manor, during the fence
months, was obliged to mount guard, and stop all suspected persons, who
could only on the north-west leave the Forest this way.[145]

In _Domesday_ its manor possessed a church and two mills, rented at
14_s._ 2_d._ Though all its beech and oak woods, worth, on account of
the pannage for swine, 20_s._ a year, were afforested, only three
virgates of land were taken. Yet, notwithstanding this loss, it still
paid the same rental as in Edward the Confessor’s reign.

The old hospital, dedicated to St. John, was dissolved by Henry VI., and
its revenues annexed to St. Cross, near Winchester.[146] The church
stands on the extreme south-west side of the town, with its avenue of
limes, and its yews, now spoilt by being clipt. The windows of the nave
are Early Decorated, whilst those of the clerestory are Perpendicular.
Against the north pillar of the south chancel arch is fixed a late
brass. The upper part of the east window is spoilt by its ugly Tudor
headings, and the lower portion by the Commandment tables. The
high-pitched open Perpendicular roof of the north chancel, however,
possesses some real interest, both on account of its height and its
richness of detail,—the tie-beams faced with mouldings, and the spaces
above ornamented with tracery, and the braces below also carved, and the
purlins enriched with bosses, whilst carved projecting figures bear up
the whole.

Before, however, the traveller leaves Fordingbridge he should go to
Sandyballs and Castle Hill, where are still the remains of a camp, and
traces of habitations, probably used in turn by Kelts, Romans, and
West-Saxons, and where, perhaps, Ambrosius entrenched himself before the
battle of Charford. From here is one of the best views of the Valley.
Behind us stands Godshill inclosure, and the Forest with its dark moors
and woods. Below winds the Avon, with its orchards nestling on the hill
side, stretching its silver coil of waters along the green meadows, the
sunlight gleaming on each bend and turn.

Looking up the stream, the village of Wood Green, and the woods of Hale,
and the two Charfords, one by one appear. Charford is especially
noticeable, formerly Cerdeford, without doubt the Cerdices-ford of _The
Chronicle_ and of Florence. Here it was for the last time that the
gallant Ambrosius Aurelianus, Prince Natan-Leod, father of the great
Arthur of Mediæval legends, after his many defeats, rallied the forlorn
hope of the Romanized Kelts. Here, too, he fell on the greensward by the
side of the Avon, with five thousand of his men, and was buried at
Amesbury, which still preserves his name. Of the battle we know
nothing—know only this, that the Keltic power in Wessex was broken, and
that from henceforth the land from Winchester to Charford was called
Natan-lea.[147]

Close to Charford lies Breamore,—the last of the Forest manors to the
north-west mentioned in _Domesday_[148]—with the ruins of its fine
Elizabethan hall, burnt down only a few years since, and its church
standing in a graveyard full of old yews and laurels. The church has
been most shamefully disfigured—stuccoed outside, and whitewashed
within. Still it is worth seeing. A Norman doorway, another proof that
the Conqueror did not destroy every church in the district, stands
inside the south porch. A piscina, and brackets for images, still remain
in the chancel.

Returning to Fordingbridge we pass through Burgate, formerly belonging
to Beaulieu Abbey, where the dogs of the Lord of the Manor, like those
of the Abbot of the Monastery, were allowed to go “unlawed.” The base of
the old village cross still remains, but the head was, not long ago,
broken to pieces to mend the roads.

Our way from Fordingbridge lies by the side of the Avon, with the new
chapel of Hyde or Hungerford standing on the top of the Forest range of
hills. The road soon brings us to Ibbesley, the prettiest of villages in
the Valley, with its cottages by the road-side, and their gardens of
roses and poppies and sweet pease, and their porches thatched with
honeysuckle. Three great elms overhang the river, spanned by the single
arch of its bridge; whilst the stream pours sparkling and foaming over
the weir into the water-meadows, and in the distance the tower of
Harbridge rises out from its trees.

The sketch which is given at the end of this chapter is taken lower down
in the fields, and shows another view not so well known. But the whole
river is here full of beauty, winding, scarce knowing where, among the
flat meadows, one stream flowing one way, and one another, and then all
suddenly uniting, coming up with their joined force against the steep
banks, dark in the shade of the trees; and, being repulsed, flowing away
again into the meadows, white with flocks of swans, and fenced in by
green hedges of rushes and yellow flags.

Going on we reach the avenue of elms which brings us to the Ellingham
cross roads. Turning up the lane to the left we presently come to Moyles
Court, just on the boundary of the Forest, looking out upon the woods of
Newlyns and Chartley. Here lived Alice Lisle, and here are shown the
hiding-places where, after the battle of Sedgemoor, she concealed Hicks
and Nelthorpe. The house is sadly out of repair; the oak floors, and
part of the fine old staircase, and the wainscoting of many of the rooms
have been taken away; the old tapestry is destroyed and the iron gates
rusted and broken. Still the private chapel remains, with its panelling
and carved string-course of heads, and its “Ecce Homo” over the place
where the altar once stood.[149]

The story of Alice Lisle needs not to be told. She was found guilty of
high treason not by the jury, but by the judge,—the infamous
Jeffreys,—and was condemned, for an act of Christian kindness, to worse
than a felon’s death.

In Ellingham churchyard, close to the south porch, stands a plain brick
tomb under which she, and her daughter Anne Hartell, lie, with the
simple words, “Alicia Lisle dyed the second of September, 1685;” and
round the tomb, weaving its ever green chaplet, grows the little
rue-leaved spleenwort.

But a nobler monument has been raised to her in our Houses of
Parliament. In the Commons’ corridor she stands, bent with age, resting
on her staff, with a gentle placidness shining in her face, unmoved by
any fears for the future, but caring only to do what her heart feels to
be right; whilst on the opposite wall, painted by the same hand, lives
another of those Englishwomen of whom we may be proud,—Jane Lane, who,
in her loyalty, would as willingly have sacrificed herself for one of
the most ungrateful of princes, as Alice Lisle for the poor Puritans.

And about eight miles away, across the Avon, in Dorsetshire, between two
fields on Woodlands Farm, runs an old-fashioned double hedge, the
central ditch choked up with hazel, and holly, and the common brake.
About midway down, half in the ditch and half in the hedge, stands a
pollarded ash, now bored into holes by the woodpeckers. This is
Monmouth’s Ash, and close to it, in the ditch, the duke, the miserable
cause of so much misery, was seized, hid among the fern and
brambles.[150]

To the ecclesiologist the little church of Ellingham (Adeling’s hamlet)
is full of interest. Within stands the old covered carved pew of Moyles
Court, and a monument to one of its former owners. The plain
rood-screen, with the stand for the hour-glass, and the marks of the
pulpit still remain, formerly, as we can still see, painted blue like
the chancel. On the south wall traces of the staircase to the rood-loft,
as well as the entrance from the outside, are also still visible. In the
chancel the Early-English windows have been sadly mutilated. Over the
communion-table hangs a picture of the Day of Judgment, plundered from
some church in Port St. Mary, in the Bay of Cadiz, whose bad execution
is only exceeded by its indecent materialism. In the south chancel wall
is a double piscina. On the walls above the rood-screen, the
twenty-first verse of the twenty-fourth chapter of Proverbs, and the
twenty-fourth verse of the third chapter of Galatians, according to the
version of the Geneva Bible, are roughly painted.[151]

As in all the other churches of the district, the churchwardens have
here from time to time shown their natural attachment to ugliness. The
Early-English triplet at the east end has been blocked up, the
gravestones in the chancel defaced, and a brick porch patched on at the
south side.

The road now winds on by low water-meadows, pastured by herds of cattle,
past Blashford Green, till we reach Ringwood, the Rinwede of
_Domesday_.[152] Here, at the Grammar School, was Stillingfleet
educated. Here Monmouth wrote his three craven letters to James, the
Queen Dowager, and the Lord Treasurer, imploring them to save that life
which it was a disgrace to own.

The old church has been pulled down, and a new one, modelled in every
particular after it, has been built on its site. A church ought
doubtless to tell its own date by its style. Yet it is far better that
we should copy a moderately good specimen than increase the number of
modern abortions. At all events, this is faithfully restored, though
utterly spoilt by the heavy galleries which flank it on every side. The
Early-English chancel, with its recessed arcade, springing from polished
shafts of black Purbeck marble, well shows the beauty of the original
design; whilst, on the chancel floor, lies a fine brass of the fifteenth
century to John Prophete, which, however, has been most shamefully
defaced. The body is robed in a cope broidered with figures of
saints—St. Michael, and the Virgin and Child, St. Peter and St. Paul,
St. Catharine and St. Faith, St. George and St. Wenefride. The head,
with the hood thrown back, rests on a cushion, whilst the cope is
clasped with a morse, enriched with an effigy of the Saviour, crowned
with a halo of light.

    [Illustration: The Avon at Ibbesley.]




                              CHAPTER XII.
 THE VALLEY OF THE AVON CONTINUED.—TYRREL’S FORD, SOPLEY, AND WINKTON.


    [Illustration: Tyrrel’s Ford.]

After we leave Ringwood the road for a mile or two is less attractive in
its scenery. Still, here, as in every part of England, there is
something to be seen and learnt. The Avon flows close by, famous for a
peculiar eel, locally called the “sniggle” (_Anguilla mediorostris_),
which differs from its common congener (_acutirostris_) in its slender
form and elongated under-jaw, and its habits of roving and feeding by
day.[153] The river has, also, like some of the Norwegian streams, the
peculiarity of forming ground ice.[154] For the botanist, along the
hedge banks, the blue and slate-coloured soapwort is growing throughout
the summer and autumn, with purple cat-mint and wild clary. In the waste
places the thorn-apple shows its white blossoms; whilst red stacks of
fern and black turf ricks stand by every cottage door to remind us how
close we are to the Forest.

After we pass Bisterne,[155] the road becomes more interesting. To our
right rises the range of St. Catherine’s Hills, that is, the fortified
height, where remain the four mounds of the watch-towers and the traces
of the camp. Presently we come to Avon-Tyrrel and the blacksmith’s
forge, built on the spot where Tiril’s horse is said to have been shod,
and which pays a yearly fine of three pounds and ten shillings to
Government.

The actual Ford itself is some little way from the road. Round it
stretch meadows, with strong coarse grass and sedgy weeds, branches of
the Avon winding here and there, fringed by willows, the main stream
flowing out broad and strong, with islands of osiers and rushes, where
still breed wild duck and teal, the whole backed by the gloom of St.
Catherine’s Hills crested by their darker pines. The old road, used now
only by the turf-cutters, crossing the former mill-brook, follows the
bed of one of the many streams, till, reaching the river at its widest
part, it bends across, gaining a lane on the opposite side, which leads
away past Ramsdown into Dorsetshire, and along which tradition says the
knight rode to Poole.

The next village we reach is Sopley, that is the _soc leag_, land with
the liberty of holding a court of _socmen_; just as the neighbouring
village is called Boghamton (_bócland_), the village of the
charter-land, or, as we should now say, freehold. Its interesting little
cruciform church, Early-English and Perpendicular, is dedicated to St.
Michael. The Avon flows below, and the old manor-house, now a mere
cottage, stands in an adjoining meadow. On the deep north porch rests
the archangel, on a corbel head. The fine old oak roof of the nave was
covered up some sixty or seventy years ago by a plastered ceiling; but
the corbel figures, playing the double pipe and viol, are still
standing. In the north aisle are the heads of Edward III. and his queen.
Two brackets for images project from the window in the north transept,
whose jambs, now whitewashed over, were once painted with frescoes of
the mystical vine, in green and red. Here, in the north wall, too, is an
aumbrie, whilst the broken stone stairs to the rood-loft still remain.
In the south transept a hagioscope, now walled up, looked into the
chancel, where, on the floor, lie two Early Decorated figures, formerly
placed in tombs under the rood-loft, and traditionally said to have been
brought from a church at Ripley. In the east window burns the fiery
beacon of the Comptons.

Here, too, the whole of the church has been most impartially, and, I may
add, successfully defaced. Everywhere has a snowstorm of whitewash
fallen. I know not why we in these days should think that God delights
in ugliness. Our forefathers at least thought not so. It would be well
if for a moment we would consider how He adorns his own house, leads the
green arabesque of ivy over its walls, and brightens the roof with the
silver rays of mosses, and crowns each buttress with the aureole of the
lichen.

Leaving Sopley, we come to Winkton, the Weringetone of _Domesday_, where
stood two mills, which were rented, as we have seen was often the case,
by a payment of eels.

The views here are full of quiet beauty; the river winding along between
its green walls of rushes, set with white and purple comfrey and yellow
loosestrife, flowing into the darkness of the trees, and then again
coming out by meadows, across which rises the Priory Church of
Christchurch, standing out clear and sharp against the dark mass of
Hengistbury Head.

    [Illustration: The Avon at Winkton.]




                             CHAPTER XIII.
                             CHRISTCHURCH.


    [Illustration: The Priory Church from the Castle Keep.]

I have determined to give a chapter to Christchurch, not because it
contains more than many another town, but because it is a fair
representative of the generality of small English boroughs. There is not
a town in England, dating from even the Middle Ages, which is not full
of interest peculiarly its own, and which does not possess memorials of
the past which no other place can show. It has been proposed, by a no
mean authority, to teach history by paintings and cartoons. But history
is already painted for us on our city walls, and written for us upon our
gates and crumbling castles. Our towns are in themselves the best texts
upon history. For what we have seen with our eyes, and touched with our
hands, leaves a more vivid and more lasting impression than the closest
study of libraries of histories.

Further, the picture of a mediæval town, as given in its own archives,
with its own legislation, its peculiar manufacture, or import, forms, to
some extent, the true social picture of the times. Its history
reflects—and not faintly—the history of the day. Christchurch was never
a town of sufficient importance to show all this in its municipal
records. Yet, too, we shall see that they in another way are, like the
town itself, full of interest. From a modern point of view there is
nothing to be seen beyond three or four straggling streets and its
manufactory of fusee watch-chains—the only one in England. All its
interest and associations lie with the past. The country round it, too,
is equally bound up with that same past. To the north rises St.
Catherine’s Hill, which we saw from the valley of the Avon, with its
oval and square camps, and rampart and double vallum, crested with the
mounds of its Roman watch-towers. The river Stour winds along between
rows of barrows. Hengistbury Head is still fortified by its vast
earthworks, and entrenched by deep ditches from the Avon to the
sea.[156] Here the Britons saw the first swarm of fugitive Belgæ land
and spread themselves along the rich valleys of Dorsetshire.[157] Here,
centuries afterwards, the West-Saxons watched the raven—standard of the
Danes scouring down the Channel, and knew their course along the coast,
at night, by the blaze of burning villages, and, in the day, by the
black trail of smoke.[158]

But to return to the town. Its Old-English names, Tweonea and
Twinham-burn, were given to it from its situation between the rivers
Avon and Stour. They were afterwards corrupted into the Norman Thuinam;
which was lost in the name of its Priory, overshadowing the town with
its magnificence.

Here, in 901, came Æthelwald the Ætheling, son of Æthered, in his
rebellion against his cousin Edward the Elder, and seized the place.
From Christchurch he fell back upon Wimborne, which he fortified,
exclaiming he would do one of two things, “Either there live, or there
lie.” That same night he fled to Northumberland.[159]

From _Domesday_ we find that its manor was held in demesne by the
Conqueror, as also by Edward the Confessor, with a mill renting for
5_s._, whilst another, belonging to the Church, was worth but 30_d._,
and that thirty-one tenements in the borough paid a rent of 16_d._ Its
woods, only, were inclosed in the Forest.

The manor remained in the hands of the Crown till Henry I. bestowed it
on his friend and kinsman Richard de Redvers, Earl of Devon, the ruins
of whose castle still overlook the Avon. Here his son Baldwin de Redvers
in vain fortified himself against Stephen. Here, too, lived his grandson
William de Vernon, who helped to bear the canopy at Richard’s second
coronation at Winchester. Afterwards, the manor passed into the hands of
Isabella de Fortibus, who, on her death-bed, sold it, with all her
possessions, to Edward I., who well knew the value of such a stronghold.
Though Edward II. bestowed the estate on Sir William Montacute, yet the
castle still remained in the hands of the Crown.

It was standing, though no longer a fortification, in the Commonwealth
period. Nothing, however, now remains but the mere shell of the keep,
whose walls are in places four yards thick.[160]

Below it stands what was, perhaps, the house of Baldwin de Redvers, also
in ruins, and roofless, but still a capital specimen of what is so
rarely seen, the true domestic architecture of the twelfth century. Like
all the other remaining houses of this period, it is a simple oblong,
seventy-one feet by twenty-four broad, and only two stories high, placed
for defence on a branch of the Avon, which serves as a moat. On the
south-east it is flanked by a small attached tower, now in ruins, under
which the stream flows. The ground floor was divided in half by a wall,
whilst the outer walls, thicker on the east and south sides, where more
exposed to attacks than on the north and west, are pierced with
deeply-splayed loopholes looking out on the stream. On this side was the
hall, where lord, and guest, and serf, alike ate and drank, and slept on
the floor. The other western half was divided into chambers and cellars,
the kitchen probably standing in the courtyard.

    [Illustration: The Norman House.]

Above, approached by two stone staircases from within, and not, as in
most cases, from without, was the principal dwelling-room, the solar,
lighted on each side by three double lights, carved on their outer
arches with zig-zag and billet mouldings, and on the south by a
circular, and on the north by a fine double window, once richly
ornamented, but now nearly destroyed. The fire-place, the only one in
the house, is set nearly in the centre of the east wall; and above it
still stands, in the place of the old smoke-vent, the beautiful round
chimney, one of the earliest in England, like the fire-place, hid in
ivy.

There seems, however, as in the case of the still older Norman house at
Southampton, to have been no wall-passage connecting the building, as we
might have expected, with the castle; but like it, its entrances, of
which there were three, one opening out upon the stream, were on the
ground floor.[161]

Coming down to later times, the great Lord Clarendon here possessed
large property, and one of his favourite schemes was to make the Avon
navigable to Salisbury. For this purpose it was surveyed by Yarranton,
the hydrographer, who not only reported favourably of the idea, but
proposed to make the harbour an anchorage for men-of-war, bringing
forward the great natural advantages of Hengistbury Head, as also the
facilities of procuring iron in the district, and wood from the New
Forest.[162] All, however, fell to the ground with Clarendon’s exile,
and the harbour is now silted up with sand and choked with weeds.

Nothing else is there to be mentioned, except the visit by Edward VI. to
the town, from whence he wrote a letter to his friend Barnaby
Fitz-Patrick, far superior to most royal letters. The lazar-house, which
stood in the Bargates, has long since been destroyed. The old
market-place has been lately taken down; but in the main street, not far
from the castle keep, remains, lately-restored, one of those timbered
houses so common in the Midland counties and the Weald of Kent, with
their dormer windows and richly-carved bressumers and barge-boards, but
rarer in the West of England.[163] The glory, however, of the town, the
Priory Church, still stands. Before describing it let us give some
account of its history. Its earliest buildings were founded by some of
the secular canons of the order of St. Augustine, probably on a spot
used for worship by the Romans.[164] Mention of it is made in _Domesday_
as existing in Edward the Confessor’s reign, and as possessing five
hydes and one yardland in Thuinam, as also its tithes, and the third of
those of Holdenhurst.[165] The present building, however, dates only
from the time of Flambard, who rebuilt the church, pulling down the
earlier building with its nine cells.[166] And in Henry I.’s reign,
Baldwin de Redvers brought in the regular instead of the secular canons,
and placed them under the first prior, Reginald.

With this change new privileges and grants were made. Riches flowed in
on every side. Not only were the Redvers benefactors, but the
Courtenays, and Wests, and Salisburys, into whose hands the manor of
Christchurch came.[167]

Like most other ecclesiastical buildings, we hear but little of it till
its dissolution. From its state we may be able to judge of the general
condition of the monasteries, and how imperative was the change.

Leland[168] tells us that the Priory possessed but one volume—a small
work on the Old-English laws. Their own accounts show us that the rules
of St. Augustine had long been forgotten. Drunkenness had taken the
place of fasting; and instead of giving they now owed.[169] Tradition,
too, adds that the brethren were known in the town as the “Priory
Lubbers.” To this had the Austin Canons sank. So it was throughout
England. Abbot and poorest brother were alike steeped in sensuality, and
benighted in ignorance.

Of the last prior, John Draper, we catch some faint glimpse in a letter
from Robert Southwell and four other commissioners to Cromwell, dated
from Christchurch, the 2nd of December. He appears to have been a man
who trimmed his course with the breath of authority, utterly selfish,
utterly despicable. Not one word does he appear to have raised on behalf
of his priory. Not one sigh did he utter for the old, nor one aspiration
after the new religion. Thus the commissioners write:—“Our humble
dewties observyd unto y^r gudde Lordeschippe. It may lyke the same to be
advertised that we have taken the surrender of the late priorye of
Christ Churche twynhm̄, wher we founde the prior a very honest,
conformable p̄son, And the howse well furnysshede w^t Jewellys and
plate, whereof som be mete for the King^s majestie is use as A litill
chalys of golde, a gudly lardge crosse doble gylt, w^t the foote
garnyshyd w^t stone and perle, two gudly basuns doble gylt having the
Kings armys well inamyld, a gudly great pyxe for the sacramēt doble
gylt, And ther be also other things of sylv̄, right honest and of gudde
valewe as well for the churche use as for the table resyvyd, and kept to
the Kings use.”[170] Before the Dissolution came, whilst matters still
trembled in the balance—whilst still there was hope that Protection
would, for a little time longer, be given to hypocrisy, and Authority to
sloth, he pleaded with Henry.[171] Now, when all hope was lost, when the
end had arrived, the commissioners compliment him as the “very honest,
conformable person.” Had he previously been in earnest they must have
written very differently. By his conformity he purchased his peace. And
so, after giving up his priory, he was allowed to depart with a pension,
to finish his life as he pleased, at the Prior’s Lodgings at Sumerford
Grange. There he died; and was buried in front of what had been his own
choir; and his chantry still remains in the south choir aisle. Of the
conventual buildings, which stood on the south side of the church,
nothing remains except the fragments of the outer wall and the entrance
lodge, built by Draper, with his initials still carved on the window
label. A modern house stands on the site of the Refectory; and in
digging its foundations, some tombs of the fourth century were
found.[172] Other traces remain only in the names of the places, as
Paradise Walk, by the side of the mill stream, and the Convent meadows,
where, in an adjoining field, are the sites of the fishponds of the
brethren.

The church stands at the south-west of the town, on a rising ground
between the two rivers, its tower alike a seamark to the ships and a
landmark to the Valley. But the first thing which strikes the visitor is
not so much the tower, as the deep, massive north porch, standing right
out from the main building, reaching to its roof, with its high-recessed
arch, and its rich doorways dimly seen, set between clusters of black
Purbeck marble pillars, and ornamented above with a quatrefoiled niche.

Standing here, and looking along the north aisle, the eye rests on the
Norman work of the transept, the low round arches interlacing one
another, their spandrels rich with billet and fishscale mouldings;
whilst beyond rises the Norman turret, banded with its three
string-courses, and enriched with its arcades, the space between them
netted over with coils of twisted cables.

This is true Norman work, such as you can see scarcely anywhere else in
England. And imagine what the church once was—a massive lantern-tower
springing up from the midst, the crown of all this beauty.

Beyond all this lovely Romanesque work, rises the north choir aisle,
with its quatrefoiled parapet, whilst above gleam the traceried windows
of the choir, with their flying buttresses; and beyond them again stands
the Lady Chapel, surmounted by St. Michael’s loft, ugly and vile.

Entering, and standing at the extreme south-west end, we shall see the
massive Norman piers rise in long lines, lightened by their columns, and
relieved by their capitals, the spaces above each arch moulded with the
tooth ornament. Above springs the triforium with its double arches, some
of their pillars wreathed with foliage, the central shafts chequered in
places with network, and woven over with tracery. Above that again runs
the clerestory, now spoilt, whilst an open oak roof, hid by a ceiling,
but once rich with bosses and carved work, encloses all.

To go into details. The porch and north aisle are Early-English, whilst
a Norman arcade runs the whole length of the south aisle. The tower, and
choir, and Lady Chapel, are Perpendicular, and the nave, as far as the
clerestory windows, Norman.

Passing through the rich rood-screen, which, however, sadly blocks up
the way, we reach the choir, with its four traceried windows on either
side, and clustered columns, from which springs its groined roof with
bosses of foliage and pendants bright with gold, whilst the capitals of
the shafts and the quatrefoils of the archivolts are rich with colour.
The stalls are carved with grotesque heads and figures, like those in
the Collegiate Church of the Holy Trinity, at Stratford-upon-Avon.
Before us now stands the lovely reredos, illustrating the words of
Isaiah,—“There shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a
Branch shall grow out of his roots.” Jesse sleeps at the bottom, his
hand supporting his head, whilst David, with his fingers on his
harp-strings, and Solomon, sit on each side, the vine spreading upwards,
bearing its leaf and full fruit in Mary, to whose Son the Wise Men are
offering their presents. Such is the screen, and had the execution been
equal to the design, it would have been the finest in England. The
carving seems, however, never to have been finished, and certainly in
parts only to have been roughly cut by some inferior hand, and never to
have received the last touches of the master-artist. Even now, in its
present condition, it stands before those of Winchester and St. Alban’s,
inferior only to that of St. Mary’s Overie.[173]

Passing on we come to the Lady Chapel, with its traceried roof. Under
the east window are the remnants of another rich screen. The high altar,
too, with its slab of Purbeck marble cut with five crosses, remains,
whilst two recessed altar tombs to Sir Thomas West and his mother stand
in the north and south walls.

But what we should especially see, both for its beauty and its interest,
is the Chantry Chapel, built for her last resting-place by Margaret,
Countess of Salisbury, mother of Cardinal Pole. It stands in the north
choir aisle, its roof rich with arabesque tracery and carved bosses,
telling a curious story in our English history. Attainted of treason the
Countess was confined two years in the Tower before she suffered. When
the day of execution came, she walked out on the fatal Tower Green; and
still firm—still to the last resolute—refused to lay her head on the
block. “So should traitors do,” she cried, “but I am none;” and the
headsman was obliged to butcher her as best he could.[174]

In the same letter before quoted from the Commissioners for the
Suppression of Monasteries, dated from Christchurch, occurs this
passage:—“In thys churche we founde a chaple and monumēt curiosly made
of cane [Caen] stone ̄paryd by the late mother of Raynolde pole for
herre buriall, wiche we have causyd to be defacyd, and all the armys and
badgis clerly to be delete.”[175] To this day the vengeance of Henry’s
commissioners is visible, her arms being broken, and the bosses defaced,
though her motto, “_Spes mea in Deo est_,” can still be read.

At the end of this aisle, under the east window, lie the alabaster
effigies of Sir John Chydioke and his wife. The knight, who fell in the
wars of York and Lancaster, wears his coat of mail, his head resting on
his helmet, and his hands clasped together in prayer. At the western
end, adjoining the north transept, stand two oratories with groined
roofs, enriched with foliated bosses, whilst the capitals, from which
the arches spring, are carved with heads.[176]

In the south choir aisle stand more monuments, amongst them the mortuary
chapel of Robert Harys, with his rebus sculptured on a shield; and the
chapel of Draper, the last prior, noticeable for its rich canopied niche
over the doorway.[177]

And now that the reader has seen each part, let him go back to the west
end, and sweep out of sight the whole thicket of pews, and break down
the rood-screen blocking up the view, and looking through and beyond it,
past the long line of Norman bays, with their sculptured tables, and
past the chancel, imagine the stone reredos, as it once was, shining
with gold and colour, all its niches filled with statues, and the
windows above blazing with crimson and purple, through which the
sunlight poured, staining the carved stalls and misereres,—and then he
will have some faint idea of the former glory of the church.[178]

Most interesting is it, too, from another point of view. Since the
Austin canons were more especially concerned with man’s struggle in
daily life, their churches assumed a parochial character. Hence we here
have the spacious nave, so different to that of the old Nunnery Church
of Romsey, the west tower and doorway—absent at Romsey—and the lovely
north porch looking out to the town.

The whole building, I am sorry to add, is sadly out of repair.
Restoration has been going on for some time past; but here, as in all
similar cases, money is much needed. Surely men might give something, if
from no higher motive than of keeping up a memorial of the piety of a
past age. We inveigh against Cromwell and the Puritans—against the
sacrilege of horses stabled in the choir, and the stalls turned into
mangers;—against the sword which struck down the sculptured images, and
the fire which consumed the carved woodwork. But the harm which the
Puritans wrought is little compared with ours, in allowing the
loveliness of our churches to rot by our negligence, and their
sacredness to perish by our apathy.

    [Illustration: The North Porch and Doorway.]




                              CHAPTER XIV.
THE OLD SOUTH-WESTERN SEA-COAST—SOMERFORD, CHEWTON GLEN, MILFORD, HURST
                           CASTLE, LYMINGTON.


    [Illustration: Chewton Glen.]

Little has been seen of the sea, except from Calshot Castle to Leap.
Though, too, the sea-coast here, as there, is no longer in the Forest,
yet if we miss this walk we shall lose some of the most beautiful
scenery in the district.

As we leave Christchurch by the Lymington Road, Mudeford lies on the
right, and Burton, with its Staple Cross, on the left. Few things are
more touching than these old grey relics of the past, standing solitary
in our cross-roads, the dial united with the Cross, to show both how
short was man’s life, and where lay his only salvation. But we now
profane them, and turn them, as here, into direction posts, or break
them up, as at Burgate, to mend the road.

Both villages will some day be more sought after than at present, for at
Burton lived Southey, with his friend Charles Lloyd, and sang the
praises of the valley in better verse than usual. At Mudeford, Stewart
Rose, the author of _The Red King_, built Gundimore, where, in 1807,
Scott stayed, writing _Marmion_, and riding over the Forest exploring
the barrows. In the same village Coleridge lodged during the winter of
1816.[179]

A little way along the main road lies Somerford, once one of the Granges
of Christchurch Priory. Its barns and stables are partly built from the
prior’s lodgings, whose site may here and there be faintly traced; and
the chapel, which in Grose’s time was still standing, with the initials
of the last prior, John Draper, cut on the window labels.[180]

The best plan, however, is not to go along the road, but the shore as
far as Chewton Glen, and there climb up the cliff. The sands are white
and hard, strewed with fragments of iron-stone, and large _septaria_,
from which cement is made, and for which, farther on, a fleet of sloops
is dredging a little way from the shore. In the far distance gleam the
white and black and orange-coloured bands of sand and clay scoring the
Barton cliffs.[181]

The glen, or “bunny,” as it is locally called, runs right down into the
sea; the high tide rushing up it, and driving back its Forest stream.
Down to the very edge it is fringed with low oak copses, covered in the
spring, as far as high-tide mark, with blue bells, and strewed with
yellow tufts of primroses. In the summer, too, the ground is as deep a
green with ferns as the oak leaves above; whilst the stream flows
between banks bordered with blue skull-cap and purple helleborine.[182]

                   [Illustration: _Christ Church Bay_
                      _From the Ordnance Survey._]


  A.—Middle Marine Bed.
  B.—Fresh-water Clays and Marls.
  C.—Crocodile Bed, &c., exposed.
  D.—Olive Bed, well exposed.
  E.—Lignite Bed at the top of Cliff.
  F.—Chama Bed.
  G.—Barton Clay. Fossils abundant.
  H.—Green Clay, with sharks’ teeth, and bones of fish.
  I.—High Cliff Sands rise.
  J.—Pebble Bed.
  K.—Grey Sands, interstratified with fossil-wood and iron-stone.
  L.—Bracklesham Sands.


Then, as you climb up to the down, on the opposite side, stretches a
view, hard to be matched in England either for extent or beauty. On one
side rolls the English Channel, indenting the shore with its deep bay as
far as the land-locked harbour of Christchurch, shut in by Hengistbury
Head and the white Swanage rocks; and, on the other, it sweeps away by
the long beach of Hurst and its round gray castle. Opposite, glitter the
coloured sands and chalk cliffs of Alum Bay, and the white Needle Rocks
running wedge-shaped into the sea. Farther eastward, rise the treeless
downs, and the breach opens across the Island to Freshwater Gate, and
the two batteries, built into the cliff, one by one appear: the long
scene ended at last by the houses of Yarmouth—the Solent still winding
onward, like some great river.

An uninterrupted path runs, for some three or four miles, along the top
of the cliff—the scene constantly changing in its beauty. Below hangs a
broken under-cliff, shelving down to the sea, strewed here and there
with blocks of gravel, the grass and furze growing on them just as they
fell. On the shore stretch long reaches of yellow sand, separated by
narrow strips of pebbles, and patches of dark green Barton clay,
embossed with shells, and studded with sharks’ teeth.

Passing the Coastguard Station and the Gangway, we reach Becton
Bunny—very different to Chewton, but equally lovely, with its bare wide
gorge, and its beds of furze and heath fringing the edge of the
cliff.[183] Very beautiful, too, are the summer sunsets seen from this
point—the sun sinking far down the channel, lighting up the coloured
sands of Alum Bay purple and gold, tinting the white chalk cliffs with
rose and vermilion, the crimson of the sky floating on the waves as they
break along the shore.

Still following the path along the top of the cliff, we pass the
grave-yard, where stood the old cruciform church of Hordle—once in the
middle of the village, but now only a hundred yards from the sea.
Nothing of it remains except some blocks of Grey Wethers, used for its
foundation, and too large to be removed. Very interesting are these
stones, brought up from the shore, where, now and then, one or two may
be seen at low tide, tumbled from the drift above—the same stones as
those at Stonehenge, left on the top of the chalk. Gone, too, are its
mill and its six salterns, mentioned in _Domesday_, and the village
itself removed inland. The sailors, however, dredging for cement-stone
or for fish, sometimes draw up great logs of wood, locally known as
“mootes,” which may perhaps tell of the salterns, or the time when the
Forest stretched to the sea. The salterns of the Normans and the
Old-English have suffered very different fates. In Normandy the sea no
longer reaches to their sites,[184] whilst here it has long since rolled
over them.

Beyond this again is Mineway, reminding us, by its name, of the time
when the iron-stone was collected on the shore and taken to the Sowley
furnaces to be smelted.[185] Farther on, down in the valley made by the
stream, which turns the village mill, mentioned in _Domesday_, lies
Milford. The church spire rises up prettily amongst its trees, and the
church itself is a good example of our village churches, built in three
or four different styles. The tower is Early-English, surmounted by a
string-course of Norman heads. In the north side stands a curious
inserted doorway, with trefoil heading, whilst two Norman arches remain
in the nave joined by Early-English, springing from black Purbeck marble
shafts.

To the south stretches the long Hurst beach, formed, in much the same
way as the more famous Chesil Bank, of the rolled pebbles brought up
from the Barton Cliffs by the strong tides aided with the westerly
gales, making a breakwater to the whole of the Solent. Now and then
close to it appear the floating islands, known as the Shingles,
sometimes rising for only a few hours above the sea, and at others
remaining long enough to become green with bladderwort and samphire.

Across to the Isle of Wight, at the narrowest point, it is only a mile;
and so fast does the Solent tide,[186] when once the ebb is felt, pour
itself along the narrow gorge, that it fills up Christchurch Bay, higher
than at the flood, thus making, in fact, a double high-water. At the
extreme end stands Hurst Castle, built by Henry VIII., from the ruins of
Beaulieu Abbey. Whatever opinion we may have of Henry’s private
character, there can be but one as to his foresight and energy in
defending the country. Much for this may be forgiven. Hall wrote in no
exaggerated strain when he said:—“The King’s highness never ceases to
study and take pains both for the advancement of the commonwealth of
this his realm of England, and for the defence of the same....
Wherefore, his Majesty in his own personne took very laborious and
painful journeys towards the sea-coasts. Also, he sent dyvers of his
nobles and counsellors to view and search all the portes and dangers in
the coastes, ... and in all soche doubtful places his Highness caused
dyvers and many bulwarks and fortifications to be made.”[187] And of
them, Hurst Castle, like Calshot, which we have seen, was one, and still
stands, additionally fortified by guns, and guarded by the far better
defences of lighthouses, and beacons, and telegraph stations.[188]

Here it was, on the 1st December, 1642, Charles I. was brought, after
holding his mock court at Newport, by Colonel Cobbit, who had seized him
in the name of the army. Here, too, he still showed all the foolish
childishness which Laud had taught him, putting faith in the omen of his
candle burning brightly or dimly,[189] which detracts so much from any
interest we might otherwise feel for him in his days of care and sorrow.
A closet is shown where he is said to have been confined, and where his
Golden Rules are said to have hung; but from Herbert’s memoirs,
evidently neither the room where he lived or slept.[190] Herbert’s
account of Hurst is so graphic that I give it nearly in full:—“The wind
and tide favouring, the King and his attendants crossed the narrow sea
in three hours,[191] and landed at Hurst Castle, or Block House rather,
erected by order of King Henry VIII., upon a spot of earth a good way
into the sea, and joined to the firm land by a narrow neck of sand,
which is covered over with small loose stones and pebbles; and upon both
sides the sea beats, so as at spring tides and stormy weather the land
passage is formidable and hazardous. The castle has very thick stone
walls, and the platforms are regular, and both have several culverines
and sakers mounted.... The captain of this wretched place was not
unsuitable; for, at the King’s going ashore, he stood ready to receive
him with small observance. His look was stern. His hair and large beard
were black and bushy. He held a partizan in his hand; and, Switz-like,
had a great basket-hilt sword on his side. Hardly could one see a man of
more grim aspect, and no less robust and rude was his behaviour.”[192]
The account is very life-like, though some allowance must be made for
Herbert’s prejudices against this gaunt Puritan captain, who, we learn,
by-and-by became more civil. Colonel Cobbit, in whose charge the King
was, seems to have treated him with uniform respect and kindness.
Charles stayed here six-and-twenty days, walking along the beach,
watching the ships passing up and down the Solent, and receiving the
cavaliers of Hampshire, who came for the last time to pay their
respects. Then, at last, he was suddenly taken away to show at Whitehall
a better courage and wisdom in death than in life.

About three miles from Milford, on the mouth of the Boldre Water, lies
the port of Lymington, the Mark of the Limingas, as the neighbouring
hamlet of Pennington is that of the Penningas.[193] Its manor, like that
of Christchurch, once belonged to Isabella de Fortibus, and was given,
with some other possessions, by Edward I., to her rightful heir, the
Earl of Devon, whose arms are still quartered with those of the
Corporation. It is another of those towns, which, like Christchurch,
though in a very different way, is associated with the past. It has no
monastic buildings, no ruins of any kind, no church worth even a glance.
Yet, too, it can tell of departed greatness.

From the coins which have been dug up in the town, and the camp at
Buckland Rings,[194] it was evidently well known to the Romans. In
_Domesday_, the famous Roger de Yvery held one hyde here; but its woods
were thrown into the Forest, and for this reason the manor was only
rated at one half. No mention is made of its salt-works, though we know,
from a grant of Richard de Redvers, in 1147, confirming his father’s
bequest of the tithe of them to Quarr Abbey, that they were then
probably in existence.[195] Larger than Portsmouth, in 1345, it
contributed nearly double the number of ships and men to Edward III.’s
fleet for the invasion of France. We must not, however, conclude that it
has decreased.[196] Larger now than ever, like so many other old towns,
it has not increased in a relative proportion with younger rivals
favoured by the accidents of position or commerce. Like, too, all other
similar ports, it has its tales to tell of French invasions, and, like
similar boroughs, of the Civil War; but they are merely traditional,
and, therefore, vague and unsatisfactory. Loyal from first to last, it
is said to have at its own cost supplied with provisions the ships of
Prince Charles, when he lay in the Yarmouth Roads, hoping to rescue his
father from Carisbrook. In still later times, carried away by Protestant
sympathies, it espoused the cause of the imbecile Monmouth, the mayor
raising some hundred men to join his standard.[197]

Most of the places round Lymington, Buckland Rings, Boldre Church, Sway
Common, with its barrows, we have already seen. A little, though, to the
eastward, at Baddesley, near Sowley Pond, formerly stood a Preceptory of
the Knights Templar, and afterwards of those of St. John of Jerusalem.
At the Dissolution it was granted to Sir Thomas Seymour, and again by
Edward VI. to Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, but subsequently, under Mary,
restored to the Hospitallers. Nothing of it is now left.[198]

Here, then, at Lymington, we have been the whole circumference of the
Forest. I do not know that I have omitted anything of real interest.
Mere idle gossip, vague stories, I have left to those who care to write,
and those who like to read such things. The geology, and botany, and
folk-lore of the district, to which it was impossible to do more than to
make general references, will be found in the succeeding chapters. As
was before said, in the wild commons and woods themselves I have myself
taken the greatest interest, and wished to impress their beauty on the
reader, feeling that a love for Nature is the mainspring of all that is
noble in life, and all that is precious in Art. I do not know either
that I have anywhere exaggerated. On the contrary, no words can paint,
much more exaggerate, the loveliness of the woods. And of all walks in
the district, this over the Hordle and Barton Cliffs is by no means the
least beautiful, though no longer in the Forest.

    [Illustration: Hurst Castle.]




                              CHAPTER XV.
                     THE GIPSY AND THE WEST-SAXON.


    [Illustration: View in Mark Ash.]

Many people have a vague notion that the gipsies constitute the most
important element of the population of the New Forest, whereas, of
course, they are mere cyphers. An amusing enough French author, in a
work upon England, has devoted a special chapter to the New Forest, and
there paid more attention to the gipsies than any one else, and entirely
forgets the West-Saxon, whose impress is indelibly marked, not only in
the language, but in the names of every town, village, and field.

As, however, every one takes a romantic interest in these nomads, we
must not entirely pass over them. Here and there still linger a few in
whose veins run Indian blood, against whom Henry VIII. made bad laws,
and Skelton worse rhymes. The principal tribes round Lyndhurst are the
Stanleys, the Lees, and Burtons; and near Fordingbridge, the Snells.
They live chiefly in the various droves and rides of the Forest, driven
from place to place by the policeman, for to this complexion have things
come. One of their favourite halting-places is amongst the low woods
near Wootton, where a dozen or more brown tents are always fluttering in
the wind, and as the night comes on the camp-fires redden the dark
fir-stems.

The kingly title formerly held by the Stanleys is now in the possession
of the Lees. They all still, to a certain extent, keep up their old
dignity, and must by no means be confounded with the strolling outcasts
and itinerant beggars who also dwell in the Forest. Their marriages,
too, are still observed with strictness, and any man or woman who
marries out of the caste, as recently in the case of one of the Lees,
who wedded a blacksmith, is instantly disowned. The proverb, too, of
honour among thieves is also still kept, and formal meetings are every
now and then convened to expel any member who is guilty of cheating his
kinsman.

Since the deer have been destroyed in the Forest, life is not to them
what it was. They are now content to live upon a stray fowl, or
hedgehog, or squirrel, baked whole in a coat of clay, and to gain a
livelihood by weaving the heather into mats, and brooms, and beehives.

They are, however, mere wanderers, and have nothing to do with the soil.
It is with the West-Saxon that we are most concerned. And in the New
Forest he will be found just such another man as his forefather in the
days of William the Red, putting the same faith in visions and omens
which made the King exclaim, on the morning of his death, upon the news
of the monk of Gloucester’s dream, “Do you take me for an Englishman?”
believing firmly in groaning ash-trees, and oaks which bud on
Christmas-eve, and witches who can turn themselves into hares, and that
the marl which he digs is still red with the blood of his ancient foes
the Danes.[199]

Here, as we have seen in Hampshire, at Calshot, on the borders of the
Forest, Cerdic landed. Here he defeated the Britons, and established the
kingdom of the West-Saxons. Here the West-Saxon Alfred rallied his
countrymen and crowned defeat with victory. Here, too, stood the capital
of Wessex, Winchester, in whose cathedral lie the old West-Saxon kings.
Here, then, if anywhere, we should expect to find West-Saxon
characteristics and a West-Saxon population.

As is well known, after the battle of Hastings, the West-Saxons, with
one or two exceptions, succumbed willingly enough to the Conqueror, who
lived amongst them; whilst the Northmen across the Humber bid him
defiance. Every one must to this day notice the extreme deference,
almost amounting to a painful obsequiousness, of the lower classes in
the southern, compared with their independent manner in the northern,
parts of England. We find, too, mingled, however, with characteristics
from other sources, the West-Saxon element not only in the appearance of
the long-limbed Forest peasantry, with their narrow head and shoulders,
and loose, shambling gait, but also in their slowness of perception.
They betray, too, to this hour that worst Teutonic trait of fatalism,
observable in all their epitaphs, and in their daily expression, “It was
not to be,” applied to anything which does not take place.
Notwithstanding, too, their apparent servility, an amount of cunningness
and craft peeps out, which in a different age compelled the Conqueror to
make special laws against assassination.[200]

Much must be set against these drawbacks. Enslaved to an extent which no
modern historian has dared to reveal, and can only be fully conceived by
the dreadful story of _The Chronicle_,—treated as beasts rather than
even slaves,—the West-Saxons showed, under the Normans, a spirit of
obedience and an adaptability to changed circumstances which are above
praise. Let us give the West-Saxon labourer credit for it both then and
to this day, that though the most ill-paid and ill-fed in England, he
bears his heavy yoke of poverty without a murmur.

Turning to another side of his character, we find him loving the same
old sports as in the days of Alfred. He still follows the hounds on
foot, and when there were deer in the Forest, naturally killed them.
Wrestling and cudgel-playing have been continued till the last few years
close to the northern boundaries of the Forest. The old Hock-tide games
were till a late period kept up in the northern parts, and “Hock-tide
money” was not so very long ago paid as an acknowledgment for certain
Forest privileges. Heartiness and roughness still go hand in hand with
him as with his forefathers. But a heaviness of intellect is always
visible, and, as with all his race, a sadness oppresses his mirth. His
dress to this day, too, bespeaks his nationality. He still wears what is
locally called the “smicket,” and sometimes the “surplice,” the
Old-English _smoc_, named also the _tunece_. It is still, too, as
formerly, tied round the waist with a leathern band. His legs are still
cased, as we see the Old-English in their drawings, with gaiters, known
as “vamplets,” or “strogs,” equivalent to the “cockers” of the Midland
Counties, which do not reach quite so high as the former, and “mokins,”
which are merely made of coarse sacking.

And now let us see how far he has made his presence felt on the district
and in the language. But we must beware of overstraining our theory. No
portion of our history is, in its details, so difficult as the English
Conquest. None, to any statement which may be made, requires so many
qualifications. The first faint flow of the Teutonic immigration was
felt long prior to Cæsar’s invasion—centuries before the main wave burst
over the country. We must, too, carefully bear in mind that in Wessex,
more than in any other part, the conquerors and conquered were blended
together.[201] They mixed, however, everywhere far more than is commonly
allowed. Our language bears testimony to the general fact. The many
Keltic household words in daily use are the best evidence.

Here in the New Forest I may mention that the form “plock” is used
instead of the common block (_bloc_), and that we have, as, perhaps,
throughout the West of England, “hob,” in the sense of potato-hob—a
place where potatoes are covered over, instead of “hog” (_hwg_), noticed
by Mr. Davies in his list of Keltic words in Lancashire. Further, we
find the terms “more” (_maur_), for a root, “mulloch,” for dirt, and
“bower-stone,” for a boundary-stone.[202] Here, too, as in other places,
the Britons have left the traces of their rule on the broader natural
features of the country—on the rivers, as the Exe (_y_ [_g_] _wysg_, the
current), and Avon (_Afon_, the river), and Avon Water, near Setthorns,
and Boldre (_y Byldwr_, the full stream), and Stour ([_G_]_wys-dwr_, the
deep water), and in the district itself, in the now almost forgotten
name of Ytene. We find their influence, too, perhaps, in such local
names of villages and fields as Penerley, Denny, Fritham, Cocketts,
Cammel Green, and Flasket’s Lane. As might be expected, the traces of
the Danes are very much less; and I hardly like even to venture on the
conjecture that the various “Nashes” along the coast are corruptions of
_næs_. Here, in the Forest, we have no Danish “thorpes” or “bys.” There
are no Carlbys, as in Lincolnshire and Yorkshire, but plenty of
Old-English Charltons, and Charlmoors, and Charlmeads. No Norse “forces”
run here, as in the north of England, but only “rides.” No “denes” open
out to the sea, as in Durham, but only “chines” and “bunnies.” No Jutish
“ings” are dwelt in, as in Kent, but only “tons” and “leys.” Here, in
fact, the people of Cerdic have identified themselves with the land, and
have left their impress, now unchanged for more than thirteen centuries,
on all the towns, and hamlets, and homesteads.

Thus we find on the eastern side of the Forest, formerly in it, Eling,
the Mark of the Ealingas, Totton, the Mark of the Totingas; on the
south, Lymington and Pennington, the Marks of the Limingas and
Penningas; and on the west, Fordingbridge, the Mark of the Fordingas,
and Ellingham, that is, Adeling’s Hamlet, Adelingeham, in _Domesday_,
where some of the neighbouring woods are to this hour called Adlem’s
Plantations.

We will not press, as a proof of descent, the number of Old-English
surnames, which may easily be collected in the district. We must
remember that they were not used, in our modern sense, till long after
the Norman Conquest; and when adopted, people were more likely to choose
them from English, than from Norman or other sources. Such evidence
establishes nothing.

In other ways, however, do we find the Old-English nomenclature telling
us the history of the people and the country;—in Hengistbury Head, on
the south-west, reminding us of the white horse—the Hengest of the
High-German,[203] and Calshot at the east, spelt as we know in Edward
I.’s time, Kalkesore; on the north-west in Charford—the old
Cerdices-ford of _The Chronicle_; on the south in Darrat (Danes-rout)
and Danestream, whose waters, the peasant maintains, still run red with
the blood of the conquered.

Everywhere we meet similar compounds,—in Needsore, which the Ordnance
map spells Needs-oar, and thus loses the etymology, which, like the
Needle Rocks, means simply the under (German _nieder_) shore; in the
various Galley Hills, corrupted into Gallows Hills, which have nothing
to do with the later, but the older instrument, which contained the
signal-fires, and are connected with the words “galley,”[204] to
frighten, and “galley-baggar,” a scarecrow, both still heard every day,
from the Old-English _gælan_.

We find the same impress in Lyndhurst, Brockenhurst, Ashurst, and, as we
have before said, in various other hursts,[205] in the different
Holmsleys, Netleys,[206] Beckleys, Bentleys, Bratleys, Stockleys, all
from the Old-English _leag_; in the various _tons_, as Wootton, Winkton,
Everton, Burton, and Hinton; in Gore and Goreley, the muddy places; in
Culverley, the dove lea; in the Roydons and Rowdouns, the rough places;
in Rhinefield, the brook field; and in Brockis Hill, the badger’s hill.

Take only the very names of the fields and we shall meet the same
element, as in the Wareham field, the fishing place field; Conygers and
Coneygar,[207] the King’s ground, to be met in every village; in the
linches, as Goreley Linch, that is, Goreley Headland, or literally, the
dirty-field headland; in Hangerley, the corner meadow; Hayes, the
enclosure, with all its compounds, as Westhayes, Powelhayes, Crithayes,
and Felthayes; in such terms as Withy Eyot, that is, Withy Island; and
the different Rodfords—“hryðeranford”—the cattleford, the Old-English
equivalent to the Norman Bovreford.

We meet, too, in daily life, such words as hayward for the North-Country
“pinder;” barton, literally the barley place, instead of the Keltic
“crooyard;”—the same Old-English element in the names of the flowers, as
bishop-wort (_bisceop-wyrt_), one of the mints, from which the peasant
makes his “hum-water;” cassock (from _cassuc_), any kind of binding
weed, and cammock (from _cammec_), any of the St. John’s worts, or
ragworts; clivers (from _clife_, a bur), the heriff; and wythwind, by
which name the convolvulus is still known, the Old-English “wið-winde.”

These words, however, belong more especially to the next chapter. To
descend from generals to particulars, let us notice some of the verbal
characteristics by which a West-Saxon population may be distinguished.
As a rule it may be laid down that the West-Saxons give a soft, and the
Anglians and Northmen a hard sound to all their words. Thus in the New
Forest we find the West-Saxons saying burrow for barrow; haish for
harsh; pleu for plough; heth for heath, instead of the “hawth” of the
Eastern rapes of Sussex; mash for marsh; Gerge for George; slue for
sloe, and again, for slough, the “slow” of the north; bin for been, and
also being; justle for jostle, as in Nahum, ch. ii. v. 4; athert for
athwart; wool for hole; ballat for ballad, or, as it is pronounced in
the more northern counties, ballard; ell for eel; clot and clit for
clod; stiffle for stifle; ruff for roof, and so on. Thus, too, we meet
here not with Deepdene, but Dibden, spelt in Boazio’s map of 1591,
Debden. No Chawton, but only Chewton occurs, no Farnham, but only
Fernham and Fernhill.

The West-Saxons, too, have a peculiar drawl. So in the New Forest we may
hear them saying pearts for parts; stwoane for stone; twereable for
terrible; measter (_mæster_), instead of the Anglian “muster;” and yees
instead of the Sussex “yus.” As others have also remarked, the
West-Saxon substitutes _a_ for _o_. So here we get lard for lord; nat
for not; amang for among; knap for knop; shart for short; starm for
storm; and Narmanton for Normanton. Not only this, but the West-Saxon in
the New Forest substitutes _a_ for _e_, as in agg for egg, and lag for
leg. He not only retains the hard _g_, but gives a _k_ when he can, as
in kiver for cover, and aker for acorn, the “aitchorn” of the Anglian
districts. Let us notice, too, that he always changes the _f_ into a
_v_, as vern for fern, vire for fire, evvets for effets, voam for foam,
as written by Chaucer, vall for fall, and fitches for vetches, as we
find it in Ezekiel, ch. iv. v. 9.

To go further into these distinctions is here impossible. As are the
people so is the language. By an analysis of the published glossaries of
Dorsetshire, Wiltshire, and Sussex, I find that the New Forest possesses
above two-thirds of the two former, differing here and there only in
pronunciation, whilst of the latter it scarcely possesses one-tenth,
proving plainly that the people are West-Saxons rather than South,
descendants of Cerdic more than of Ella.[208]

Turning from these minor characteristics, and looking at the people
themselves as they once were, and as they now stand, much might be added
as to the unequal race which the West-Saxon has run with the Anglian and
the Northman, and its effect on his character. The most casual observer
even, in going over so small a space as the New Forest, must have
noticed how Nature has favoured the Northern and Midland counties in
their sources of wealth and industry. The great home-trade of the Middle
Ages has entirely deserted the South. Once, too, all our men-of-war
sailed from what are now small ports on the south coast. Our fleets were
manned by crews from the Isle of Wight, and Lymington, and Lyme, and the
neighbouring harbours. The seamanship of the West-Country was England’s
right arm.[209] But now the iron fields of Staffordshire have put out
the furnaces. The coal mines of Durham have destroyed the charcoal
trade, and taken away the seamanship. The brine-pits of Cheshire have
dried up the salterns which covered the south-western shores. Of course,
this loss of material prosperity has told on the intelligence and morals
of the district.

In the New Forest itself, till within the last thirty years, smuggling
was a recognized calling. Lawlessness was the rule during the last
century. Warner says that he had then seen twenty or thirty waggons
laden with kegs, guarded by two or three hundred horsemen, each bearing
two or three “tubs,” coming over Hengistbury Head, making their way, in
the open day, past Christchurch to the Forest. At Lymington, a troop of
bandits took possession of the well-known Ambrose Cave, on the borders
of the Forest, and carried on, not only smuggling, but wholesale
burglary. The whole country was plundered. The soldiers were at last
called out, the men tracked, and the cave entered. Booty to an enormous
extent was found. The captain turned King’s evidence, and confessed that
he had murdered upwards of thirty people, whose bodies had been thrown
down a well, where they were found.[210]

Such was the state of the New Forest in the last century. But as
recently as thirty or forty years ago every labourer was either a
poacher or a smuggler, very often a combination of the two. Boats were
built from the Forest timber in many a barn; and to this day various
fields far inland are still called “the dock-yard mead.” Crews of
Foresters, armed with “swingels,” such as the West-Saxons of Somerset
fought with in the battle of Sedgemoor, defied the coastguard. The
principal “runs” were made at Beckton and Chewton Bunnies, and the
Gangway. Often as many as a hundred “tubs,” each containing four
gallons, and worth two or three guineas, or even more, would be run in a
night. Each man would carry two or three of these kegs, one slung in
front and two behind; or if the cliff was very steep, a chain of men was
formed, and the tubs passed from hand to hand.

All this has been done within the memory of people not so very old. Men
were killed at Milton. Old Becton Bunny House was burnt to the ground. A
keg was carelessly broached, and the spirit caught fire from the spark
of a pipe. Every person was in fact engaged in smuggling:—some for
profit, many merely from a love of adventure. Everywhere was understood
the smuggler’s local proverb, “Keystone under the hearth, keystone under
the horse’s belly.”[211]

Now nothing either in smuggling or poaching is to any extent attempted.
In the one case the crime is unprofitable, in the other the temptation
is withdrawn. Labour, too, is more plentiful, and the Government works
of draining and planting in the Forest employ most of the Foresters.

Many a man, however, can still tell how he has baited a hook, tied to a
bough, with apples to snare the deer; how he has pared the faun’s hoof
to keep the doe in one place, till he wanted to kill her. But now the
deer are all gone, except a few, only seen now and then, wandering about
in the wildest and loneliest parts. As to re-stocking the Forest, we can
only say, with good Bishop Hoadley, respecting Waltham Chace,—“the deer
have already done enough mischief.”

    [Illustration: The King’s Gairn Brook.]




                              CHAPTER XVI.
                   THE FOLK-LORE AND PROVINCIALISMS.


    [Illustration: Anderwood Corner.]

Intimately bound up with the race are of course the folk-lore of a
district, and what we are now pleased to call provincialisms, but which
are more properly nationalisms, showing us the real texture of our
language; and in every way preferable to the Latin and Greek hybridisms,
which are daily coined to suit the exigencies of commerce or science.

Provincialisms are, in fact, when properly looked at, not so much
portions of the original foundations of a language, as the very quarry
out of which it is hewn. And as if to compensate for much of the harm
she has done, America has wrought one great good in preserving many a
pregnant Old-English word, which we have been foolish enough to
disown.[212] Provincialisms should be far more studied than they are;
for they will help us to settle many a difficult point,—where was the
boundary of the Anglian and the Frisian? how far on the national
character was the influence of the Dane felt? how much, and in what way,
did the Norman affect the daily business of life?

Still more important is a country’s folk-lore, as showing the higher
mental faculties of the race, in those legends and snatches of song, and
fragments of popular poetry, which speak the popular feeling, and which
not only contain its past history, but foreshadow the future literature
of a country; in those proverbs, too, which tell the life and employment
of a nation; and those superstitions which give us such an insight into
its moral state.

Throughout the West of England still linger some few stray waifs and
legends of the past. In the New Forest Sir Bevis of Southampton is no
mythical personage, and the peasant will tell how the Knight used to
take his afternoon’s walk, across the Solent, from Leap to the Island.

Here in the Forest still dwell fairies. The mischievous sprite,
Laurence, still holds men by his spell and makes them idle. If a peasant
is lazy, it is proverbially said, “Laurence has got upon him,” or, “He
has got a touch of Laurence.” He is still regarded with awe, and barrows
are called after him. Here, too, in the Forest still lives Shakspeare’s
Puck, a veritable being, who causes the Forest colts to stray, carrying
out word for word Shakspeare’s description,—

  “I am that merry wanderer of the night,
  When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile
  Neighing in likeness of a filly foal.”
                            (_Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act ii., Sc. 1.)

This tricksy fairy, so the Forest peasant to this hour firmly believes,
inhabits the bogs, and draws people into them, making merry, and
laughing at their misfortunes, fulfilling his own roundelay—

  “Up and down, up and down,
  I will lead them up and down;
  I am feared in field and town,
  Goblin, lead them up and down.”
                            (_Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act iv., Sc. 2.)

Only those who are eldest born are exempt from his spell. The proverb of
“as ragged as a colt Pixey” is everywhere to be heard, and at which
Drayton seems to hint in his _Court of Faerie_:—

  “This Puck seems but a dreaming dolt,
  Still walking like a ragged colt.”

He does not, however, in the Forest, so much skim the milk, or play
pranks with the chairs, but, as might be expected from the nature of the
country, misleads people on the moors, turning himself into all sorts of
shapes, as Shakspeare, Spenser, and Jonson, have sung. There is scarcely
a village or hamlet in the Forest district which has not its “Pixey
Field,” and “Pixey Mead,” or its “Picksmoor,” and “Cold Pixey,” and
“Puck Piece.” At Prior’s Acre we find Puck’s Hill, and not far from it
lies the great wood of Puckpits; whilst a large barrow on Beaulieu
Common is known as the Pixey’s Cave.[213]

Then, too, on the south-west borders of the Forest remains the legend,
its inner meaning now perhaps forgotten, that the Priory Church of
Christchurch was originally to have been built on the lonely St.
Catherine’s Hill, instead of in the valley where the people lived and
needed religion. The stones, however, which were taken up the hill in
the day were brought down in the night by unseen hands. The beams, too,
which were found too short on the heights, were more than long enough in
the town. The legend further runs, beautiful in its right
interpretation, that when the building was going on, there was always
one more workman—namely, Christ—than came on the pay-night.

So, too, the poetry of the district has its own characteristics, which
it shares with that of the neighbouring western counties. The homeliness
of the songs in the West of England strangely contrasts with the wild
spirit of those of the North, founded as the latter so often are on the
border forays and raids of former times. None which I have collected are
direct enough in their bearing on the New Forest to warrant quotation,
and I must content myself with this general expression.[214]

To pass on to other matters, let us notice some of the superstitions of
the New Forest. No one is now so superstitious, because no one is so
ignorant as the West-Saxon. One of the commonest remedies for
consumption in the Forest is the “lungs of oak,” a lichen (_Sticta
pulmonaria_) which grows rather plentifully on the oak trees; and it is
no unfrequent occurrence for a poor person to ask at a chemist’s shop
for a “pennyworth of lungs of oak.” So, too, for weak eyes, “brighten,”
another lichen, is recommended. I do not know, however, that we must
find so much fault in this matter, as the lichens were not very long ago
favourite prescriptions with even medical men.

Again, another remedy for various diseases used to be the scrapings from
Sir John Chydioke’s alabaster figure, in the Priory Church of
Christchurch, which has, in consequence, been sadly injured. A specific,
however, for consumption is still to kill a jay and place it in the
embers till calcined, when it is then drunk at stated times in water.
Hares’ brains are recommended for infants prematurely born. Children
suffering from fits are, or rather were, passed through cloven
ash-trees. Bread baked on Good Friday will not only keep seven years,
but is a remedy for certain complaints. The seventh son of a seventh son
can perform cures. In fact, a pharmacopœia of such superstitions might
be compiled.

The New Forest peasant puts absolute faith in all traditions, believing
as firmly in St. Swithin as his forefathers did when the saint was
Bishop of Winchester; turns his money, if he has any, when he sees the
new moon; fancies that a burn is a charm against leaving the house; that
witches cannot cross over a brook; that the death’s-head moth was only
first seen after the execution of Charles I.; that the man in the moon
was sent there for stealing wood from the Forest—a superstition, by the
way, mentioned in a slightly different form by Reginald Pecock, Bishop
of Chichester, in the fifteenth century.[215] And the “stolen bush,”
referred to by Caliban in the _Tempest_ (Act ii. sc. 2), and Bottom in
the _Midsummer Night’s Dream_ (Act vi. sc. 1), is still here called the
“nitch,” or bundle of faggots.[216]

Not only this, but the barrows on the plains are named after the
fairies, and the peasant imagines, like the treasure-seekers of the
Middle-Ages, that they contain untold wealth, and that the Forest wells
are full of gold.[217]

I do not mean, however, to say that these beliefs are openly avowed, or
will even be acknowledged by the first labourer who may be seen. The
English peasant is at all times excessively chary—no one perhaps more
so—of expressing his full mind; and a long time is required before a
stranger can, if ever, gain his confidence. But I do say that these
superstitions are all, with more or less credit, held in different parts
of the Forest, although even many who believe them the firmest would
shrink, from fear of ridicule, to confess the fact. Education has done
something to remove them; but they have too firm a hold to be easily
uprooted. They may not be openly expressed, but they are, for all that,
to my certain knowledge, still latent.

Old customs and ceremonies still linger. Mummers still perform at
Christmas. Old women “go gooding,” as in other parts of England, on St.
Thomas’s Day. Boys and girls “go shroving” on Ash Wednesday; that is,
begging for meat and drink at the farm-houses, singing this rude
snatch:—

  “I come a shroving, a shroving,
  For a piece of pancake,
  For a piece of truffle-cheese[218]
  Of your own making.”

When, if nothing is given, they throw stones and shards at the
door.[219]

Plenty, too, of old love superstitions remain—about ash boughs with an
even number of leaves, and “four-leaved” clover, concerning which runs a
Forest rhyme:—

  “Even ash and four-leaved clover,
  You are sure your love to see
  Before the day is over.”

Then, too, we must not forget the Forest proverbs. “Wood Fidley rain,”
“Hampshire and Wiltshire moon-rakers,” and “Keystone under the hearth,”
have already been noticed. But there are others such as “As yellow as a
kite’s claw,” “An iron windfall,” for anything unfairly taken, “All in a
copse,” that is, indistinct, “A good bark-year makes a good wheat-year,”
and “Like a swarm of bees all in a charm,” explained further on, which
show the nature of the country. Again, “A poor dry thing, let it go,” a
sort of poacher’s euphemism, like, “The grapes are sour,” is said of the
Forest hares when the dogs cannot catch them, and so applied to things
which are coveted but out of reach. “As bad as Jeffreys” preserves, as
throughout the West of England, the memory of one who, instead of being
the judge, should have been the hangman. Again, too, “Eat your own side,
speckle-back,” is a common Forest expression, and is used in reference
to greedy people. It is said to have taken its origin from a girl who
shared her breakfast with a snake, and thus reproved her favourite when
he took too much. Again, “To rattle like a boar in a holme bush,” is a
thorough proverb of the Forest district, where a “holme” bush means an
old holly. Passing, however, from particulars to generals, let me add
for the last, “There is but one good mother-in-law, and she is dead.” I
have never heard it elsewhere in England, but doubtless it is common
enough. It exactly corresponds with the German saying, “There is no good
mother-in-law but she that wears a green gown,” that is, who lies in the
churchyard. The shrewdness and humour of a people are never better seen
than in their proverbs.

Further, there are plenty of local sayings, such as “The cuckoo goes to
Beaulieu Fair to buy him a greatcoat,” referring to the arrival of the
cuckoo about the 15th of April, whilst the day on which the fair is held
is known as the “cuckoo day.” A similar proverb is to be found in nearly
every county. So, also, the saying with regard to Burley and its crop of
mast and acorns may be met in the Midland districts concerning Pershore
and its cherries. Like all other parts of England, the Forest is full,
too, of those sayings and adages, which are constantly in the mouths of
the lower classes, so remarkable for their combination of both terseness
and metaphor. To give an instance, “He won’t climb up May Hill,” that
is, he will not live through the cold spring. Again, “A dog is made fat
in two meals,” is applied to upstart or purse-proud people. But it is
dangerous to assign them to any particular district, as by their
applicability they have spread far and wide.

One or two historical traditions, too, still linger in the Forest, but
their value we have seen with regard to the death of the Red King. Thus,
the peasant will tell of the French fleet, which, in June, 1690, lay off
the Needles, and of the Battle of Beachy Head—its cannonading heard even
in the Forest—but who fought, or why, he is equally ignorant. One
tradition, however, ought to be told concerning the terrible winter of
1787, still known in the Forest as “the hard year.” My informant, an old
man, derived his knowledge from his father, who lived in the Forest in a
small lonely farm-house. The storm began in the night; and when his
father rose in the morning he could not, on account of the snow-drift,
open the door. Luckily, a back room had been converted into a
fuel-house, and his wife had laid in a stock of provisions. The storm
still increased. The straggling hedges were soon covered; and by-and-by
the woods themselves disappeared. After a week’s snow, a heavy frost
followed. The snow hardened. People went out shooting, and wherever a
breathing-hole in the snow appeared, fired, and nearly always killed a
hare.[220] The snow continued on the ground for seven weeks; and when it
melted, the stiffened bodies of horses and deer covered the plains.[221]

And now for a few of the Forest words and expressions, many of which are
very peculiar. Take, for instance, the term “shade,” which here has
nothing in common with the shadows of the woods, but means either a pool
or an open piece of ground, generally on a hill top, where the cattle in
the warm weather collect, or, as the phrase is, “come to shade,” for the
sake of the water in the one and the breeze in the other. Thus “Ober
Shade” means nothing more than Ober pond; whilst “Stony Cross Shade” is
a mere turfy plot. At times as many as a hundred cows or horses are
collected together in one of these places, where the owners, or “Forest
marksmen,” always first go to look after a strayed animal. Nearly every
“Walk” in the Forest has its own “Shade,” called after its own name, and
we find the term used as far back as a perambulation of the Forest in
the twenty-second year of Charles II., where is mentioned “the Green
Shade of Biericombe or Bircombe.”

It affords a good illustration of how words grow in their meaning, and
imperceptibly pass from one stage to another. It originally signified
nothing but a shadow, and then the place where the shadow rests. In this
second meaning it more particularly became associated with the idea of
coolness, but gradually, whilst acquiring that idea, quite contrary to
Milton’s “unpierced shade” (_Paradise Lost_, B. iv. 245), lost the
notion of that coolness being caused by the interception of light and
heat. In this sense it was transferred to any place which was cool, and
so at last applied, as in the New Forest, to bare spots without a tree,
deriving their coolness either from the breeze or the water.

Another instance of the gradual change in the meaning of words amongst
provincialisms may be found in “scale,” or “squoyle.” In the New Forest
it properly signifies a short stick loaded at one end with lead,
answering to the “libbet” of Sussex, and is distinguished from a “snog,”
which is only weighted with wood. With it also is employed the verb “to
squoyle,” better known in reference to the old sport of
“cock-squoyling.” From throwing at the squirrel the word was used in
reference to persons, so that “Don’t squoyle at me” at length meant, “Do
not slander me.” Lastly, the phrase, now still common, “Don’t throw
squoyles at me,” comes by that forced interpretation of obtaining a
sense, which nearly always reverses the original meaning, to signify,
“Do not throw glances at me.” And so in the New Forest at this day
“squoyles” not unfrequently mean glances.

There is, too, the word “hat,” which in the Forest takes the place of
“clump,” and is nearly equivalent to the Sussex expression, “a toll of
trees.” I have no doubt whatever that the word had its origin in the
high-crowned hats of the Puritans, the “long crown” of the proverb; and
in the first place referred only to tall isolated clumps of trees. Now,
however, it does not merely mean a clump or ring, as the “seven firs”
between Burley and Ringwood, and Birchen, and Dark Hats, near Lyndhurst,
but any small irregular mass of trees, as the Withy Bed Hat in the
valley near Boldrewood.

Then of course, in connection with the Forest trees, many peculiar words
occur. The flower of the oak is called “the trail,” and the oak-apple
the “sheets axe,”—children carrying it on the twenty-ninth of May, and
calling out the word in derision to those who are not so provided. The
mast and acorns are collectively known as “the turn out,” or
“ovest;”[222] whilst the badly-grown or stunted trees are called
“bustle-headed,” equivalent to the “oak-barrens” of America.

Other words there are, too, all proclaiming the woody nature of the
country. The tops of the oaks are termed, when lopped, the
“flitterings,” corresponding to the “batlins” of Suffolk. The brush-wood
is still occasionally Chaucer’s “rise,” or “rice,” connected with the
German _reis_; and the beam tree, on account of its silvery leaves, the
“white rice.”[223] Frith, too, still means copse-wood. The stem of the
ivy is the “ivy-drum.” Stumps of trees are known as “stools,” and a
“stooled stick” is used in opposition to “maiden timber,” which has
never been touched with the axe; whilst the roots are called “mocks,”
“mootes,” “motes,” and “mores.” But about these last, which are all used
with nice shades of difference, we shall have, further on, something to
say.

Nor must we forget the bees which are largely kept throughout the
Forest, feeding on the heather, leading Fuller to remark that Hampshire
produced the best and worst honey in England. The bee-season, as it is
called, generally lasts, on account of the heath, a month longer than on
the Wiltshire downs. A great quantity of the Old-English mead—_medu_—is
still made, and it is sold at much the same value as with the
Old-English, being three or four times the price of common beer, with
which it is often drunk. The bees, in fact, still maintain an important
place in the popular local bye-laws. Even in _Domesday_ the woods round
Eling are mentioned as yearly yielding twelve pounds’ weight of honey.
As may therefore be expected, when we remember that the whole of England
was once called the Honey Island, here, as elsewhere, plenty of
provincialisms occur concerning the bees.[224]

The drones are here named “the big bees,” the former word being in some
parts seldom used. The young are never said to swarm, but “to play,” the
word taking its origin from their peculiar flight at the time: as
Patmore writes,—

  “Under the chestnuts new bees are swarming,
  Falling and rising like magical smoke.”

The caps of straw which are placed over the “bee-pots,” to protect them
from wet, are known as the “bee-hackles,” or “bee-hakes.” This is one of
those expressive words which is now only found in this form, and that,
in the Midland Counties, of “wheat hackling,” that is, covering the
sheaves with others in a peculiar way, to shelter them from the rain.
About the honeycombs, or, as they are more commonly called, “workings,”
the following rhyme exists:—

  “Sieve upon herder,[225]
  One upon the other;
  Holes upon both sides,
  Not all the way, though,
  What may it be? See if you know.”

The entrance for the bees into the hive is here, as in Cambridgeshire
and some other counties, named the “tee-hole,” evidently an
onomatopoieia, from the buzzing or “teeing” noise, as it is locally
called, which the bees make. The piece of wood placed under the
“bee-pots,” to give the bees more room, is known as “the rear,” still
also, I believe, in use in America. The old superstition, I may notice,
is here more or less believed, that the bees must be told if any death
happens in a family, or they will desert their hives. It is held, too,
rather, perhaps, as a tradition than a law, that if a swarm of bees
flies away the owner cannot claim them, unless, at the time, he has made
a noise with a kettle or tongs to give his neighbours notice. It is on
such occasions that the phrase “Low brown” may be heard, meaning that
the bees, or the “brownies,” as they are called, are to settle low.

So also of the cattle, which are turned out in the Forest, we find some
curious expressions. A “shadow cow” is here what would in other places
be called “sheeted,” or “saddle-backed,” that is, a cow whose body is a
different colour to its hind and fore parts.[226] A “huff” of cattle
means a drove or herd, whilst the cattle, which are entered in the
marksman’s books, are said to be “wood-roughed.” A cow without horns is
still called a “not cow” (_hnot_), exactly corresponding to the American
“humble” or “bumble cow,” that is, shorn, illustrating, as Mr. Akerman
notices,[227] Chaucer’s line,—

  “A not hed had he, with a brown visage.”

In the Forest, too, as in all other districts, a noticeable point is the
number of words formed by the process of onomatopoieia. Thus, to take a
few examples, we have the expressive verb to “scroop,” meaning to creak,
or grate, as a door does on rusty hinges; and again the word “hooi,”
applied to the wind whistling round a corner, or through the key-hole,
making the sound correspond to the sense. It exactly represents the
harsh creaking, as the Latin _susurrus_ and the ψιθύρισµα of Theocritus
reflect the whisperings of the wind in the pines and poplars,
resembling, as Tennyson says, “a noise of falling showers.” Again, such
words as “clocking,” “gloxing,” applied to falling, gurgling water;
“grizing,” and “snaggling,” said of a dog snarling; “whittering,” or
“whickering”—exactly equivalent to the German _wiehern_—of a young
colt’s neighing; “belloking,” of a cow’s lowing—are all here commonly
used, and are similarly formed. Names of animals take their origin in
the same way. The wry-neck, called the “barley-bird” in Wiltshire, and
the “cuckoo’s mate” and “messenger” elsewhere, is in the Forest known as
the “weet-bird,” from its peculiar cry of “weet;” which it will repeat
at short intervals for an hour together. So, too, the common green
woodpecker is here, as is in some other parts of England, called, from
its loud shrill laugh, the “yaffingale.” The goat-sucker, too, is the
“jar-bird,” so known from its jarring noise, which has made the Welsh
peasant name it the “wheel-bird” (_aderyn y droell_), and the
Warwickshire the “spinning-jenny.” In fact, a large number of birds in
every language are thus called, and to this day in the cry of the
peacock we may plainly hear its Greek name, ταῶς.

Of course, we must be on our guard against adopting the onomatopoëtic
theory as altogether explaining the origin of language. Within, however,
certain limits, especially with a peculiar class of provincialisms, it
gives us, as here, true aid.[228]

Again, as an example of phrases used by our Elizabethan poets, preserved
only by our peasantry, though in good use in America, take the word
“bottom,” so common throughout the Forest, meaning a valley, glen, or
glade. Beaumont and Fletcher and Shakspeare frequently employ it. Even
Milton, in _Paradise Regained_, says—

  “But cottage, herd, or sheepcote, none he saw,
  Only in a bottom saw a pleasant grove.”
                                                         (Book ii. 289.)

In his _Comus_, too, we find him using the compound “bottom-glade,” just
as the Americans speak to this day of the “bottom-lands” of the Ohio,
and our own peasants of Slufter Bottom, and Longslade Bottom, in the New
Forest.

“Heft,” too, is another similar instance of an Old-English word in good
use in America and to be found in the best American authors, but here in
England only employed by our rustics. To “heft” (from _hebban_, with the
inflexions, _hefest_, “hefð,” still used), signifies to lift, with the
implied meaning of weighing. So, “to heft the bee-pots,” is to lift them
in order to feel how much honey they contain. The substantive “heft” is
used for weight, as, “the heft of the branches.”

Again, also, the good Old-English word “loute” (_lutan_), to bend, bow,
and so to touch the hat, to be heard every day in the Forest, though
nearly forgotten elsewhere in England, may be found in Longfellow’s
_Children of the Lord’s Supper_:—

                    “as oft as they named the Redeemer,
  Lowly louted the boys, and lowly the maidens all courtesied.”

In fact, one-half of the words which are considered Americanisms are
good Old-English words, which we have been foolish enough to discard.

Let us now take another class of words, which will help to explain
difficult or corrupt passages in our poets. There is, for instance, the
word “bugle” (_buculus_), meaning an ox (used, as Mr. Wedgwood[229]
notices, in Deut. xiv. in the Bible, 1551), which is forgotten even by
the peasantry, and only to be seen, as at Lymington and elsewhere, on a
few inn-signs, with a picture sometimes of a cow, by way of explanation.
I have more than once thought, that when Rosalind, in _As You Like It_
(Act iii., sc. 5), speaks of Phœbe’s “bugle eyeballs,” she means not
merely her sparkling eyes, as the notes say, but rather her large,
expressive eyes, in the sense in which Homer calls Herê βοῶπις.

To give another illustration of the value of provincialisms in such
cases, let us take the word “bumble,” which not only in the New Forest
means, in its onomatopoëtic sense, to buzz, hum, or boom, as in the
common proverb, “to bumble like a bee in a tar-tub,” and as Chaucer
says, in _The Wife of Bath’s Tale_—

  “A bytoure bumbleth in the myre,”

but is also used of people stumbling or halting. Probably, in _The Merry
Wives of Windsor_ (Act iii., sc. 3), in the passage which has been of
such difficulty to the commentators, where Mrs. Ford says to the
servants, who are carrying Falstaffe in the buck-basket—“Look, how you
drumble,” which has no meaning at all, we should, instead, read this
word. It, at all events, not only conveys good sense, but is the exact
kind of word which the passage seems to expect.

Again, the compound “thiller-horse,” from the Old-English “þill,” a beam
or shaft, and so, literally, the shaft-horse, which we find in
Shakspeare under the form of “thill-horse” (_Merchant of Venice_, Act
ii., sc. 2), is here commonly used.

Then there are other forms among provincialisms which give such an
insight into the formation of language, and show the common mind of the
human race. Thus, take the word “three-cunning,”[230] to be heard every
day in the Forest, where three has the signification of intensity, just
as the Greek τρίς in composition in the compounds τρίσµακαρ, τρισάθλιος,
and other forms. So, too, the missel-thrush is called the “bull-thrush,”
with the meaning of size attached to the word, as it is more commonly to
our own “horse,” and the Greek ἵππος, and the Old-English _hrefen_,
raven, in composition.

As might be expected, from what we have seen of the population of the
Forest, the Romance element in its provincialisms is very small. Some
few words, such as “merry,” for a cherry; “fogey,” for passionate;
“futy,” for foolish; “rue,” for a hedge; “glutch,” to stifle a sob—have
crept in, besides such Forest terms as verderer, regarder, agister,
agistment, &c., but the majority are Teutonic. Old-English inflexions,
too, still remain. Such plurals as placen, housen, peasen, gripen,
fuzzen, ashen, and hosen, as we find in Daniel, ch. iii. v. 21; such
perfects as crope, from creep; lod, from lead; fotch, from fetch; and
such phrases as “thissum” (“þissum”), and “thic” for that, are daily to
be heard.

Let us, for instance, take the adjective vinney, evidently from the
Old-English _finie_, signifying, in the first place, mouldy; and, since
mould is generally blue or purplish, having gradually attached to it the
signification of colour. Thus we find the mouldy cheese not only named
“vinney,” but a roan heifer called a “vinney heifer.” The most singular
part, however, as exemplifying the changes of words, remains to be told.
Since cheese, from its colour, was called “vinney,” the word was applied
to some particular cheese, which was mouldier and bluer than others, and
the adjective was thus changed into a substantive. And we now have
“vinney,” and the tautology, “blue vinney,” as the names of a particular
kind of cheese as distinguished from the other local cheeses, known as
“ommary” and “rammel.”[231]

So also with the word “charm,” or rather “churm,” signifying, in the
first place, noise or disturbance, from the Old-English _cyrm_. We meet
it every day in the common Forest proverb, “Like a swarm of bees all in
a churm,” whilst the fowlers on the coast talk also of the wild ducks
“being in a churm,” when they are in confusion, flapping their wings
before they settle or rise. We find it, too, in the old Wiltshire song
of the “Owl’s Mishap,” to be sometimes heard on the northern borders of
the Forest:—

  “At last a hunted zo ver away,
    That the zun kum peping auver the hills,
  And the burds wakin up they did un espy,
    And wur arl in a churm az un whetted their bills.”

The word was doubtless in the first place an onomatopoieia, denoting the
humming, buzzing sound of wings. Since, however, it was particularly
connected with birds, it seems to have been used in the sense of music
and song by our Elizabethan poets, and by Milton. Thus:—

  “Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet
    With charm of earliest birds.”
                                        (_Paradise Lost_, Book iv. 642.)

And again:—

        “Morn when she ascends
  With charm of earliest birds.”
                                        (_Paradise Lost_, Book iv. 651.)

Here, however, in the New Forest, we find the original signification of
the word preserved.

Let us further notice one or two more words, which are used by Milton
and his contemporaries, and even much later, but which are now found in
the Forest, and doubtless elsewhere, as mere provincialisms. Thus,
though we do not meet his “tale,” in the sense of number, as in
_L’Allegro_,—

  “And every shepherd tells his tale,
  Under the hawthorn in the dale;”

—that is, number of sheep: we find its allied word “toll,” to count. “I
toll ten cows,” is no very uncommon expression. Then, too, we have the
word “tole,” used, as I believe it still is in America, of enticing
animals, and thus metaphorically applied to other matters. So, in this
last sense, Milton speaks of the title of a book, “Hung out like a
toling sign-post to call passengers.”[232]

Again, too, the bat is here called “rere-mouse” (from the Old-English
_hrere-mus_, from _hreran_ to flutter, literally the fluttering mouse,
the exact equivalent of the German Flitter-maus[233]), with its
varieties rennie-mouse and reiny-mouse,[234] whilst the adjective “rere”
is sometimes used, as in Wiltshire, for raw. On the other hand, the word
fliddermouse, or, as in the eastern division of Sussex, flindermouse
(from the High-German _fledermaus_), does not, to my knowledge, occur.
In the Midland counties it is often known as “leathern wings” (compare
_ledermus_); and thus, Shakspeare, with his large vocabulary, using up
every phrase and metaphor which he ever met, makes Titania say of her
fairies:—

  “Some war with rear-mice for their leathern wings.”
                            (_Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act ii., sc. 3.)

To take a few words common, not only to the New Forest, but to various
parts of the West of England, we shall see how strong is the Old-English
element here in the common speech. The housewife still baits (_betan_,
literally to repair, and so, when joined with _fyr_, to light) the fire,
and on cold days makes it blissy (connected with _blysa_, a torch). The
crow-boy in the spring sets up a gally-bagger (_gælan_, in its last
meaning to terrify), instead of the “maukin” of the north, to frighten
away the birds from the seed; and the shepherd still tends his
chilver-lamb (_cilferlamb_) in the barton (_bere tun_, literally the
barley enclosure). The labourer still sits under the lew (_hleow_, or
“hleowð,” shelter, warmth) of the hedge, which he has been ethering
(“eðer,” a hedge); and drives the stout (_stut_, a gadfly) away from his
horses; and feels himself lear (_lærnes_, emptiness), before he eats his
nammit (_nón-mete_), or his dew-bit (_deaw-bite_).

If we will only open our Bible we shall there find many an old word
which could be better explained by the Forest peasants than any one
else. Here the ploughman still talks of his “dredge,” or rather
“drudge,” that is, oats mixed with barley, just as we find the word used
in the marginal reading of Job xxiv. v. 6. Here, too, as in Amos (chap.
iv., v. 9), and other places, the caterpillar is called the
“palmer-worm.” Here, also, as in other parts of England, the word
“lease,” from the Old-English _lesan_, is far commoner than glean, and
is used just as we find it in Wycliffe’s Bible, Lev. xix., 10:—“In thi
vyneyeerd the reysonus and cornes fallynge down thou shalt not gedere,
but to pore men and pilgrimes to ben lesid thou shalt leeve.” The
goatsucker is known, as we have seen, not only as the “jar-bird,” but as
the “night-hawk,” as in Leviticus (chap. xi., v. 16) and Deuteronomy
(chap. xiv., v. 15); and also the “night-crow,” as we find it called in
Barker’s Bible (1616) in the same passages. So also the word “mote,” in
the well-known passage in St. Matthew (chap. viii., v. 3), is not here
obsolete. The peasant in the Forest speaks of the “motes,” that is, the
stumps and roots of trees, in opposition to the smaller “mores,” applied
also to the fibres of ferns and furze, whilst the sailor on the coast
calls the former “mootes,” when he dredges them up in the Channel.[235]

With this I must stop. I will only add that the study of the West Saxon
dialect in the counties of Hants, Wilts, and Dorset, is all-important.
As we go westward we shall find it less pure, and more mixed with
Keltic. As is well known, the Britons lived with the Old-English in
perfect harmony in Exeter. Their traces remain there to this day. In
these three counties, therefore, are the most perfect specimens of the
West-Saxon dialect to be found. Mr. Thorpe has noticed in the
Old-English text of _Orosius_, which is now generally ascribed to
Alfred, the change of _a_ into _o_ and _o_ into _a_, and also the same
peculiarity in Alfred’s _Boethius_.[236] This we have already, in the
last chapter, seen to be purely West-Saxon. I have no doubt whatever
that at even the present day it is not too late to find other points of
similarity, and make still clearer the West-Saxon origin of the Corpus
Christi manuscript of the _Chronicle_,[237] and how far even Alfred and
St. Swithin contributed to its pages. These are difficult questions; but
I feel sure that much additional light can even yet be obtained. Sound
criticism would show as much difference between our local dialects,
whether even Anglian, or South, or West-Saxon, as between the Doric and
Attic of Greece. I have dealt only with the broader features of the
Old-English tongue, as it is still spoken in the Forest. Enough,
however, I trust, has been shown of the value of provincialisms, even
when collected over so limited a space. Everywhere in England we shall
find Teutonic words, which are not so much the mould into which all
other forms have been cast, as the living germ of our language. Mixed
and imbedded with these, as we have also seen, we shall meet Keltic and
Romance, by both of which our language has been so influenced and
modified. Let us not be ashamed to collect them; for by them we may
explain not only obscure passages in our old authors, but doubtful
points in our very history.

    [Illustration: Bushey Bratley (Another View).]




                             CHAPTER XVII.
                              THE BARROWS.


    [Illustration: The Urns in Bratley Barrow.]

It is much to be regretted that Sir Walter Scott has left no account of
his excavations of various barrows in the Forest. However little we may
be able to determine by the evidence, or however conjectural the
inferences which we may draw, there will, at least, be this value to
this chapter, that it will put on record facts which otherwise could not
be known.

The barrows lie scattered all over the Forest, and are known to the
Foresters by the name of “butts,” some of the largest being
distinguished by local appellations. As in other parts of England, and
as in France, superstition connects them with the fairies; and so we
find on Beaulieu Plain two mounds known as the Pixey’s Cave and
Laurence’s Barrow.

My own excavations have been entirely confined to the Keltic barrows in
the northern part of the Forest.[238] But we will first of all take
those on Sway and Shirley Commons, opened by Warner.[239] The largest
stands a little to the east of Shirley Holms, close to Fetmoor Pond,
measuring about a hundred yards in circumference, and surrounded by
three smaller mounds varying from thirty to fifty yards, and two more
nearly indistinct. These two last are, I suspect, those opened by
Warner, where, after piercing the mound, he found on the natural soil a
layer of burnt earth mixed with charcoal, and below this, at the depth
of two feet, a small coarse urn with “an inverted brim,”[240] containing
ashes and calcined bones.

Some more lie to the northward, and are distinguished by being trenched.
Two of these also were opened by Warner, but he failed to discover
anything beyond charcoal and burnt earth.

His opinion was that these last belonged to the West-Saxons and the
former to the Kelts, who were slain defending their country against
Cerdic. So large a generalization, however, requires far stronger
evidence than can at present be produced.

Warner, too, is besides wrong in much of his criticism, such as that the
Teutonic nations never practised urn-burial; whilst the banks in which
he sees fortifications may be only the embankments within which dwelt a
British population.

Still there is some probability about the conjecture. A little farther
down the Brockenhurst stream are Ambrose Hole and Ampress Farm, both
names unmistakeably referring to Ambrosius Aurelianus, or Natan-Leod,
who led the Britons against their invaders. Nearer Lymington, too,
stands Buckland Rings,[241] a Roman camp, with its south and north sides
still nearly perfect, to which, perhaps, Natan-Leod fell back from
Calshot.

All this, however, must be accepted as mere conjecture. A more critical
examination of these barrows is still wanting.

Close to them, however, lies Latchmoor or Lichmoor Pond, the moor of
corpses, a name which we meet again a little to the westward in
Latchmoor Water, which flows by Ashley Common. The words are noticeable,
and in connection with Darrat’s (Dane-rout) stream, which is also not
far distant may point to a very different invasion.[242]

And now we will pass to the barrows which I have opened. The first are
situated on Bratley Plain, as the name shows, a wide heath, marked only
by a few hollies and the undulations of the scattered mounds. The
largest barrow lies close to the sixth milestone on the Ringwood Road.
In a straight line to the north, at the distance of a quarter of a mile
apart, rise three others, whilst round it on the east side lie a
quantity of small circles, so low as hardly to be discernible when the
heather is in bloom. An irregularly shaped oval, it rose in the centre
to a height of nearly six feet above the ground, measuring sixteen yards
in breadth, and twenty-two in length, with a circumference of from sixty
to sixty-five. On the south side was a depression from whence the gravel
had been obtained. We first cut a trench two yards broad, so as to take
the centre, and at about two feet and a half from the surface came upon
traces of charcoal, which increased till we reached the floor. A few
round stones, probably, as they bore some slight artificial marks, used
for slinging, and the flake of, perhaps, a flint knife, were the only
things found, and were all placed on the south side. We now cut the
mound from east to west, and on the east side, resting on the floor, we
discovered the remains of a Keltic urn. The parts were, however, in a
most fragile state, and in some instances had resolved themselves into
mere clay, and we could only obtain two small fragments, sufficient to
show the coarseness and extreme early age of the ware. No charcoal nor
osseous matter could be detected adhering to the sides, which, as we
shall see, is generally the case.

Round it, as was stated, lie a quantity of small grave-circles, varying
from twenty-five to ten yards in circumference, and scarcely better
defined than fairy-rings. Two of these I opened, and they corresponded
with the mounds on Sway Common examined by Warner, in having a grave
about three feet deep, in which we found only charcoal. This was,
however, the only point of resemblance, as they had no mound, and
contained no urn. One fact is worth noticing, that they were dug in a
remarkably hard gravelly soil, so hard that the labourers made very slow
progress even with their pick-axes. I did not excavate any more, as they
were all evidently of the same character. The choice of such a soil,
especially with the instruments they possessed, may, perhaps, show the
importance which the Britons attached to the rite of burial.

About a quarter of a mile, or rather less, from this great graveyard lay
a solitary mound, two feet and a half in height, having a circumference
of twenty-seven feet, a very common measurement, but without any trench.
Upon digging into it on the east side we quickly came, about four inches
from the surface, upon a patch of charcoal and burnt earth. Proceeding
farther, we reached two well-defined layers of charcoal, the uppermost
two feet from the top of the barrow. A band of red burnt earth,
measuring five inches, separated these two beds, in both of which in
places appeared white spots and patches of limy matter, the remains of
calcined bones. In the centre, as shown in the illustration, we found a
Keltic urn. Imbedded in a fine white burnt clay, which had hardened,
placed with its mouth uppermost, and ornamented with a rough
cable-moulding, and two small ears, it stood on the level of the natural
soil, rising to within sixteen inches of the top of the mound.

Digging on both sides, we discovered two more urns imbedded in the same
hard white sandy clay, so hard that it had to be scraped away with
knives. Like the first, they were made by hand, and when exposed quite
shone with a bright vermilion, which quickly changed to a dull grey. The
paste, however, was a light yellow, mixed with coarse gritty sand. And
the three were placed, as shown by the compass, exactly due north-east
and south-west.

A plain moulding ran round the south-west urn, which was considerably
smaller and not so well baked as the other two, and had very much fallen
to pieces from natural decay. This was placed eight inches lower than
the central urn.

The northernmost was the same size as the central, though differing from
it in the contraction of the rim, and when discovered was perfectly
whole, but was unfortunately fractured by being separated from a large
furze root, which had completely twined round the upper part. It, too,
was placed on a lower level, by four inches, than the central urn. The
two extreme urns were exactly five feet apart, and the interiors of them
all were blackened by the carbon from the charcoal, burnt earth, and
bones, which they contained.

Looking at their rude forms and large size, their straight sides, their
wide mouths, the thickness, and the rough gritty texture of the
paste,[243] the absence of nearly all ornamentation, and, with the
exception, perhaps, of a slinging stone, of all weapons, we shall not be
wrong in dating them as long anterior to the Roman invasion—how long a
more minute criticism and a greater accumulation of facts than is now
possessed, can alone determine.

There are, however, one or two points peculiarly noticeable about this
barrow—first, the enormous quantity of burnt earth, suggesting that the
funeral pyre was actually lit on the spot, which certainly was not the
case in most of the other barrows, where the charcoal is only sprinkled
here and there, or appears in the form of a small circular patch on the
floor. Secondly, the two bands of charcoal, so full of osseous matter,
would certainly go far to prove, what has been surmised by Bateman and
others, that the slaves or prisoners were immolated at the decease of
their master or conqueror.

Again, too, the different sizes and positions of the urns may, perhaps,
indicate either degrees of relationship or rank of the persons buried.
And this theory is somewhat corroborated by the contents. The central
urn was examined on the spot, and, like all the others, with the
exception of a round stone slightly indented, contained burnt earth,
limy matter, and at the bottom the larger bones, which were less
calcined, but which, owing to the want of proper means, we could not
preserve. The other two were opened at the British Museum. At the bottom
of the north-easternmost were also placed bones in a similar condition,
amongst which Professor Owen recognized the _femur_ and _radius_ of an
adult. The smallest urn also showed bones placed in the same manner at
the bottom, but in this case smaller, and amongst them Professor Owen
determined _processus dentatus_, and the body of the third cervical
vertebra, and was of opinion that they were those of a person of small
stature, or, perhaps, of a female. This is what might have been
expected. And the fact of their being put in the smallest vessel, which,
as we have noticed, was placed below the level of the others, certainly
indicates a distinction made in the mode of burial of persons of either
different ages or sexes.

The fact, too, that all the larger bones were placed by themselves at
the bottom is worth noticing, and shows that they must have been
carefully collected and separated from the burnt earth and charcoal of
the pyre.

About another quarter of a mile off rise two more barrows, measuring
exactly the same in circumference as the last, though not nearly so
high, being raised only sixteen inches above the ground. Upon opening
the southernmost, we soon came, on the east side, upon traces of
charcoal, which increased to a bed of an inch and a half in thickness as
we reached the centre. Here we found an urn of coarse pottery exactly
similar in texture to those in the previous barrow. It was, however, in
such a bad state of preservation, and so soft, from the wetness of the
ground, that the furze-roots had grown through the sides, and it
crumbled to bits on being touched. Some few pieces, though, near the
bottom, we were able to preserve. Its shape, however, was well shown by
the form which its contents had taken. It seems to have been, though
much smaller, exactly of the same rude, straight-sided, and wide-mouthed
pattern as the other urns, measuring seven inches in height, and in
circumference, near the top, two feet two inches, and at the bottom, one
foot four inches. The cast was composed entirely of burnt stones, and
black earth, and osseous matter, reduced to lime, in which the
furze-roots had imbedded themselves.

The fellow barrow, which was only about fifty yards distant, and whose
measurements were exactly the same, contained also charcoal, though not
in such large quantities, and fragments of an urn placed not in the
centre, but near the extreme western edge. The remains here were in a
still worse state of decomposition, and we could obtain no measurements,
but only one or two pieces of ware, which, in their general coarseness
and grittiness of texture, corresponded with the others, and not only
showed their Keltic manufacture, but their extreme early date.[244]

This last mound, I may add, was composed of gravel, whilst the other was
made simply of mould: and two depressions on the heath showed where the
material had been obtained.

About two miles to the north-east, close to Ocknell Pond, lies a single
barrow of much the same size as these two, though a great deal higher,
being raised in the centre to three feet and a half. We began the
excavation on the east side, proceeding to the centre, but found nothing
except some charcoal, and peculiarly-shaped rolled flints, placed on the
level of the ground.

We then made another trench from the north side, and close to some
charcoal, about a foot and a half below the raised surface, came upon
the neck of a Roman wine vessel (_ampulla_). Although we opened the
whole of the east side, we could not find the remaining portion. The
barrow bore no traces of having been previously explored, nor did the
soil appear to have been moved. The fracture was certainly not recent,
and it is very possible that some disappointed treasure-seekers in the
Middle Ages had forestalled us, and time had obliterated all their marks
in opening the mound.

    [Illustration: Neck of Roman Wine Vessel, Keltic Urn, and Flint
    Knives.]

From the position of the vessel at the top of the barrow, there had
evidently been a second interment. The remains, however, are in
accordance with what we might have expected. The barrow is situated not
far from the Romano-British potteries of Sloden, and close to it run
great banks, known as the Row-ditch, marking, in all probability, the
settlements of a Romano-British population.[245]

On Fritham Plain, not far from Gorely Bushes, lies another vast
graveyard. The grave-circles are very similar in size to those round the
large barrow on Bratley Plain, though a good deal higher, with, here and
there, some oval mounds ranged side by side, as in a modern churchyard.
In the autumn of 1862, I opened five of these, with the same result of
finding charcoal in all, though placed in different parts, but in all
instances resting on the natural ground, and giving evidence of only one
interment. As in other cases, the grave-heaps were often alternately
composed of mould and gravel. No traces of urns or celts were found, but
in one or two a quantity of small circular stones, with indistinct marks
of borings, which could hardly have accidentally collected.

About a quarter of a mile off, on the road to Whiteshoot,[246] lies,
however, a square mound, measuring nine yards each way, and averaging a
foot and a half in height. On opening it on the north side, we came upon
the fragments of an urn, but so much decayed that we could only tell
that they were, probably, Keltic. On the west side, another trench,
which had been made, showed the presence of charcoal, which kept
increasing till we reached the centre, where we found what appeared to
be the remains of three separate urns, placed in a triangle at about a
yard apart. These also were in the same decayed state, and crumbled to
pieces as we endeavoured to separate them from the soil. With some
difficulty we managed to preserve a few fragments which were identical
with those which had been previously discovered in the other barrows at
Bratley. They contained, like most of the other vessels, burnt stones
and white osseous matter reduced to lime. There seems, however, to have
been some difference in their texture with that of the fragments found
on the north side, which were less gritty and coarse, and which bore no
traces of charcoal or lime.[247]

We will now leave Fritham, and cross Sloden and Amberwood Plantation.
Not far from Amberwood Corner, and above Pitt’s Enclosure, stand two
barrows. The largest was opened thirty years ago by a labouring man,
who, to use his own language, “constantly dreamt that he should there
find a crock of gold.” His opening was rewarded by discovering only some
charcoal. In 1851, the Rev. J. Pemberton Bartlett also explored it with
still less success. It is, however, a remarkable barrow, and differs in
character from any of the preceding, being composed in the interior of
large sub-angular flints, and cased on the outside with a rampart of
earth. Beyond it lies another, very different in style, being made only
of earth. This was also opened by Mr. Bartlett, who found some pieces of
charcoal, and small fragments of a very coarsely-made urn.

About a mile away on Butt’s Plain rise five more barrows, and beyond
them again two more. Of the first five, two were explored by Mr.
Bartlett, who was unsuccessful, and two by myself.

The two which I opened lie on the right of the track leading from
Amberwood to the Fordingbridge road. The northernmost was considerably
the largest, having a circumference of fifty yards, and was composed
simply of gravel and earth. In it we found only a circle of charcoal
placed nearly in the centre on the level of the ground.

The other was more remarkable. It measured only thirty yards in
circumference, but was composed in the centre of raised earth, above
which were piled large rolled flints, making a stratum of from two to
three feet in depth on the sides, but gradually becoming thinner as it
reached the centre, which was barely covered. It thus totally differed
from that near Amberwood, where the earth flanked the stones instead of
being the nucleus round which they were placed. In it we found a circle
of charcoal ingrained with limy matter, a few remains of much calcined
bones, and a fine stone hammer bored with two holes slantwise, to give a
greater purchase to the handle.

Besides these, I opened a solitary barrow situated between Handycross
Pond and Pinnock Wood, close to Akercombe Bottom. It measured
twenty-seven yards in circumference, and three feet in height. After
digging into it near the centre, we found in the white sand, of which
the mound was chiefly composed, a good deal of charcoal on and below the
level of the ground, but failed to discover any traces of an urn,
although we went down to a considerable depth.

Further, a solitary oval mound stood on the south side of South Bentley,
half way between it and Anses Wood. It measured two feet and a half in
height, twelve yards in length, and seven in breadth. This also I
opened, but failed to find even any remains of charcoal, and, from the
easy-moving nature of the soil, am inclined to suspect that it was
modern, and raised for some other purpose than that of burial. On the
east side was a depression filled with water, from whence the soil was
taken.

The most remarkable barrow, if it can be so called, in this part of the
Forest, is at Black Bar, at the extreme west end of Linwood, measuring
nearly four hundred yards in circumference, and rising to the height of
forty feet or more. It is evidently in part factitious, for upon sinking
a pit ten feet deep we reached charcoal mixed with Roman pottery, but
not of a sepulchral character.

In its general appearance the mound is not unlike the famous Barney
Barn’s Hill, in Dibden Bottom, and close to it rises another, known as
the Fir Pound, not much inferior in size. I made other openings on the
top and sides, but discovered nothing further. To excavate it thoroughly
would require an enormous time, and would in all probability not repay
the labour. It looks, however, by the depressions on the summit, as if
it had once been the site of Keltic dwellings. And this is in some
measure corroborated by a small mound close to it, where, as if
apparently left or thrown away, we found placed in a hole a small
quantity of extremely coarse pottery—the coarsest and thickest which I
have ever seen. Again, too, in a field close by, known as Blackheath
Meadow, we everywhere met traces of Romano-British ware, very similar in
shape and texture to that in Sloden, described in the next chapter.

The whole district just round here is most interesting. About a mile to
the north is Latchmoor Stream and Latchmoor Green, marking, doubtless,
some burial-ground; and not far off stands one of those elevated places,
common in the Forest, with the misleading title of Castle.

I must not, too, forget to mention some barrows on Langley Heath, just
outside the present eastern boundary of the Forest, and especially
interesting from being situated so near to Calshot, where, as we have
seen, Cerdic probably landed. Seven of them were opened by the Rev. J.
Pemberton Bartlett. The mounds, averaging about twenty yards in
circumference, were, in some cases, slightly raised, as much as a foot
and a half, though in others nearly on a level with the natural surface
of the soil. In them all was found a single grave, though, in one
instance, two, running about three feet in depth, and containing only
burnt earth and charcoal. They thus exactly corresponded, with the
exception of the slight mound, with those on Bratley Plain.

With this we must conclude.[248] It would not be difficult to frame some
theory from these results. I, however, here prefer to allow the simple
facts to remain. As we have seen, the barrows in this part of the
Forest, like all others of the same period, contained nothing, with the
exception of the single stone-hammer, and the slinging pebbles, and the
flake of flint, but nearly plain urns, full of only burnt earth,
charcoal, and human bones. No iron, bronze, nor bone-work of any sort,
was found, which would still further go to prove their extreme early
age. Curiously enough, too, no teeth, bones, nor horn-cores of animals
were discovered, as so often are in Keltic barrows.[249] Like all
others, too, of an early date, there seem to have been several burials
in the same grave, though this, as on Fritham Plain, is very far from
being always the case. Some little regularity evidently prevailed with
the different septs. Some, as at Bratley, placed the charred remains in
a grave from two to three feet in depth; others, as at Butt’s Plain, on
the mere ground. On the other hand, a good deal of caprice seems to have
been exercised as to the materials with which each barrow was formed,
and the way and the shape in which it was built, as also the arrangement
of the charcoal.

Further, perhaps, the different grades of life and relationship were
marked by the presence and position of the urns. Whether this be so or
no, it is certain that the mounds here which contained mortuary vessels
were, as a rule, more elevated, and in nearly all instances placed by
themselves. The fact, too, of the cube-shaped mound with its remains of
four urns should be kept in mind.

Little more can with certainty be said. The flint knives which have been
picked up in the Forest, the stone hammer in the grave, the clumsy form
and make of the urns, the places, too, of burial—in the wide furzy
Ytene, in after-times the Bratleys, and Burleys, and Oakleys, of the
West-Saxons—all show a people whose living was gained rather by hunting
than agriculture or commerce.

    [Illustration: Barrows on Beaulieu Plain.]




                             CHAPTER XVIII.
                THE ROMAN AND ROMANO-BRITISH POTTERIES.


    [Illustration: Wine-Flask, Drinking-Cups, and Bowls.]

From time to time the labourer, in draining or planting in the Forest,
digs down upon pieces of earthenware, whilst in the turfy spots the mole
throws up the black fragments in her mound of earth. The names, too, of
Crockle—Crock Kiln—and Panshard Hill, have from time immemorial marked
the site of at least two potteries. Yet even these had escaped all
notice until Mr. Bartlett, in 1853, gave an account of his excavations,
and showed the large scale on which the Romans carried on their works,
and the beauty of their commonest forms and shapes.[250]

Since then both Mr. Bartlett and myself have at different times opened
various other sites, and some short notice of their contents may,
perhaps, not be without interest.

Fifty years ago, when digging the holes for the gate-posts at the
south-west corner of Anderwood Enclosure, the workmen discovered some
perfect urns and vases. These have, of course, long since been lost. But
as the place was so far distant from the potteries at Crockle, I
determined to re-open it. The site, however, had been much disturbed.
Enough though could be seen to show that there had once been a small
kiln, round which were scattered for three or four yards, in a black
mould of about a foot and a half in depth, the rims, and handles, and
bottoms of vessels of Romano-British ware. The specimens were entirely
confined to the commonest forms, all ornamentation being absent, and the
ware itself of a very coarse kind, the paste being grey and gritty.

About a mile and a half off, in Oakley Enclosure, close to the Bound
Beech, I was, however, more fortunate. Here the kiln was perfect. It was
circular, and measured six yards in circumference, its shape being
well-defined by small hand-formed masses of red brick-earth. The floor,
about two feet below the natural surface of the ground, was paved with a
layer of sand-stones, some of them cut into a circular shape, so as to
fit the kiln, the upper surfaces being tooled, whilst the under remained
in their original state. As at Anderwood, the ware was broken into small
fragments, and was scattered round the kiln for five or six yards. The
specimens were here, too, of the coarsest kind, principally pieces of
bowls and shallow dishes, and, perhaps, though of a different age, not
so unlike as might at first sight be supposed to the

  “Sympuvium Numæ, nigrumque catinum,
  Et Vaticano fragiles de monte patellæ.”

These appear to be the only kilns which, perhaps from the unfitness of
the clay, were worked in this part of the Forest, and were used only in
manufacturing the most necessary utensils in daily life.

Of far greater extent are the works at Sloden, covering several acres.
All that remains of these, too, are, I am sorry to say, mere fragments
of a coarse black earthenware. And although I opened the ground at
various points, I never could meet with anything perfect. Yet the spot
is not without great interest. The character and nature of the
south-western slope exactly coincide with Colt Hoare’s description of
Knook Down and the Stockton Works.[251] Here are the same irregularities
in the ground, the same black mould, the same coarse pottery, the same
banks, and mounds, and entrenchments, all indicating the settlement of a
Romano-British population. Half-way down the hill, not far from two
large mounds marking the sites of kilns, stretch trenches and banks
showing the spaces within which, perhaps, the potters’ huts stood, or
where the cultivated fields lay, whilst at one place five banks meet in
a point, and between two of them appear some slight traces of what may
have been a road.[252]

At the bottom of the hill, but more to the south-westward, stands the
Lower Hat, where the same coarse ware covers the earth, and where the
presence of nettles and chickweed shows that the place has once been
inhabited.

The Crockle and Island Thorn potteries lie about a mile to the
north-east. At Crockle there were, before Mr. Bartlett opened them,
three mounds, varying in circumference from one hundred and eighty to
seventy yards, each, as I have ascertained, containing at least three or
four, but probably more, kilns. As the lowest part of the smallest and
easternmost mound had not been entirely explored, I determined to open
this piece. Beginning at the extremity, we soon came upon a kiln, which,
like the others discovered by Mr. Bartlett, only showed its presence by
the crumbling red brick earth. An enormous old oak-stump had grown close
beside it, and around the bole were heaped the drinking-vessels and
oil-flasks, which its now rotten roots had once pierced.

    [Illustration: Necks of Oil-Flasks.]

    [Illustration: Necks of Wine-Vessels and Oil-Flask.]

Nothing could better show, as the excavation proceeded, the former state
of the works. Here were imbedded in the stiff yellow putty-like clay, of
which they were made, masses of earthenware, the charcoal, with which
they were fired, still sticking to their sides—pieces of
vitreous-looking slag, and a grey line of cinders mixed with the red
brick earth of the kiln. The ware remained just as it was cast aside by
the potter. You might tell by the bulging of the sides, and the bright
metallic glaze of the vessels, how the workman had overheated the
kiln;—see, too, by the crookedness of the lines, where his hand had
missed its stroke. All was here. The potter’s finger-marks were still
stamped upon the bricks. Here lay the brass coin which he had dropped,
and the tool he had forgotten, and the plank upon which he had tempered
the clay.[253]

The Island Thorn potteries had been so thoroughly opened by Mr.
Bartlett, that I there made but little further explorations, and must
refer my readers to his account,[254] only here adding that the ware
scarcely differed, except in shape and patterns, from that at Crockle.

About a mile westward stands Pitt’s Enclosure, where in three different
places rise low mounds, two of which, since the publication of his
account, have been opened by Mr. Bartlett, but from which he only
obtained fragments.

The third, which I explored in 1862, was remarkable for the number of
kilns placed close together, separated from each other only by mounds of
the natural soil. In all, there were five, ranged in a semicircle, and
paved with irregular masses of sandstone. They appear to have been used
at the time at which they were left for firing different sorts of ware.
Close to the westernmost kiln, we found only the necks of various
unguent bottles, whilst the easternmost oven seems to have been employed
in baking only a coarse red panchion, on which a cover (_operculum_),
with a slight knob for a handle, fitted. Of these last we discovered an
enormous quantity, apparently flung away into a deep hole.

Near the central kilns we found one or two new shapes and patterns, but
they were, I am sorry to say, very much broken, the ware not being equal
in strength or fineness to that at Crockle. The most interesting
discovery, however, were two distinct heaps of white and fawn-coloured
clay and red earth, placed ready for mixing, and a third of the two
worked together, fit for the immediate use of the potter.

Near to these works stretch, on a smaller scale, the same embankments
which mark the Sloden potteries. One is particularly noticeable,
measuring twenty-two feet in width, and running in the shape of the
letter Z. In the central portion I cut two trenches, but could discover
nothing but a circle of charcoal, looking as if it was the remains of a
workman’s fire, placed on the level of the natural soil. Another trench
I opened at the extreme end, as also various pits near the embankment,
but failed to find anything further.

At Ashley Rails, also, close by, stand two more mounds, which cover the
remains of more ware. These I only very partially opened, for the black
mould was very shallow, and the specimens the same as I had found in
Pitt’s Wood.

Besides these, there are, as mentioned in the last chapter, extensive
works at Black Heath Meadow at the west-end of Linwood, but they are
entirely, like those in Sloden, Oakley, and Anderwood, confined to the
manufacture of coarse Romano-British pottery. This last ware seems to
differ very little in character or form. The same shapes of jars (copied
from the Roman _lagenæ_) were found by Mr. Kell near Barnes Chine in the
Isle of Wight,[255] though at Black Heath, as in the other places in the
Forest, handles, through which cords were probably intended to pass,
with flat dishes, and saucer-like vessels (shaped similar to _pateræ_),
all, however, in fragments, occurred.[256]

Such is a brief account of the potteries in the Forest. Their extent
was, with two exceptions, restricted to one district, where the Lower
Bagshot Sands, with their clays, crop out, and to the very same bed
which the potters at Alderholt, on the other side of the Avon, still at
this hour work.

The two exceptions at Oakley and Anderwood are situated just at the
junction of the Upper Bagshot Sands and the Barton Clays, which did not
suit so well, and where the potteries are very much smaller, and the
ware coarser and grittier.

The date of the Crockle potteries may be roughly guessed by the coins,
found there by Mr. Bartlett, of Victorinus.[257] These were much worn,
and, as Mr. Akerman suggests, might be lost about the end of the third
century; but the potteries were probably worked till or even after the
Romans abandoned the island.

There is nothing to indicate any sudden removal, but, on the contrary,
everything shows that the works were by degrees stopped, and the
population gradually withdrew. None of the vessels are quite perfect,
but are what are technically known as “wasters.” The most complete have
some slight flaw, and are evidently the refuse, which the potter did not
think fit for the market.

The size of the works need excite no surprise, when we remember how much
earthenware was used in daily life by the Romans—for their floors, and
drinking-cups, and oil and wine flasks, and unguent vessels, and
cinerary urns, and boxes for money. The beauty, however, of the forms,
even if it does not approach that of the Upchurch and Castor pottery,
should be noticed. The flowing lines, the scroll-work patterns, the
narrow necks of the wine-flasks and unguent vessels, all show how well
the true artist understands that it is the real perfection of Art to
make beauty ever the handmaid of use.

    [Illustration: Patterns from Fragments.]

    [Illustration: Patterns from Fragments.]

Another thing, too, is worthy of notice, that the artist was evidently
unfettered by any given pattern or rule. Whatever device or form was at
the moment uppermost in his mind, that he carried out, his hand
following the bent of his fancy. Hence the endless variety of patterns
and forms. No two vessels are exactly alike. In modern manufactures,
however, the smooth uniformity of ugliness most admirably keeps down any
symptoms of the prodigal luxuriance of beauty.[258]

We must, however, carefully beware of founding any theory, from the
existence of these potteries, that the Forest must therefore have been
cultivated in the days of the Conqueror. The reason why the Romans chose
the Forest is obvious,—not from its fertility, but because it supplied
the wood to fire the kilns; the same cause which, centuries after, made
Yarranton select Ringwood for his smelting-furnaces. We must, too, bear
in mind that after the Romans abandoned the island the natives soon went
back to their primitive state of semi-barbarism; and further, that the
interval between the Roman occupation and the Norman Conquest was nearly
as great as that between ourselves and the Conqueror—a period long
enough for the Kelts, and West-Saxons, and Danes to have swept away in
their feuds all traces of civilization.

But what we should see in them is that beauty of form, which in simple
outline has seldom been excelled, proclaiming a people who should in
their descendants be the future masters of Art, as then they were of
warfare.

The history of a nation may be more plainly read by its manufactures
than by its laws or constitution. Its true æsthetic life, too, should be
determined not so much by its list of poets or painters, as by the
beauty of the articles in daily use.

And so still at Alderholt, not many miles off, the same beds of clay are
worked, and jars, and flasks, and dishes made, but with a difference
which may, perhaps, enable us to understand our inferiority in Art to
the former rulers of our island.

What further we should see in the whole district, is the way in which
the Romans stamped their iron rule upon every land which they conquered.
Everywhere in the Forest remain their traces. Urns, made at these
potteries, full of their coins, have been dug up at Anderwood and
Canterton. Nails at Cadenham, millstones at Studley Head, bricks at
Bentley, iron slag at Sloden, with the long range of embankments
stretching from wood to wood, and the camps at Buckland Rings and
Eyeworth, show that they well knew both how to conquer in war and to
rule in peace.

    [Illustration: Oil-Flask, Drinking-Cups, Bowl, and Jar.]




                              CHAPTER XIX.
               PARISH REGISTERS AND CHURCHWARDENS’ BOOKS.


    [Illustration: Boldre Church.]

As the monasteries of former days preserved the general records of the
times, so, in a minor degree, do our churches preserve the special
history of our villages. In the social life of the past our Church Books
are the counterpart of our Corporation Books, performing quite as much
for their own parishes as the latter for their boroughs; not only
giving, in the register, a yearly census of the population, but by the
Churchwardens’ Accounts the social and religious life of each period.

Added to this also the clergyman, having nowhere else to chronicle them,
has often entered in his register the passing events of the day; so that
this further possesses, at times, a wider historical interest than could
have been expected, giving us often glimpses of the views of men, who,
however unsympathetic with the changes and fortunes of the hour, still
carry, from their office and position, some not inconsiderable weight.

All these books are far too seldom consulted. The few notes we shall
make are by no means given as examples of what may be elsewhere found,
but must be looked upon only as extracts from the books of a district,
where we naturally could expect little of any general interest.

The New Forest has never been, since registers became the law of the
land, the scene of any of the great events of English history—never the
theatre of the Civil Wars, as the Midland Counties, where entries of
victories and defeats, and battles and sieges, are mixed with the
burials and births.

Various causes, too, especially the scanty and scattered population,
have contributed to the late date at which nearly all the Forest
registers commence.[259] Still, at Eling, there occurs the second
earliest parish register in Hampshire, beginning one year before
Cromwell’s Act has been passed; showing, as was before noticed, that
this part of the Forest was always the richest, and, consequently, the
most civilized.[260] In this register we find the following most
interesting entry:—

  “1654. Thomas Burges, the sonne of William Burges and Elizabeth
  Russel, the daughter of Elizabeth, the now wife of Stephen Newland,
  were asked three Sabbath dayes, in the Parish Church of Eling: sc:
  Apriel 16th, Ap^r 23rd, Ap^r 30th, and were marr: by Richard L^d
  Crumwell, May xxii^d.”

I need scarcely add that it was under the Protector that an Act of
Parliament was passed in 1653, enabling any persons, after the due
proclamation of the banns in the church or chapel, or in the
market-place, on three market days, to be married by a simple
affirmation before a magistrate; thus in a remarkable way nearly
anticipating modern legislature.[261] The Protector’s son, at the date
of this entry, was probably living at Hursley, about ten miles away to
the north.

Going across to the other side of the Forest, we shall, at Ellingham,
find, in the Churchwardens’ Books, an entry in a different way quite as
interesting. The leaf is, I am sorry to say, very much torn, and,
towards the lower part, half of it is wanting. I give, however, the
extract as it stands, indicating the missing passages by the breaks:—

“Martii 13. Anno dõm. 1634. A special license, granted by the moste
reverende ffather in God, William Lord Archbishop of Canterbury his
Grace, under his Grace’s hand and seale, used in the like grants, dated
the nyneteenth day of ffebruarie, Anno dõm. 1634, and second yeare of
his Grace’s translation. And confirmed by the Letters patents of our
Sov̄raigne Lord Charles the King’s ma.^tie that now is ... Under the
Greate Seale of England ffor S^r White Beconsaw of this parish and
county of South̄ton ... (and) Dame Edith hys wife ffor the tyme of their
naturell (lives) ... to eate flesh on the daies p̄hibited by the Lawe
... (upon condition of their giving to the) poore of the pīsh ...
Thirteene shillings....”

Whether or no the knyght and his lady were to give the sum yearly, as
seems most probable, it is impossible, from the torn condition of the
leaf, to say. Their daughter was the noble Alice Lisle. The licence, of
course, refers to the prohibition against eating meat on Fridays and
Saturdays, and other specified times, first made by Elizabeth for the
encouragement of the English fisheries, which had even in her reign
begun to decay.[262] And now that we are on the subject of
Churchwardens’ Books, let me give some brief extracts from those of
Ellingham:—

   “1556.  Itm̄ for waxe                             ix_d._
           Itm̄ for a gyrdle                         iij_d._
           Itm̄ for waxe and for makynge of y^e      xv_d._
           paschall and fontetapers
           First payed for a rod (rood)              xij_s._
           Itm̄ payed for the paschall and           ij_s._ viij_d._”
           fontetapers
   “1558.  First payed for the pascall and           xxij_d._
           fontetapers
           Itm̄ payed for frankeincense              i_d._”

Such notices well prove how quick and strong was the reaction from
Protestantism to Catholicism when favoured by the State. Again, to still
further show the variety of entries, let me make some extracts from the
Fordingbridge Churchwardens’ Books:—

   “1636.  I^tm for a fox-head                       0 1^s 0
           I^tm for one badgers head                 0 1 0
           I^tm for one fox-head                     0 1 0”

Among miscellaneous notices, as giving the average wages of the day, and
the prices of various articles, let me add also the following from the
same accounts:—

   “1609.  I^tm laide out for a pint of muskadine    vii^d”
   “1616.  I^t for viij dayes’ worke for three men   xxiij^s
           I^t for a new beel-Rope                   iij^s iiij^d
           I^t for a daye’s worke for three men      iij^s iij^d
           I^t for a booke of artykeels              iij^s
           I^t for mates (mats) about the            xiij^d
           Communyon tabelle
           I^t payde the Person for keeping the      iij^s iiij^d”
           Stocke

These accounts, too, like all others, are full of items for the repairs
of the bells and bell-ropes, confirming what may be found in the
narratives of old French and Italian travellers concerning our English
passion for bell-ringing. The following looks very much like cause and
effect:—

   “1636.  Itm̄ to the Ringers one y^e Kinges daye   ij^s vj^d
           Itm̄ for one belroape                     i^s iv^d”

The “King’s day” was that on which the King ascended the throne. Again,
to show the mixed and varied contents of the Churchwardens’ Books, we
will once more go back to those of Ellingham. Under the date of 1556 we
find:—

           “Itm̄ for a baudericke of the great bell  xij^d
           Itm̄ for a lanterne                       viij^d
           Itm̄ for nailes and sope                  iij^d”

Under the head of “Layinges out in the secunde yere,” meaning 1557, we
meet:—

           “Itm̄ for a pot of claye                  iij^d
           Itm̄ payed for ij bokes                   x^s
           Itm̄ payed for smoke sylver               ij^s xi^d”

And, again, under the “Layinges out in the thyrdde yere,” we find:—

           “Itm̄ payed for storynge of the           xviij^d
           tythynge harnesse
           Itm̄ for white lether                     iij^d
           Itm̄ for lyme and vj creste tyles         xxi^d
           Itm̄ for surplus for the clerke           iij^s
           (clergyman)
           Itm̄ for smoke silvar                     xvij^d”

All these entries, to the church historian, and no less to the general
student, cannot be without peculiar interest. The smoke silver, which so
frequently occurs, is either the money paid for certain privileges of
cutting fuel, which, as we have seen, was formerly the case in the
Forest, or an assessment on the houses according to the number of
hearths, but more probably the former.[263] The general reader will
scarcely care for more, but I trust elsewhere to give further extracts
from these most interesting books.

Turning back to the Registers, let me add from the Ibbesley Parish
Register Book, as so few people have seen a specimen, an entry of an
affidavit of burial in a woollen shroud, in compliance with the Act
passed in 1679, for the encouragement of the woollen manufacture in
England.[264] It thus runs, placed opposite to the entry of the person’s
burial, and written in the same handwriting:—“Jan. 9^th, 1678/79, I
rec^d a certificate from Mr. Roger Clavell, Justice of y^e peace at
Brokenhurst, that Thomas King and Anthony King, sons of Anthony King,
deceased, did make oath before him, the sayd Roger Clavell, that the
aforesayd Antony King was buried according to the late Act of
Parliament.”

And again, opposite to the entries of their deaths, we find—“November
11^th.—Certified by John Torbuck, Vicar of Ellingham, y^t Edward Baily
and Nicholas Baily, of Ibsely, were buried in woollen only.”

Pope’s lines on Mrs. Oldfield need hardly here be quoted. To conclude,
of the parish books in the district let me only say that at
Fordingbridge may be found an inventory of all the church furniture for
1554; and at Ibbesley, lists of collections “towards the redemption of
the poor slaves out of Turkey,” “for the poor French Protestants,” “for
the redemption of captives,” and “for the distressed Protestants beyond
the sea,”—all testifying to the social and moral condition of the
people, without which it is impossible to give the history of any
district or any country.

    [Illustration: The Norman Font in Brockenhurst Church.]




                              CHAPTER XX.
                              THE GEOLOGY.


    [Illustration: The Barton Cliffs.]

I have endeavoured, whenever there was an opportunity, to point out the
natural history of the Forest, feeling sure that, from a lack of this
knowledge, so many miss the real charms of the country. “One green field
is like another green field,” cried Johnson. Nothing can be so untrue.
No two fields are ever the same. A brook flowing through the one, a
narrow strip of chalk intersecting the other, will make them as
different as Perthshire from Essex. Even Socrates could say in the
_Phædrus_, τὰ µὲν οὖν χωρία καὶ τὰ δένδρα οὐδέν µ’ ἐθέλει διδάσκειν. and
this arose from the state, or rather absence, of all Natural Science at
Athens. Had that been different he would have spoken otherwise.

The world is another place to the man who knows, and to the man who is
ignorant of Natural History. To the one the earth is full of a thousand
significations, to the other meaningless.

First of all, then, for a few words on the geology of the Forest; for
upon this everything depends—not only the scenery, but its Flora and
Fauna, the growth of its trees and the course of its streams. Throughout
it is composed of the Middle-Eocene, the Osborne and Headon Beds capping
the central portion, with their fluvio-marine formation. The Upper
Bagshot develops itself below them, and is succeeded by the Barton
Clays, so well exposed on the coast, and finally by the Bracklesham
Beds, which crop out in the valley of Canterton, trending in a
south-easterly direction to Dibden.

Here, then, where the New Forest stands, in the Eocene period, rolled an
inland sea, whose waves lashed the Wiltshire chalk hills on the north,
moulding, with every stroke of their breakers, its chalk flints into
pebbles, dashing them against its cliffs, as the waves do at this very
hour those very same pebbles along the Hurst beach. Its south-western
boundary-line between Ballard Head and the Needles was rent asunder by
volcanic action, and the chalk-flints flung up vertically mark to this
day the violence of the disruption.

Long after this the Isle of Wight was altogether separated by the Solent
from the mainland, but still ages before the historic period. The
various traditions, as to the former depth of the channel, how Sir
Bevis, of Southampton, waded across it, how, too, the carts brought the
Binstead stone for building Beaulieu Abbey over the dry bed at low
water, have been previously given. The passage, too, in Diodorus Siculus
has been already examined,[265] and there can be no doubt,
notwithstanding his also making it, like the traditions, a peninsula at
low water, that his Ictis is the Isle of Wight and not St. Michael’s
Mount. The mere local evidence of the mass of tin, the British road—more
like a deep trench than a road—still plainly traceable across the
Forest, the names along it corresponding with that of its continuation
in the Island, would alone, most assuredly, show that this was the place
whence the first traders, and, in after-times, the Romans, exported
their tin. We must, however, remember that the channel of the Solent was
caused by depression rather than by excavation; and that at this moment
an alteration in the levels, as noticed by Mr. Austen,[266] is going on
eastward of Hurst Castle.

The drift, which spreads over the whole of the New Forest, is not very
interesting. No elephants’ tusks, or elks’ horns, so far as I know, have
ever been discovered. A few species of _Terebratula_ and _Pecten_, some
flint knives, and the _os inominatum_, of probably _Bos longifrons_,
mentioned farther on, are the only things at present found. Still, in
one way, it is most interesting, as completely disproving the
Chroniclers’ accounts that, before its afforestation by the Conqueror,
the district of the Forest was so fertile. The fact is a sheer
impossibility. No wheat could ever be grown on this great bed of
chalk-gravel, which is varied only by patches of sand.

But nowhere, perhaps, in the world can we see the stratification of the
upper portion of the Middle-Eocene better than at Hordle and Barton, as
the sea serves to keep the different strata exposed. The beds dip
easterly with a fall of about one in a hundred, though, at the extreme
west, at High Cliff, it is much less, and here and there in some few
places they lie almost horizontally.[267] At Hordle they seem to have
been deposited in a river of a very uniform depth. There is but one
single fault in the whole series, just under Mead End, where all the
beds have alike suffered. Here and there, however, they are deposited
with an undulating line; and here and there, too, a rippled surface
occurs, caused by the action of small waves. The river appears to have
varied very much in the amount and force of its stream, as some of the
beds, where the shells are less frequent, have been deposited very
rapidly, whilst others, where the organic remains are more abundant,
have been laid on very slowly and in very still water.[268]

It will be impossible to examine all the beds. One or two, however, may
be mentioned. And since the beds rise at the east we will begin from
Milford. First of all, at Mineway, there runs a remarkable band of fine
sand, the “Middle Marine Bed,” discovered some twenty-five years ago, by
Mr. Edwards, and subsequently successfully worked by Mr. Higgins. It is
seldom, however, exposed for more than a few yards; but that is
sufficient to show, that after the elevation of the beds beneath they
once more subsided, and the sea came over them again, and after that
they were once again elevated.

Just below Hordle House rises the “Crocodile Bed,” running out of the
cliff about three hundred yards from Beckton Bunny. The lowest part of
it teems with fish-scales, teeth, crocodile plates, ophidian vertebræ,
seed vessels, and other vegetable matter, very often mixed in a
coprolitic bed, just beneath a band of tough clay, the specimens being
more frequent to the east than the west. The accompanying section (I.)
will, perhaps, not only serve to show the situation of the bed, but also
those above and below. My measurements will be found to differ slightly
from Sir Charles Lyell’s[269] and Dr. Wright’s;[270] but this is owing
to their having been taken in different places.

Immediately under the “Leaf Bed,” which, as seen in the opposite
section, rises from the shore to the west of Hordle House, comes the
lowest bed of the Lower Freshwater Series, formed of blue sandy clay
sixteen feet in thickness, from whence Mr. Falconer obtained so many of
his mammalian remains.[271]

  [Illustration: Section I. _of Hordle Cliff, a little to the west of
        Hordle House.—The beds here incline at an angle of 5°._]


  Ferruginous flint gravel interstratified with sand—18 feet.
  Light blue marl in the upper part running into sand—12 feet.
  Ligneous bed—12 inches.
  Bluish marl running into shades of light grey, caused by the
          comminuted shelly matter—15 feet.
  Ligneous bed—9 inches.
  Green marl—3 feet 6 inches.
  Limestone—4 inches.
  Lignite—1 inch.
  Green marl—5 feet 4 inches.
  Grey sand—portion of Dr. Wright’s Crocodile Bed—4 feet.
  Fossil bed—9 to 13 inches.
    _a, b_—Bands of tough brown clay, not continuous.
    _c_—Coprolite bed appearing here and there, and always full of
          organic remains.
  Sand bed, uncertain—1 foot 8 inches.
  Light blue marl—4 feet 6 inches.
  Grey sand—2 feet 5 inches.
  Leaf bed, which here rises from the beach—18 inches.
  The present sea-shore.


It is a bed, however, which is seldom open, and can be worked only at
particular tides. It may easily be recognized as lying between the Leaf
Bed and the well-marked Lignite Bed, which shows the first traces of
salt-water, and where, in the lower portion, _Neritina concava_ may be
abundantly found. This last bed may be well seen at Beckton Bunny
(Section II.). The lignite, however, though it will give a good deal of
heat, will not blaze. Locally it is sometimes used for making black
paint.

[Illustration: Section II. _of Beckton Cliff immediately to the west of
                              the Bunny_.]


  Flint gravel—scarcely more than 3 or 4 feet, with an uncertain band of
          white sand.
  Lignite—3 inches.
  Brown clay—3 inches.
  Lignite—3 inches.
  Marl and sand—2 feet 2 inches.
  Ligneous bed, containing shells much broken—8 inches.
  Grey sand—2 feet 4 inches.
  Orange-coloured sand, with very few fossils at this point, though
          plenty eastward—15 feet 9 inches.
  Olive bed. Fossils abundant—27 feet 3 inches.
  The present sea-shore.


Passing on to Beckton Bunny we reach the first true bed of the Lower
Marine Formation, which rises a little eastward of that ravine. I have
distinguished it as the Olive Bed, from the abundance of specimens of
_Oliva Branderi_, forming the equivalent to number eighteen in Dr.
Wright’s arrangement, and which, when worked, emits a strong smell of
sulphur.

Immediately under the Olive Bed, as seen in the opposite section (II.),
taken immediately on the west side of the Bunny, rises grey sand,
seventeen feet and a half in thickness, possessing only a few casts of
shells. The next bed, however, composed also of grey sand, rising about
three hundred yards farther on, is, perhaps, the richest in the whole of
this Marine series, and its shells the best preserved. It may at once be
recognized by the profusion of _Chama squamosa_, from which it has been
called the Chama Bed. Specimens of _Arca Branderi_ and _Solen gracilis_
may be found here as perfect as on the day they were deposited.

A little farther on, nearly under the Gangway, rises the Barton clay,
encrusted with _Crassatella sulcata_.[272] And here, on looking at the
cliff, we may notice how all the beds, as they rise westward, gradually
lose their clayey character, and run into sand, which will account for
this part of the cliff foundering so fast. The water percolates through
the sand down to the Barton Beds, and the loose mass above is thus
launched into the sea.

Below the Barton Coastguard Station rises another bed of green clay,
containing sharks’ teeth and the bones of fish. About a mile farther on,
the High Cliff Beds emerge rich with _Cassis ambigua_ and _Cassidaria
nodosa_. And below them, seen in the channel of the stream flowing
through Chewton Bunny, rises a bed of bright metallic-looking, green
clay, the _Nummulina Prestwichiana_ Bed of Mr. Fisher, containing
sharks’ teeth and some few shells. Beyond, a little to the west of High
Cliff Castle, occurs the well-marked Pebble Bed, the commencement of the
Bracklesham Series, containing rolled chalk flints, and casts of shells.
Next follow grey sands full of fossil wood and vegetable matter, marked
by a course of oxydized ironstone-septaria. Then succeeds another Pebble
Bed, and lastly appear the grey Bracklesham Sands.[273]

We have thus gone through the principal beds, both of the Freshwater and
Marine Series, as far as they are exposed in this section along the
sea-coast. The fluvio-marine beds stretch away eastward as far as
Beaulieu and Hythe, but their clays here contain very few shells. On the
other hand, the Bracklesham Beds trend away northward towards
Stoney-Cross, appearing in the valley, and cropping out again on the
other side of the Southampton Water.

Some few words must be said about them. The highest beds, known as the
Hunting Bridge Beds, occur in Copse St. Leonards, not far from the
Fritham Road.[274] In a descending order, separated by thirty or forty
feet of unfossiliferous clays, come the Shepherd’s Gutter Beds, to be
found about half a mile lower down the King’s Gairn Brook; and below
them, again, separated by forty or fifty feet of unfossiliferous clays,
and situated somewhat more than a mile lower down the same stream, rise
the Brook Beds. Still farther down, too, from some shells very lately
discovered at Cadenham, it is supposed that the _Cerithium_ Bed of
Stubbington and Bracklesham Bay will be found, but this is not yet
ascertained.

The Hunting Bridge Beds I have never examined, but subjoin their
measurements, as also their most typical shells,[275] and must here
content myself to give a general description of the Shepherd’s Gutter
and Brook Beds. The former, the equivalent to the _Nummulina_ Bed at
Stubbington, Bracklesham, and White-Cliff Bay, is so called from a small
stream at the foot of Bramble Hill Wood, about a mile due north of the
King’s Gairn Brook. The measurements are as follows:—(1) Gravel from one
to five feet; (2) light-coloured clay, with a few fossils sparingly
distributed, five to six feet; (3) _Turritella carinifera_ bed, one foot
and a half; (4) fossil bed, characterized by _Conus deperditus_, and the
abundance of _Pecten corneus_ within a few inches of the bottom, one
foot and a half.

    [Illustration: Shells from the Shepherd’s Gutter Beds.]

It is worth noticing that these, like all the Bracklesham beds, roll. In
a pit which Mr. Keeping and myself dug we found there had been a regular
displacement of the gravel, and that the beds rose at an angle of thirty
degrees, whilst the fossil bed was three feet lower on one side than the
other of the pit. In another, after cutting through a foot of gravel, in
which we found the _os inominatum_, of probably _Bos longifrons_,[276]
and a bed of sandy clay about two feet in thickness, we came upon a
deposit of gravel about four inches thick, lying in the depressions of
the stiff brown clay which succeeded, and in which still remained roots
and vegetable matter. Thus we can plainly see that, after the clay had
been deposited, vegetable, and perhaps animal, life flourished. Then
came the gravel, carrying all before it, and in its turn, too, was
nearly swept away, and only left here and there in a few scattered
patches.

Perhaps, nothing is so startling as this insecurity of life. As was the
Past so will be the Future, guided, though, always by that Law, which at
every step still rises, moving in no circle, but out of ruin bringing
order, and from Death, Life.

The Brook Beds I can best describe for the general reader by an account
of a pit which Mr. Keeping and myself made. It was sunk about 20 feet
from the King’s Gairn Brook, and measured about 6 yards long by 4 broad.
We first cut through a loamy sand, measuring 3 feet, and then came upon
19 inches of gravel, where at the base stretched the half fossilized
trunk of an oak, and a thick drift of leaves mixed with black peaty
matter, the remains of some primæval forest. Three feet of
light-coloured clay, unfossiliferous, succeeded; and then came the
_Corbula_ Bed, with its myriads of _Corbula pisum_, massed together,
nearly all pierced by their enemies, the _Murices_. Stiff light-coloured
clay, measuring 18 inches, followed, revealing some of the shells, which
were to be found so plentiful in the next stratum. Here, at the
_Pleurotoma attenuata_ Bed, our harvest commenced, and since Mr. Keeping
has worked these beds, no spot has ever yielded such rich results. Every
stroke of the pick showed the pearl and opal-shaded colours of the
nautilus, and the rich chestnut glaze of the _Pecten corneus_, whilst at
the bottom lay the great thick-shelled _Carditæ planicostæ_. Inside one
of these were enclosed two most lovely specimens of _Calyptræa
trochiformis_. Mr. Keeping here, too, found a young specimen of _Natica
cepacea_ (?), and I had the good fortune to turn up the largest
_Pleurotoma attenuata_ ever yet discovered, measuring 4½ inches in
length, and 3¼ inches in circumference round the thickest whorl.

We were now down no less than 8 feet. And at this stage the water from
the brook, which had been threatening, began to burst in upon us from
the north side. We, however, with intervals of bailing, still pushed on
till we reached the next bed of pale clay, measuring from 7 to 8 inches,
containing _Cassidariæ_ highly pyritised, and sharks’ teeth, amongst
which Mr. Keeping discovered an enormous spine, measuring at least 10
inches in length, but we were unable to take it out perfect. The water
had all this time been gaining upon us, in spite of our continuous
efforts to bail it with buckets. We, however, succeeded in making the
_Voluta horrida_ bed, which seemed, at this spot, literally teeming with
shells. Each spitful, too, showed specimens of fruit, earbones,
fish-palates, drift-wood, and those nodular concretions which had
gathered round some berry or coral.[277]

At this point, the water, which was now pouring through the side in a
complete stream, and a rumbling noise, showed danger was imminent.
Hastily picking up our tools and fossils we retreated. In a moment a
mass of clay began to move, and two or three tons, completely burying
our bed, fell where we had stood. Founder after founder kept succeeding,
driving the water up to higher levels. We procured assistance, but
precious time was lost. Night began to fall, and we were obliged to
leave unworked one of the richest spots which, in these beds, may,
perhaps, ever be met.

As it was, we found no less than sixty-one species, including in all 230
good cabinet specimens, which, considering the small size of the pit,
and our limited time, and the great disadvantages under which we worked,
well showed the richness of these beds.

Merely, however, collecting fossils for collecting’s sake is useless.
The aim of geology is to enable us to understand how this world was
made—how form followed form, how type after type took life and then
passed away, and the higher organization ever succeeded the lower. The
Middle-Eocene ought to be to us particularly interesting, separating us,
on the one hand, from those monsters which had filled the previous Age,
and, on the other, presenting the first appearances of those higher
mammals which should serve the future wants of man. The pterodactyle no
longer darkened the air. The iguanodon now slept in its grave of chalk.
A new earth, covered with new types and new forms, had appeared. It is a
strange sight which the Hordle Cliffs unveil. Here, beneath a sun
fiercer than in our tropics, the crocodile basked in its reed beds. Here
the alligator crimsoned the stream, as he struck his jaws into his
victim; whilst the slow tryonyx paddled through the waves, and laid its
eggs on the sand, where its plates are now bedded.

The very rushes, which grew on the river banks, lie caked together, with
the teeth of the rats which harboured in them. The pine-cones still,
too, lie there, their surfaces scarcely more abraded than when they
dropped from the tree into the tepid waters. Along the muddy river shore
browsed the paloplothere, whilst his mate crashed through the jungle of
club-mosses. Groves of palms stood inland, or fringed the banks,
swarming with land-snakes. Birds waded in the shallows. But no human
voice sounded: nothing was to be heard but the screaming of the
river-fowl, and the deep bellow of the tapir-shaped palæothere, and the
wolf-like bark of the hyænodon.

This description is no mere fancy, but taken from the remains actually
discovered in the Hordle Cliffs. I have had no need to borrow from the
fossils of the Headon and Binstead Beds, or the caves of Montmartre. On
these cliffs, too, is scored the history of the past. Here lie the
little _Nuculæ_, still crimson and pink as when they first settled down
through the water into their bed of sand; and teeth of dichodons still
bright with enamel. The struggle of life raged as fiercely then as now.
And the pierced skull of the palæothere still tells where it received
its death-wound from its foe the crocodile.

But other things do they reveal. They plainly show, as was, I believe,
first suggested by Mr. Searles Wood, that in the Middle-Eocene period
Europe and America were connected. The pachyderms of Hordle are allied
to the tapirs of the New World. The same alligators still swim in the
warm rivers of Florida: and the same type of sauroid fish, whose scales
spangle the Freshwater Beds, is now only found in the West.

    [Illustration: Shells from the Brook Beds.]




                              CHAPTER XXI.
              THE BOTANY.—THE FLOWERING PLANTS AND FERNS.


    [Illustration: Barrow’s Moor Wood.]

Closely connected with the geology of the Forest are its flowers. And
though mere geology could not tell us the whole Flora of a district, yet
we might always be able, by its help and that of the latitude, to give
the typical plants. Close to the chalk, the Forest possesses none of the
chalk flowers. No bee-orchis or its congeners, although so common on all
the neighbouring Wiltshire downs, bloom. No travellers’-joy trails
amongst its thickets, although every hedge in Dorsetshire, just across
the Avon, is clothed in the autumn with its white fleece of seeds. No
yellow bird’s-nest (_Monotropa Hypopitys_) shades itself under its
beeches, though growing only a few miles distant on the chalk.

Still, here there are some contradictions. The chalk-loving yew appears
to be indigenous. Several plants which we might reasonably expect, as
herb-Paris, the bird-nest orchis (_Neottia Nidus-avis_), and the common
mezereon (_Daphne Mezereum_), are wanting.

Owing to the want of stiff clay, no hornbeams grow in its woods, except,
perhaps, a few in one or two cold “bottoms.” No Solomon’s seal or lilies
of the valley whiten its dells. No meadow-geranium waves its blue
flowers on the banks of the Avon.[278]

On the other hand, the plants too truly tell the character of the soil.
In the spring the little tormentil shows its bright blossoms, and the
petty-whin grows side by side with the furze, and the sweet mock-myrtle
throws its shadow over the streams. In the summer and autumn the blue
sheep’s-bit scabious and the golden-rod bloom, with the three heathers.
In the bogs the round-leaved sundew is pearled with wet, and not far
from it the cotton-grass waves its white down, and the asphodel rears
its golden spike.

These are the commonest flowers of the Forest, and grow everywhere over
its moors. In its dykes and marshes, the common frog-bit and the
marsh-pimpernel spring up in every direction. The buckbean, too,
brightens every pool on the south side, and is so common near the Avon
that many of the fields are called “the buckbean mead,” whilst in the
northern parts it is known as “the fringed water-lily.”

Very rich is the Forest in all these bog-plants. In Hinchelsea and
Wilverley Bottoms grow the water-pimpernel (_Samolus Valerandi_), the
lesser bladder-wort, and the bur-reed (_Sparganium natans_) floating on
the water. Here, too, perhaps, the easternmost station known for it,
blossoms the butterwort (_Pinguicula Lusitanica_), with its pale
delicate flowers. In the autumn, also, the open turf grounds round
Wootton are blue with the Calathian violet (_Gentiana Pneumonanthe_);
whilst its little bright congener (_Cicendia filiformis_) blossoms in
all the damp places.

Owing, also, to the presence of iron, the Forest possesses no less than
seventeen or eighteen carices. The little thyme-leaved flax, too
(_Radiola millegrana_), grows in all the moist, sandy dells.

From this general view it will be seen that the true Forest plants are
not so much “sylvestral” as “ericetal,” and “paludal,” and “uliginal.”
Besides these groups, however, the Flora of the district further divides
itself into the “littoral plants” along the sea-shores and estuaries,
and the “pascual” flowers of the valley of the Avon. In the former
division, owing to the want of rocks, no _Statice spathulata_ grows on
its sea-board. No true samphire (_Crithmum maritimum_) blossoms. The
beautiful maiden’s-hair fern, once so plentiful on the neighbouring
coast of the Isle of Wight, is also from the same cause wanting.

Still, great beauty blooms on the Forest streams and shores. In the
latter part of the summer, the mudbanks of the Beaulieu river are
perfectly purple with the sea-aster, whilst the sea-lavender waves its
bright blue crest among the reed-beds washed over by every tide.

The valley of the Avon is characterized, as may be expected, by the
commoner species, which are to be found in such situations. Here, and in
the adjoining cultivated parts, which once were more or less a part of
the Forest, we find the soap-wort (_Saponaria officinalis_) and the
thorn-apple (_Datura Stramonium_), and those colonists which always
harbour close to the dwellings of man. Other considerations remain. The
situation and climate of the New Forest, of course, have a great effect
on its plants.[279] The two myrtles and the sweet-bay grow under the
cliffs of Eagleshurst, close to the Solent, unhurt by the hardest
frosts. The grapes ripen on the cottage-walls of Beaulieu nearly as
early as in Devonshire. I have seen the coltsfoot in full blossom, near
Hythe, on the 27th of February; and the blackthorn flowers at Wootton on
the 3rd of April.

The area of the New Forest comes under Watson’s Subprovince of the
Mid-Channel, on the Southern belt of his Inferagrarian zone. Its
position lies exactly half-way between his Germanic and Atlantic types.
The former shows itself by _Dianthus Armeria_, and _Pulicaria vulgaris_,
growing near Marchwood and Bisterne. The latter by such examples as
_Cotyledon_ _umbilicus_, _Pinguicula Lusitanica_, _Briza minor_, and
_Agrostis setacea_. The “British” and “English” types are, of course,
plentifully represented.[280]

Looking, too, at the trees and shrubs which are indigenous, we shall
find them also eminently characteristic. In spite of what Cæsar says,
the beech is certainly a native, pushing out in places even the oak. The
holly, too, grows everywhere in massy clumps. In the spring, the wild
crab (_Pyrus Malus_) crimsons the thickets of Brockenhurst, in the
autumn the maple. The butcher’s broom stands at the foot of each beech,
and the ivy twines its great coil round each oak, and the mistletoe
finds its home on the white poplar.

After all, the trees, and not the flowers, give its character to the New
Forest. In the spring, all its woods are dappled with lights and shades,
with the amber of the oak and the delicate soft-gleaming green of the
birch and beech. In the autumn, the spindle-tree (_Euonymus Europæus_)
in the Wootton copses is hung with its rosy gems; and the trenches of
Castle Malwood are strewed with the silver leaves of the white-beam.

To return, however, to the plants, let us notice how some particular
families seem especially to like the light gravelly soil of the Forest
district. Take, for instance, the St. John’s-worts, of which we have no
less than six, if not more varieties. The common perforated (_Hypericum
perforatum_) shines on every dry heath, and the square-stalked
(_quadrangulum_) in all the damp boggy places. The tutsan (_Androsæmum_)
is so common round Wootton that it is known to all the children as
“touchen leaves,” evidently only a corruption of its name; and its
berries are believed throughout the Forest to be stained with the blood
of the Danes. The rarer large-flowered (_calycinum_) grows, though not,
I am afraid, truly wild, in some of the thickets round Sway. In all the
ponds, the marsh (_elodes_) springs up, whilst the creeping
(_humifusum_) trails its blossoms over the turf of the Forest lanes, and
the small (_pulchrum_) shows its orange-tipped flowers amongst the
brambles and bushes.

Take, again, the large family of the ferns, of which seventeen species
are distributed throughout the Forest. First and foremost, of course,
stands the royal fern (_Osmunda regalis_), which may be found from the
sea-board to Fordingbridge, rearing its stem in some places six feet
high, and covering in patches on the southern border, as at Beckley,
nearly a quarter of an acre. It grows in Chewton Glen, in all the lanes
in the neighbourhood, on Ashley Common, close to the Osmanby Ford River,
and rears its golden-brown pannicles in the boggy thickets near Rufus’s
Stone. But before it, in beauty, stands the lady-fern, with its delicate
fronds and its tender green, growing in the open spaces of the beech
woods, as at Stonehard and Puckpits, and bending over the Forest streams
in large leafy clumps. Then, too, in all the large woods grows the
sweet-scented mountain fern (_Lastrea Oreopteris_); and on every bank
the hart’s-tongue spreads its broad ribbon-like leaves, and the fertile
fronds of the hard-fern spring up feathery and light, whilst from the
old oaks the common polypody droops with its dark green tresses. The
common maiden-hair (_Asplenium Trichomanes_), too, hangs on the walls
and Forest banks; and on Alice Lisle’s tomb, at Ellingham, the
rue-leaved spleenwort is green throughout the whole year. On Breamore
churchyard wall and Ringwood bridges grows the common scale-fern, whilst
in the meadows of the Avon springs the adder’s-tongue’s green spear.

Nor must we forget the brake, common though it be, for this it is which
gives the Forest so much of its character, clothing it with green in the
spring; and when the heather is withered, and the furze, too, decayed,
making every holt and hollow golden.[281]

And now for some other plants, without reference to their species, but
simply to their beauty. On Ashley Common and the neighbouring
grass-fields grows the moth-mullein (_Verbascum Blattaria_), dropping
its yellow flowers, as they one by one expand. In the neighbouring
pools, as far as Wootton, the blossoms of the great spearwort
(_Ranunculus Lingua_) gleam among the reeds. There, also, the
narrow-leaved lungwort (_Pulmonaria angustifolia_), with its leaves both
plain and spotted, opens its blue and crimson flowers so bright, that
they are known to all the children as the “snake flower,” and gathered
by handfuls mixed with the spotted orchis. And the ladies’ tresses, too
(_Spiranthes autumnalis_), shows its delicate brown braid on every dry
field on the southern border.

Besides these, the feathered pink (_Dianthus plumarius_) blooms on the
cloister-walls at Beaulieu; and the Deptford pink (_Dianthus Armeria_)
in the valley of the Avon at Hucklebrook, near Ibbesley. The
bastard-balm (_Melittis Melissophyllum_) flaunts its white and purple
blossoms over the banks of Wootton plantation, whilst at Oakley and
Knyghtwood the red gladiolus crimsons the green beds of fern.

Briefly, let me say that, as is the Forest soil, so are its plants.
Nature ever makes some compensations. The barrenest places she ever
clothes with beauty. If corn will not grow, she will give man something
better. In the great woods the columbines and tutsan shine in the spring
with their blue and yellow blossoms, and the wood-sorrel nestles its
white flowers among the mossy roots of the oaks. In the more open spaces
the foxgloves overtop the brake, and in the grassy spots the eyebright
waves its white-grey crest; and not far off are sure to gleam faint
crimson patches of the marsh-pimpernel, half hid in moss; whilst the
swamps are fringed with the coral of the sundew.

    [Illustration: The King’s Gairn Brook (Another View).]




                             CHAPTER XXII.
                            THE ORNITHOLOGY.


    [Illustration: The Heronry at Vinney Ridge.]

To describe the Fauna of the Forest is beyond the purpose of this book,
and would, beside, require a life-time to properly accomplish. I can
only here deal with the ornithology as I have with the botany. I do not
know either that the general reader will lose anything by the treatment.
A scientific knowledge is not so much needed as, first of all, a
sympathy with nature, and a love for all her forms of beauty. The great
object in life is not to know, but to feel. But, before we speak of the
birds, let us correct some errors which are so common with regard to the
animals. It is quite a mistake to talk of wild boars or wild ponies
roaming over the Forest. There is not now an animal here without an
owner. The wild boars introduced by Charles I., and others brought over
some fifty years ago, are seen only in their tame
descendants—sandy-coloured, or “badger-pied,” as they are called, which
are turned out into the Forest during the pannage months.[282]

So, too, the Forest ponies never run wild, except in the sense of being
unbroken. Lath-legged, small-bodied, and heavy-headed, but strong and
hardy, living on nothing in the winter but the furze, they are commonly
said, without the slightest ground, to be descendants of the Spanish
horses which swam ashore from the disabled ships of the Armada.

And now for the ornithology. The thick woods, the lonely moors and
holts, attract the birds of prey; the streams and marshes the waders;
whilst the estuaries of the Beaulieu, and Lymington, and Christchurch
rivers, and the Solent, afford a shelter in winter to the geese and
ducks driven from the north.

Again, too, the peculiar mildness of the climate has its effect on the
birds as well as the plants. The martin and the swallow come early in
March and stay till the end of November; that is to say, remain full
three-quarters of the year. I have heard, too, the cuckoo as early as
April 11th and as late as July the 12th. The warblers, whose arrival
depends so much on the south-east winds, may not come earlier than in
other parts of England. They certainly, however, in the southern and
more cultivated parts, where food is plentiful, stay here later than in
the Midland Counties; and I have heard the whitethroat singing, as on a
spring day, in the middle of October.

We will begin with the birds of prey. Gilpin (vol. ii. p. 294) mentions
a pair of golden eagles, which, for many years, at times frequented
King’s Wood, and a single specimen, killed near Ashley Lodge. These,
however, with the exception of one shot some twenty years ago over
Christchurch Harbour, are the last instances of a bird, which can now be
seldom seen except in the north of Scotland. Yarrell,[283] too, notices
that the sea eagle (_Aquila albicilla_) is sometimes a visitor in the
district, but though I have been down under the Hordle and Barton
Cliffs, day after day, for often six months together, I have never seen
a specimen. It, however, sometimes occurs in the winter, and is mistaken
for its rarer ally; and the Eagle Tree at the extreme west end of Vinney
Ridge commemorates where one was shot, some fifty years ago, by a
Forest-keeper. The osprey, however (_Falco haliæëtus_), still frequents
the coast in the autumn, and circles over Christchurch Harbour fishing
for his prey, where, as Yarrell mentions, he is well known as the
“grey-mullet hawk,” on account of his fondness for that fish.

The Peregrine Falcon (_Falco peregrinus_), which breeds on the high
Culver Cliffs of the Isle of Wight, and in the Lulworth Rocks, is in the
summer a regular visitor, and scours the whole country. No year goes by
without some half-dozen or more being killed.

Its congener the hobby (_Falco subbuteo_), known in the Forest as “the
van-winged hawk,” comes about the same time as the honey-buzzard,
building in the old, deserted nests of crows and magpies, and even, as
in one case, to my knowledge, in that of the honey-buzzard. The bird,
however, is becoming scarce. For several years I have known a pair or
two build in Buckhill Wood, of which a sketch is given at the end of
this chapter, but last year none came. It lays generally about the
beginning of June, though I have received its eggs as late as July 12th.
Yarrell says that their number is three or four; but, with Mr. Hoy,[284]
I have never known the bird lay more than three, and very often only
two.

The goshawk (_Falco palumbarius_) and the rough-legged buzzard (_Falco
lagopus_) are very rarely seen; but, I fear, the kite, although so
plentiful in Gilpin’s time, has nearly deserted this, like all other
districts. Once, and once only, has it been seen by Mr. Farren. The
honey-buzzard, however (_Falco apivorus_), comes regularly over from
Germany about the end of May, attracted, in some measure, perhaps, by
its favourite food, the larvæ of wasps and bees, but chiefly by the wide
range of the woods. At Mark Ash and Puckpits I have frequently, for an
hour together, watched a couple, sailing with their wings outspread,
allowing the wind, on a boisterous day, to catch them, till it almost
veered them over; just circling round the tops of the beeches, sometimes
even “tumbling,” like a pigeon, and answering each other with their
sharp, short cry, prolonged every now and then into a melancholy wail.
Its favourite breeding stations are amongst the tall beech-woods round
Lyndhurst, in Mark Ash, and Gibbs Hill, Puckpits, Coalmeer, Prior’s
Acre, and the oaks of Bentley and Sloden. The nest is always placed in
the old one of a crow, or even the common buzzard, whose young by that
time have flown, and sometimes made on the top of a squirrel’s “cage,”
the birds contenting themselves with only re-shaping it, and lining the
inside with fresh green leaves. The fact of a squirrel’s “cage” being
used will account for the nest being sometimes found so low, and on a
comparatively small tree. No rule can therefore be laid down as to its
position. I have known the bird build in very different situations. Mr.
Rake found its nest in Sloden, on the forked bough of a low oak, not
thirty feet from the ground. In 1860 a pair built, not very much higher,
in the overhanging branch of a beech in Puckpits; and, in the same year,
another pair reared their young on the top of a fir in Holmy Ridge Hill.
And in 1861 and 1862, I knew of two nests, not fifty yards apart, in
Mark Ash, each placed nearly at the top of the very tallest beeches in
the wood, at least seventy or eighty feet from the ground. As so little
appears to be known about its breeding habits, I may as well add a few
more words. It seldom arrives till the beginning of June, when the
leaves are thick on the trees, and immediately commences its nest, for
which purpose it seems only to come, as it immediately departs when the
young birds can fly. Pairs have been known, however, not to lay till the
end of July; and, I am assured by one of the Forest keepers, not
sometimes till even the beginning of August; but these are, doubtless,
cases where the birds have been robbed of their first eggs. It differs
from the common buzzard in not flying away when disturbed during
incubation, but merely skimming round the top of the tree in small
circles, uttering its short, shrill cry, sometimes both male and female
perching on the branch of a neighbouring tree, and remaining undisturbed
by shouts or cries, whilst the nest is being reached. At these times a
kind of stupidity seizes the bird. It has, to my knowledge, on several
occasions, remained in the nest till a boy has touched its feathers, and
returned as soon as he left.

As a further illustration, I may add, that in one of the nests before
mentioned, in Mark Ash (June 7th, 1862), was only one egg, which was
taken. The birds, however, did not forsake, and another, which was also
taken, was laid on the third day. Even then the birds did not desert,
but after the interval of two more days laid a third egg, about one-half
smaller than usual, and in shape somewhat resembling a peregrine’s.

On another occasion, June 11th, 1859, a pair bred in a high beech in
Coalmeer Wood, near Stoney Cross, and though fired at more than once did
not desert. The female, however, was first shot, when the cock, nothing
daunted, took his partner’s place, and sat on the eggs, and in a day or
two afterwards shared her fate. In the nest were two eggs, which, with
the exception before mentioned, I have never known exceeded. Those in my
collection vary in colouring from the light dull vermilion, which so
often characterizes the merlin’s eggs, to a deep rich morone, tinted,
especially in newly-taken specimens, with a delicate crimson bloom.[285]

A few words more. The birds are not much seen in the day, but generally
early in the morning. Whilst the hen bird sits on the eggs, the cock
perches close by in some tall thick tree. Perhaps from this very
affection for their young arises their seeming stupidity, and the ease
with which they are killed. Some years ago a keeper found a nest with
two young birds in Bentley Wood, and on purpose to secure them tied them
by their legs to a small tree, where the old birds regularly came and
fed them. But the strangest fact with regard to their breeding is that
before they finally decide upon a nest they will line several with green
leaves and small leafy twigs. Lastly, I may add that though I have
examined many nests, I have never found any traces of their being, as is
related by some writers, lined with wool. If there was any wool it was
probably placed there by the bird which had previously inhabited the
nest.

The common buzzard (_Falco buteo_) is a resident all through the year in
the Forest, and may now and then be seen towering high up in the air, so
high that you would not at first notice him, unless you heard his wild
scream. It is not, however, nearly so plentiful as formerly. He is a sad
coward, and the common crow will not only attack, but defeat him. Once
or twice I have seen their battles during the breeding season. The jays,
and magpies, too, and even the pewits, will mob him, the latter striking
at him almost like a falcon. Its favourite breeding-places are in the
Denny and Bratley Woods, Sloden, Birchen Hat, Mark Ash, and Prior’s
Acre. Several nests are yearly taken, for the bird generally breeds when
the bark-strippers are at work in April and May. A series of its eggs,
in my collection, taken in the Forest, show every variety of colouring
from nearly pure white to richly blotched specimens.

In the breeding-season the birds are excessively destructive. A boy who
climbed up to a nest in the spring of 1860 told me that he found no less
than two young rabbits, a grey hen, and two thrushes as provision for
two nestlings. However, there is always some compensation, for in one
which I examined were the skeletons of two snakes and a rat picked to
the bone.

    [Illustration: Common Buzzard’s Nest.]

    [Illustration: Honey-Buzzard’s Nest.]

The accompanying vignette will, I trust, although the nests are so
exactly alike, be of some interest. Whilst the artist was sketching the
honey-buzzard’s nest, the old bird, the first which I had noticed in
1862, made its appearance and circled round the tree, uttering its
peculiar short shrill squeak. This nest, which had been repaired in the
previous year, the dead beech-leaves still hanging on to the twigs, was
between forty and fifty feet from the ground; whilst that of the common
buzzard, who, whilst sitting, had, a month before, been killed, was
upwards of seventy feet, and placed on the very topmost boughs of a
beech, on which tree was also the other.

But more important than even the nesting of the honey-buzzard is that of
the merlin (_Falco æsalon_), which fact has never yet been, so far as I
know, noticed as occurring in the New Forest. In the winter this little
hawk is sometimes seen hunting, as it does in Ireland, the snipe,
although but few specimens find their way to the bird-stuffer. It
lingers on, however, to the summer, but the opportunities then of
watching its habits are more rare, as the foliage of the woods is so
thick. In 1859 and 1861 Mr. Farren received two nests with three eggs,
taken in old pollard hollies growing in the open heath, which in every
way corresponded with those of the merlin, being considerably smaller
than those of kestrels. Unfortunately, however, he could not procure the
parent birds, and the fact of the merlin’s nesting remained doubtful. In
1862 he was at last successful, and on May 22nd discovered a nest,
placed in the hole of a yew, also containing, like the others, three
eggs, from which the male bird was shot. Both the bird and eggs are now
in my collection, the latter being somewhat richer and darker in colour
than those which I have received from the Orkney and Shetland islands.
The important fact, however, to be noticed is that, as Temminck remarks,
the birds in a woody country build in trees, whilst in the north of
Britain, where there is no timber, they adapt themselves to the country,
and lay on the ground.[286]

The marsh and hen-harriers, too, frequent the moors and heaths of the
Forest, especially the latter, locally known as the “blue hawks.” Some
few pairs of these breed here, and in 1859 a nest containing three young
birds was found near Picket Post by a woodman, and another in 1862, with
three eggs, on Beaulieu Heath. One of the Forest keepers described the
fern for some distance round a nest, which he discovered, as completely
trodden down by the young birds, and so littered with feathers and dirt
that, to use his words, the place had exactly the appearance of a
goose-pen. A woodman, too, who in 1860 was set to watch a pair near
Ocknell, gave me an interesting account of his seeing the old birds
breaking off the young tops of the fern to form their nest. I have never
myself been fortunate enough in the Forest to find their nest, but I
have often watched a pair on Black Knoll and Beaulieu Heath skimming
over the ground, pausing to hover just above the furze, then flying
forward for some ten or twenty yards, turning themselves suddenly
sideways; and then again, for a minute, poising, kestrel-like, beating
each bush, and every now and then going up a little higher in the air,
but quickly coming down close over the cover.

Passing from the falcons, let us look at the owls, of which the Forest
possesses four, if not more, varieties. The commonest is the tawny
(_Strix aluco_), whose hooting fills the woods all through the winter.
At Stoney Cross I have repeatedly heard, on a still November night, a
pair of them calling to one another at least two miles apart. It not
only breeds in holes of trees, but in old crows’-nests, and will often,
when its eggs are taken, lay again within a week. The barn owl, strange
to say, is not much more abundant than the long-eared (_Strix otus_),
which breeds in the old holly-bushes, generally taking some magpie’s
nest, where it lays three eggs. Rarer still is the short-eared (_Strix
brachyotus_), which visits the Forest in November, staying through the
winter, and in the day-time rising out of the dry heath and withered
fern.[287]

Leaving the owls, let us notice some of the other birds. Many a time, in
the cold days of March, have I seen the woodcocks, in the new oak
plantations of Wootton, carrying their young under their wing, clutching
them up in their large claws. Here, on the ground, they lay their eggs,
which are of the same colour as the withered oak-leaves—a dull ochre,
spotted and clouded with brown, and are thus easily overlooked. About
the same time, or even earlier—in February—the raven will build, or
rather used to, in the old woods round Burley. In 1858 the two last
nests were taken, the eggs being somewhat smaller than those which I
have received from the Orkneys. Another of its breeding stations was in
Puckpits, where, however, it has not built for the last four seasons.
Formerly the bird was common enough, as the different Ravensnest Woods
still show; and old men in the Forest have told me, in direct
opposition, however, to what Yarrell says,[288] that when, as boys,
taking its eggs, they were obliged to arm themselves with stones and
sticks to drive off the parent birds, who fiercely defended their nests
with their claws and bills. Now it is nearly extinct, though a pair may
sometimes be seen wherever there is a dead horse or cow in the district.

Then, when the summer comes, and the woods are green and dark, the
honey-buzzard skims round the tops of the trees; and the snipe, whose
young have not yet left the swamps, goes circling high up in the air,
“bleating,” as the common people here call the noise of its wings, each
time it descends in its waving, wandering flight; whilst out on the open
spaces the whinchat, known throughout the Forest, from its cry, as the
“furze hacker,” jerks itself from one furze branch to another; and
flitting along with it fly a pair of Dartford warblers.

And as, too, evening draws down, from the young green fern the
goatsucker, the “night-crow” and the “night-hawk” of the district,
springs up under your feet, and settles a few yards off, and then flies
a little way farther, hoping to lead you from its white marble-veined
eggs on the bare ground.

Such scenes can the Forest show to the ornithologist in spring and
summer, nor is it less interesting to him in the winter. Here, as he
wanders across some moor, flocks of fieldfares and missel-thrushes start
out of the hollies, and the ring-ousel skulks off from the yew. A
bittern, its neck encircled with a brown frill of feathers, is, perhaps,
wading by the stream; and hark! from out of the sky comes the clanging
of a wedge-shaped flock of grey-lag geese.

Instead of a chapter a volume might be written upon the ornithology of
the New Forest, especially about the winter visitants—the flocks of
pochards, and teal, and tufted-ducks, which darken the Avon, and the
swans and geese which whiten the Solent. I have stood for hours on the
beach at Calshot, and watched the faint cloud in the horizon gradually
change into a mass of wings beating with one stroke, or marked string
after string of wigeon come splashing down in the mid-channel. Little
flocks of ring-dotterels and dunlins flit overhead, their white breasts
flashing in the winter sun every time they wheeled round. The shag flies
heavily along, close to the water, with his long outstretched neck,
melancholy and slow, and the cry of the kittiwake sounds from the
mud-flats.

To leave, however, the winter birds, and to pass on to more general
observations, let me notice a curious fact about the tree-creeper
(_Certhia familiaris_) in the southern parts of the Forest. Here there
are large plantations of firs, and consequently but few holes in the
trees. To make up for this deficiency, I have twice found the creeper’s
nest placed inside a squirrel’s “cage,” showing the same adaptability to
circumstances which is met with in the whole animal creation. Here, too,
in these thick firs build great numbers of jays; and I have, when
climbing up to their nests, more than once seen a squirrel coming out
with an egg in its claw or mouth. I should have been inclined to have
doubted the fact had I not seen it. The sucked eggs which are so often
found must, therefore, be attributed quite as much to the squirrel as
the magpie or the jay, who have so long borne the guilt. Of course, too,
from the great extent of wood we should expect to find the woodpeckers
very plentiful. The common woodpecker, known as the “yaffingale” and
“woodnacker,” is to be seen darting down every glade. The
greater-spotted (_Picus major_) is not unfrequent, and the
lesser-spotted (_Picus minor_) in the spring comes out of the woods and
frequents the orchards of Burley and Alum Green, boring its hole in the
dead boughs.

And here let me notice the tenacity with which the greater-spotted
woodpecker, whose nesting habits are not elsewhere in England so well
observable, clings to its breeding-place; for I have known it, when its
eggs have been taken, to lay again in the same hole, the eggs being,
however, smaller. Mr. Farren tells me that he has observed the same
fact, which is curious, as its ally, the green woodpecker, is so easily
driven away, by even a common starling.

The presence of the great black woodpecker (_Picus martius_) has long
been suspected, especially since a specimen has been killed in the Isle
of Wight, and a pair have been seen near Christchurch.[289] Mr. Farren,
in 1862, was fortunate enough not only to see the bird, but to discover
its nest. On the ninth of June, whilst in Pignel Wood, near
Brockenhurst, he observed the hen bird fly out of a hole placed about
six feet high in a small oak, from which he had earlier in the season
taken a green woodpecker’s nest. Hiding himself in the bushwood, he saw,
after waiting about half an hour, the hen return, and had no doubts as
to its identity. An endeavour, however, to secure her in the hole, with
the butterfly-net which he had with him, was unsuccessful. He was afraid
to leave the eggs, as some woodmen were working close by, and so lost
any other opportunity of making the capture. The eggs, now in my
collection, were four in number, one being slightly addled, and are the
only specimens ever taken in England. They were laid on the bare rotten
wood, the bird finding the hole sufficiently large, as Mr. Farren had
widened it when taking the previous eggs. It is, however, remarkable
that such a shy bird should have built in such a scattered and thin wood
as Pignel, close to a public thoroughfare, and where the woodmen had for
some time past been constantly felling timber.

But what gives the Forest so much of its character is the number of
herons who have lately established themselves in various parts. You can
scarcely go along a stream-side without surprising some one or two,
which, as you approach, flap their large slate-coloured wings, and fly
off with a rolling, heavy motion, circling in the air as they go. Down
at Exbury, at the mouth of the Beaulieu river, they may be seen in
companies of threes and fours, wading in the shallows, probing their
long bills into the mud and sand; and then, as the tide comes up, making
off to the freshwater ponds. They are, however, I am afraid, rather
persecuted, as they never long here remain at one breeding station. They
first took up their abode in Old Burley Wood, and then removed to Wood
Fidley, and subsequently to Denney, and finally to Vinney Ridge. In
1861, fifty pairs, at least, must have built in its tall beeches. On a
fine early spring morning, a long grey line of them would perch on the
neighbouring green of Dame Slough, picking up the twigs of heather and
flying off with them to line their great platforms of nests; and then
sailing down to the Blackwater stream, in the “bottom” close by, to
fish. In the morning and evening, and, in fact, all through the day, one
incessant clamour was going on, and under the trees lay great eels,
which had fallen from their nests.

Last year the numbers were greatly decreased, the birds having been,
perhaps, driven away by the woodcutters and charcoal-burners employed to
cut down the surrounding timber. The sketch which stands at the head of
this chapter was taken in June—too late in the year to show any of the
nests, but several young birds were still hovering round who had not
even then quite quitted. A small colony has, too, established itself at
Boldrewood, where I trust it will be protected; for few birds possess so
much character, and give so much beauty to the landscape.

Before we conclude, let us glance at some other peculiarities of the
Forest district, and its effects on its birds. It is not too far
westward for the east winds to bring the hoopoe, so common in Sussex.
Throughout the summer of 1861, a pair were constantly flying about and
hopping on the “Lawn” near Wilverley Forest Lodge. The black redstart
(_Sylvia tithys_) and the fire-crest (_Regulus ignicapillus_) just skim
its borders in their westerly winter migrations. Small flocks of
dotterel make it their halting spot for a few days in spring, on their
way to their northern breeding-places. In the winter, its mildness
brings numbers of siskins, some few bramblings, and the common and even
the parrot crossbill, escaping from the frosts of the north.

Other things may be mentioned. The hawfinches do not stay all the year
round, as might be expected, or, at least, only one or two pairs, simply
because there are no hornbeams in the Forest, nor gardens to tempt them
with their fruits. The chough, too, is seldom seen, its eggs and young
being plundered in the Isle of Wight cliffs and the Lulworth rocks. It
is now extinct in Sussex, and will soon be in the New Forest. Yet these
birds were once so numerous in England, not only damaging the crops, but
unthatching the barns and houses, that a special Act of Parliament was
passed against them.[290] Twopence for a dozen heads were given. People
were, under various penalties, bound to destroy them, and parishes were
ordered to keep chough and crow nets in repair.

There is, unfortunately, no other forest in England by which we can make
comparisons with the ornithology of the New Forest. In Churchill
Babington’s excellent synopsis of the birds of Charnwood Forest, we find
only one hundred and twenty-five species, but little more than one-half
of those in the New Forest. Out of the three hundred and fifty-four
British birds the New Forest possesses seventy-two residents, whilst it
has had no less than two hundred and thirty killed or observed within
its boundaries.[291] With this we must end. I am afraid it is too late
to protest against the slaughter of our few remaining birds of prey. The
eagle and kite are, to all purpose, extinct, in England, and the
peregrine and honey-buzzard will soon share their fate. The sight of a
large bird now calls out all the raffish guns of a country-side.
Ornithologists have, however, themselves to thank. With some honourable
exceptions, I know no one so greedy as a true ornithologist. The
botanist does not uproot every new flower which he discovers, but—for he
loves them too well—carefully spares some plants to grow and increase;
whilst few ornithologists rest content till they see the specimen safe
in their cabinets. This, I suppose, must be, from the nature of the
study, the case. Still, however, the love for Nature, and the enthusiasm
which it gives, must be regarded as a far greater offset. And here let
me, for the last time, say that I feel sure that nobody knows anything
of the true charms of the country who is ignorant of natural history.
With the slightest love and knowledge of it, then every leaf is full of
meaning, every pebble a history, every torn branch, gilded with lichens,
and silvered with mosses, has its wonders to tell; and you will find
life in the dust, and beauty in the commonest weed.

    [Illustration: View in Buckhill Wood.]

                 [Illustration: MAP OF THE NEW FOREST.
                          High-resolution Map]




                              APPENDICES.


  I. Glossary of Provincialisms.
  II. List of the Flowering Plants.
  III. List of the Birds.
  IV. List of the Lepidoptera.




                              APPENDICES.




                              APPENDIX I.
    A GLOSSARY OF SOME OF THE PROVINCIALISMS USED IN THE NEW FOREST.


I could easily have expanded the following glossary to three times its
size, but my object is to give only some specimens of those words which
have not yet found their way into, or have not been fully explained in
Mr. Halliwell’s or Mr. Wright’s dictionaries of provincialisms. The
following collection is, I believe, the first ever made of the New
Forest, or even, with the exception of the scanty list in Warner,[292]
of Hampshire provincialisms, which of course to a certain extent it
represents,—more especially those of the western part of the county. A
separate work, however, would be needed to give the whole collection,
and the following examples must here suffice.

Of course I do not say that all these words are to be found only in the
New Forest. Many of them will doubtless be elsewhere discovered, though
they hitherto, as here, have escaped notice. The time, however, for
assigning the limits of our various provincialisms and provincial
dialects has not yet arrived.

The use of the personal pronoun “he,” as, throughout the West of
England, applied to things alike animate and inanimate, and the
substitution of “thee” for you, when the speaker is angry, or wishes to
be emphatic, may be here noticed. In the Forest, too, as in parts of
Berkshire, a woman when employed upon out-door work is sometimes spoken
of in the masculine gender, as the Hungarians are falsely said to have
done of their queen on a certain memorable occasion. The confusion of
cases which has been noticed by philologists is here, as in other parts
of England, rather the result of ignorance than a peculiar character of
the dialect.


Adder’s-Fern. The common polypody (_Polypodium vulgare_), so called from
its rows of bright spores. The hard-fern (_Blechnum boreale_) is known
as the “snake-fern.”

Allow, To. To think, suppose, consider. This word exactly corresponds to
the American “guess” (which, by the way, is no Americanism, but used by
Wiclif in his Bible: see Luke, ch. vii. v. 43), and is employed as often
and as indefinitely in the New Forest. If you ask a peasant how far it
is to any place, his answer nearly invariably is, “I allow it to be so
far.” “Suppose,” in Sussex, is used in much the same way.

Bell-heath. _See_ Red-heath.

Bed-furze. The dwarf furze (_Ulex nanus_), which is very common
throughout the Forest.

Black-heath. _See_ Red-heath.

Black-heart, The. The bilberry (_Vaccinium Myrtillus_), the “whimberry”
of the northern counties, which grows very plentifully throughout the
Forest. It is so called, by a singular corruption, the original word
being hartberry, the Old-English _heorot-berg_, to which the qualifying
adjective has been added, whilst the terminal substantive has been lost,
and the first totally misapprehended. To go “hearting” is a very common
phrase. (See _Proceedings of the Philological Society_, vol. iii. pp.
154, 155.)

Brize. To press. “Brize it down,” means, press it down. Is this only
another form of the old word prize, preese, to press, crowd?

Boughy. A tree, which instead of running up straight is full of boughs,
is said to be “boughy.” It is also used generally of thick woods. Akin
to it is the old word buhsomenesse, boughsomeness, written, as Mr.
Wedgwood notices (_Dictionary of English Etymology_, p. 285), buxomeness
by Chaucer.

Bower-Stone, A. A boundary-stone. Called a “mere-stone” in some of the
Midland Counties. Perhaps from the Keltic _bwr_, an inclosure,
intrenchment; just as manor is said to be from _maenawr_, a district
with a stone bound.

Bound-Oak. _See_ Oak, Mark-.

Brownies, The. The bees. _See_ chap. xvi., p. 185.

Brow. Mr. Halliwell and Mr. Wright give this as a Wiltshire word, in the
sense of brittle. In the New Forest it is applied only to short, snappy,
splintering timber of bad quality.

Buck, The. The stag-beetle, so called from its strong horn-like
_antennæ_. The children, when catching it, sing this snatch—

  “High buck,
  Low buck,
  Buck, come down.”

It is also called pinch-buck. The female is known as the doe. _See_
“Bryanston Buck,” in Mr. Barnes’s _Glossary of the Dorsetshire Dialect_,
appended to his _Poems of Rural Life_.

Bunch, A. A blow, or the effects of a blow; and then a blotch, burn,
scald, pimple, in which latter senses “bladder” is also often used. The
verb “to bunch,” to strike, is sometimes heard. _See_ Wedgwood (vol. i.
p. 269, and vol. ii. p. 263) on its allied forms. Used by Pope, _Iliad_,
bk. ii. 328.

Cammock, The. (From the Old-English _cammec_, _cammoc_, _cammuc_.) The
various species of St. John’s-wort, so plentiful in the neighbourhood of
the New Forest; then, any yellow flower, as the fleabane (_Pulica
dysenterica_) and ragwort (_Senecto Jacobæa_). In Dorsetshire, according
to Mr. Barnes, it only means the rest-harrow (_Ononis arvensis_).

Cass, A. A spar used in thatching, called in the Midland and
North-Western Counties a “buckler.” Before it is made into a cass, it is
called a “spargad.”

Cattan, A. A sort of noose or hinge, which unites the “hand-stick” to
the flail. It is made in two parts. The joint which joins the
“hand-stick” is formed of ash or elm, whilst that which fits the flail
is made of leather, as it is required to be more flexible near the part
which strikes the floor. Mr. Wright and Mr. Halliwell give as a
North-country word the verb “catton,” to beat, with which there is
evidently some connection.

Childag, A. A chilblain. Often called simply a “dag,” and “chilbladder.”

Cleet, A. More generally used in the plural, as “cleets.” Iron tips on a
shoe. Hence we have the expression, “to cleet oxen,” that is, to shoe
them when they work.

Close. Hard, sharp. “It hits close,” means it hits hard.

Cothe. (From the Old-English “coða, coðe.”) A “cothe sheep,” means a
sheep diseased in its liver. The springs in the New Forest are said “to
cothe” the sheep—that is, to disease their livers. Hence we have such
places as “Cothy Mead,” and “Cothy Copse.” Mr. Barnes (as before) gives
the form “acothed,” as used in Dorsetshire.

Crink-crank. “Crink-crank words” are long words—_verba
sesquipedalia_—not properly understood. (See _Proceedings of
Philological Society_, vol. v. pp. 143-148.)

Crow-peck, The. The Shepherd’s needle (_Scandix-pecten Veneris_); called
also “old woman’s needle.” There is a common saying in the New Forest,
that “Two crow-pecks are as good as an oat for a horse;” to which the
reply is, “That a crow-peck and a barley-corn may be.”

Crutch, A. (From the Friesic _kroek_, connected with the Old-English
_crocca_, our crock). A dish, or earthenware pipkin. We daily in the New
Forest and the neighbourhood hear of lard and butter crutches. The word
“shard,” too, by the way, is still used in the Forest for a cup, and
housewives still speak of a “shard of tea.”

Cuttran, A. A wren; more commonly called a “cutty;” which last word Mr.
Barnes gives in his _Glossary of the Dorsetshire Dialect_, p. 331, but
which is common throughout the West of England. As Mr. Barnes, p. 354,
observes, the word is nothing more than cutty wren;—the little wren.
(_See_ “Kittywitch,” _Transactions of Philological Society_, 1855, p.
33.)

Decker, or Dicker, To. One of the old forms of to deck; literally, to
cover; from the Old-English “þeccan;” in German, _decken_. It now,
however, only signifies to ornament or spangle. A lady’s fingers are
said to be deckered with rings, or the sky with stars.

Deer’s-Milk. Wood-spurge (_Euphorbia amygdaloides_). So called from the
white viscous juice which exudes from its stalks when gathered.

Dount, To. To dint, or imprint. Formed, as Mr. Wedgwood remarks, of the
kindred words, dint, dent, dunt, by an onomatopoëtic process. We find
the word in an old song still sung in the New Forest, “A Time to
remember the Poor:”—

  “Here’s the poor harmless hare from the woods that is tracked,
    And her footsteps deep dounted in snow.”

Dray, A. A prison; “the cage” of the Midland districts. Curiously enough
the old poet William Browne, as also Wither, speaks of a squirrel’s nest
as a “dray”—still used, by-the-by, in some counties—which in the New
Forest is always called a “cage.” In this last sense Mr. Lower adds it
to the glossary of Sussex provincialisms (_Sussex Archæological
Collections_, vol. xiii., p. 215). I may further note that at Christmas
in the Forest, as in other wooded parts of England, squirrel-feasts are
held. Two parties of boys and young men go into the woods armed with
 “scales” and “snogs” (see chap. xvi. p. 182), to see who will kill the
most squirrels. Sometimes as many as a hundred or more are brought home,
when they are baked in a pie. Their fur, too, is sought after for its
glossiness.

Drum, Ivy-, An. The stem of an ivy tree or bush, which grows round the
hole of another tree.

Drunch, To. To draw up, press, squeeze. We find the substantive
“drunge,” with which it is evidently connected, given in Wright as a
Wiltshire pronunciation for pressure, or crowd. Mr. Barnes also, in his
_Glossary of the Dorsetshire Dialect_, p. 235, gives the forms “dringe”
or “drunge,” to squeeze or push.

Elam, An. An handful of thatch. Common both in the New Forest and
Wiltshire. In the former three elams make a bundle, and twenty bundles
one score, and four scores a ton. In the latter the measurement is
somewhat different, five elams forming a bundle.

Fessey. (From the Old-English _fús_, ready, prompt, quick). Proud,
upstart. In the glossaries of Wright and Halliwell we find “fess” given
as the commoner form.

Fetch, To. Used with reference to churning butter. “To fetch the
butter,” means, to raise the cream into a certain consistency.

Fire-bladder. A pimple, or eruption on the face. _See_ “bunch.”

Flisky. Small, minute. Used especially of misty rain.

Flitch, or quite as often Fritch. (From the Old-English _flit_, or
_geflit_). Not only as explained in the glossary of Wiltshire,
impertinent, busy, but, by some _boustrophêdon_ process, good-humoured.
“You are very flitch to-day,” that is, good-natured.

Fluders. Worms, which on certain land get into the livers of sheep, when
the animal is said to be “cothed.” Called also “flukes,” and
“flounders.” _See_ the word “cothe.”

Gait, A. A crotchet, or, as the vulgar expression is, a maggot. Used
always in a deprecatory sense. When a person has done anything foolish
he says, “this is a gait I have got.” Doubtless, identical with “get” in
Wedgwood, vol. ii. p. 144.

Gettet. Sprung, or slightly cracked. Used throughout the West of
England.

Giggle, To. To stand awry or crooked. Said especially of small things,
which do not stand upright.

Glutch, To. (From the French en-gloutir). Not simply, to swallow or
gulp, as explained in the glossaries, but more especially to stifle a
sob.

Gold-heath, The. The bog-moss, (_Sphagnum squarrosum_), which is used in
the New Forest to make fine brooms.

Gold-withey, The. The bog-myrtle, or English mock-myrtle (_Myrica
Gale_), mentioned in Mr. Kingsley’s New Forest ballad,—

  “They wrestled up, they wrestled down,
    They wrestled still and sore;
  Beneath their feet, the myrtle sweet,
    Was stamped in mud and gore.”

It grows in all the wet places in the Forest, and is excessively sweet,
the fruit being furnished with resinous glands. It is said to be
extensively used in drugging the beer in the district.

Graff, or grampher. _See_ Wosset.

Gross. Often used in a good sense for luxuriant, and applied to the
young green crops, just as “proud,” and “rank,” or rather “ronk,” as it
is pronounced, are in the Midland Counties.

Gunney. To look “gunney” means, to look archly or cunning. There is also
the verb “to gunney.” “He gunneyed at me,” signifies, he looked straight
at me. From the French _guigner_.

Hacker, furze-, The. The whinchat, so called from its note, which it
utters on the sprays of the furze.

Hame. There is a curious phrase, “all to hame,” signifying, broken to
pieces, used both here and in Wiltshire. Thus the glass, when broken, is
said to be “all to hame,” that is, “all to bits.” The metaphor has been
taken from “spindly” wheat on bad ground running to halm, from the
Old-English _healm_, now the West-Saxon peasant’s “hame.” “All to,” I
may add, is used adverbially in its old sense of entirely, quite, as we
find it in Judges ix. 53.

Harl, The. The hock of a sheep.

Harvest-Lice. The seeds of the common agrimony (_Agrimonia eupatoria_)
and “heriff” (_Galium Aparine_). _See_ Clivers, chap. xv. p. 166.

Hell. A dark place in the woods. _See_ chap. x. p. 110.

Herder. A sieve. _See_ chap. xvi. p. 185, foot-note.

Hill-trot, The. The wild carrot (_Daucus Carota_), used also in
Wiltshire. Most probably a corruption of eltrot, eldrot, oldroot, and so
from the Old-English. These last forms are given in Mr. Barnes’
_Glossary of the Dorset dialect_, p. 336.

Hoar-withey. The whitebeam (_Sorbus Aria_), which, with its white
leaves, is very conspicuous in the Forest. We find the word used in the
perambulation of the Forest in the twenty-second year of Charles I.,—“by
the road called Holloway, and from thence to Hore-withey, in the place
whereof (decayed) a post standed in the ground.” It is exactly the same
as the “har wiðig” of the Old-English. It is called also, but more
rarely, the “white rice.” _See_ chap. xvi. p. 183.

Hoo, To. To simmer, boil; evidently formed, like so many other words, by
an onomatopoëtic process (_See_ chap. xvi. p. 186). There is also the
phrase, “the kettle is on the hoo,” that is, to use a vulgarism, on the
simmer, or boil.

Hoop, To go a. To go where you like. “He is going a hoop,” means, he is
going to the bad.

Hum-water. A cordial which is made from the common horse-mint (_Mentha
aquatica_). Does “hum” here mean strong, as it is used in some counties
with reference to beer? _See_ chap. xv. p. 166.

Joseph’s Walking-stick. The Joseph’s-ladder of the Midland Counties,
common in all the cottage gardens round the Forest. It is curious to
notice, amongst our peasantry, the religious element in the names of
both the wild and cultivated flowers derived from Catholic times. Thus
we have ladies’ cushions, and ladies’ tresses, and St. Peter’s-wort, and
St. John’s-wort, besides the more common plants, such as marygolds and
ladysmocks, which every one can remember.

Kittering. Weak. The more North-country word “tuly” is also heard in the
same sense.

Lance, To. To jump, leap, or bound. Used especially of the Forest deer,
which in dry weather are said “to lance” over the turf.

Lark’s Lees, or Lease, A. A piece of poor land fit only for larks, or,
as the peasantry of the Midland Counties would say, only “fit to bear
peewits.” Mr. Halliwell gives the form “lark leers,” as a Somersetshire
phrase; but the above expression may be daily heard in the New Forest.

Louster. Noise, disturbance. “What a louster you are making,” signifies,
what a confusion you are causing.

Lug-stick. _See_ Rug-stick.

Mallace, The. The common mallow (_Malvus sylvestris_). Formed like
bullace, and other similar words.

Margon. Corn chamomile (_Anthemis arvensis_). Called “mathan,”
throughout the Anglian districts.

Mark-oak, _See_ Oak.

Mokin, or more generally in the plural, Mokins. Coarse gaiters for
defending the legs from the furze. _See_ chap. xv. p. 162.

Muddle, To. To fondle, caress, to rear by the hand. Hence we obtain the
expression “a mud lamb,” that is, a lamb whose mother is dead, which has
been brought up by hand, equivalent to the “tiddlin lamb” of the
Wiltshire shepherds. _See_ Wosset.

Oak, Mark-, A. The same as a “bound-oak,” or boundary oak or ash, as the
case may be, so called from the ancient cross, or mark, cut on the rind.
As Kemble notices (_The Saxons in England_, vol. i., appendix A. p.
480), we find in Cod. Dipl. No. 393, “on ðán merkeden ók,” to the marked
oak, showing how old is the name. I have never met in the New Forest
with an instance of a “crouch oak” (from _crois_), such as occurs at
Addlestone in Surrey, and which is said to have been the “bound-oak” of
Windsor Forest (_See_ _The Saxons in England_, as before, vol. i. chap.
ii. p. 53, foot-note). The “bound-oak,” marked in the Ordnance Map near
Dibden, has fallen, but we find the name preserved in the fine old wood
of Mark Ash, near Lyndhurst. In the perambulation of the Forest in the
29th year of Edward I. we read of the Merkingstak of Scanperisgh. The
various eagle-oaks in the Forest are comparatively modern, and must not
be confounded with the eagle-oak mentioned by Kemble (as above, vol. i.
p. 480).

Omary Cheese. An inferior sort of cheese, made of skim-milk, called in
most parts of England “skim Dick.” _See_, further on, the word Rammel,
and also Vinney, chap. xvi. p. 190.

Once. Sometime. “I will pay you once this week,” does not mean in
contradistinction to twice, but I will pay you sometime during the week.

Overrunner, An. A shrew mouse, which is supposed to portend ill-luck if
it runs over a person’s foot. In Dorsetshire it is called a “shrocop,”
where the same superstition is believed. _See_ Barnes’ _Glossary of the
Dorset Dialect_, p. 382.

Panshard, or Ponshard, A. Rage, anger. “You have no need to get in a
panshard,” is a most common saying. _See_ “peel,” further on.

Patchy. Testy. Said of people who proverbially “blow hot and cold.”

Peel, A. A disturbance, noise. “To be in a peel,” means, to be in a
passion. Used in much the same sense as the word “pelt,” which is
rightly explained in the glossaries as anger, noise, rage, though it is,
perhaps, more spoken of animals than “peel.” “What a pelt the dog is
making,” that is, barking, would be said rather than “peel.”

Picked. Sharp, pointed. “A picked piece,” means a field with one or more
sharp angular corners.

Pity. Love. “Pity is akin to love,” says Shakspeare, but in the West of
England it is often the same.

Plash, A. A mill-head. Winkton is locally called Winkton Plash, this
exactly corresponding to the Weringetone of _Domesday_, with its two
mills “_ad aulam_.”

Puck, To. To put up sheaves, especially of barley and oats, which are
called “pucks.” Used throughout the West of England in contradistinction
to “hiling,” applied only to wheat, which is placed in “hiles.” In
Dorsetshire, however, this last operation is called “stitching.” _See_
the word “stitch” in Mr. Barnes’ _Glossary of the Dorsetshire Dialect_,
p. 391.

Quar, A. The udder of a cow or sheep, when hard after calving or
lambing. Beer also is said to be “quarred,” when it drinks hard or
rough.

Quat-vessel, The. The meadow-thistle (_Carduus pratensis_), which is
common in the New Forest.

Rammel Cheese. The best sort of cheese, made of cream and new milk, in
contradistinction to Omary, or Arnary, cheese, and Hasskin cheese.

Rammucky. Dissolute, wanton. “A rammucky man,” means a depraved
character.

Ramward, or rather, ramhard. To the right. A corruption of framward, or
fromward. So “toard,” or “toward,” means to the left, that is, towards
you. Both words are used throughout the West of England, and are good
examples of what Professor Müller would call “phonetic decay.” With them
may be compared the sailor’s terms “starboard” and “larboard,” on which
_see_ Wedgwood, _Dict. of English Etymology_, vol. ii., p. 310. _See_,
too, Miss Gurney on the word “woash,” which in the Eastern Counties is
equivalent to “ramward.” _Glossary of Norfolk Words_. _Transactions of
the Philological Society_, 1855, p. 38.

Rantipole, The. The wild carrot (_Daucus carota_), so called from its
bunch of leaves. Used also in Wiltshire. _See_ Hill-trot.

Red Heath. The three heaths which grow in the New Forest—_Erica
tetralix_, _Erica cinerea_, and _Calluna vulgaris_,—are respectively
known as the bell, black, and red heaths.

Reiaves. The boards or rails put round waggons, so as to enable them to
take a greater load. Used throughout the West of England. _See_ Mr.
Barnes’ Glossary under the word Riaves, p. 375.

Rick-rack. This is only used of the weather, as “rick-rack weather,”
that is, stormy, boisterous weather, and far stronger in meaning than
the more common phrase, “cazalty weather.” It is evidently from the
Old-English _réc_, vapoury, cloudy weather, and well serves to explain
the meaning of Shakspeare’s “rack,” a cloud, in the well-known passage
in the _Tempest_ (Act iv. sc. 1), which has given rise to so much
controversy. Miss Gurney (_Transactions of the Philological Society_,
1855, p. 35), notices that “rack” is used in Norfolk for mist driven by
the wind.

Ronge, To. To kick, or play, said of horses.

Rubble, To. To remove the gravel, which is deposited throughout the
Forest in a thick layer over the beds of clay or marl. The gravel itself
is called “the rubblin.”

Rue. A row, or hedgerow. _See_ chap. v. p. 56. In the Forest some of the
embankments, near which perhaps the Kelts and West-Saxons lived, are
called Rew- and Row-ditch. I have, too, heard of attics being called
“lanes,” possibly having reference to the “ruelle” by which the space
between the curtains was formerly called.

Rug-stick, also called a Lug-stick. A bar in the chimney, on which “the
cotterel,” or “iron scale,” or “crane,” as it is also called, to which
the kettle or pot is fastened, hangs. We find the word still used in
America as the “ridge-pole” of the house, which helps us at once to the
derivation.

Scale, or squoyle. _See_ chap. xvi. p. 182.

Scull, A.(From the Old-English _scylan_, and so, literally, a division).
A drove, or herd, or pack of low people, always used in an opprobrious
sense. It is properly applied to fish, especially the grey mullet which
visits the coast in the autumn, and so metaphorically to beggars who go
in companies. Milton uses the word

      “——sculls that oft
  Bank the mid sea.”
                                              _Paradise Lost_, Book vii.

Shakspeare, too, speaks of “scaled sculls” (_Troilus and Cressida_, Act
v. sc. 5). The expression “school of whales,” which we so often find in
Arctic and whaling voyages is nothing but this word slightly altered.
According to Miss Gurney’s Glossary of Norfolk words (_Transactions of
the Philological Society_, 1855), the word “school” is applied to
herrings on the south-eastern coast. Juliana Berners, in the _Boke of
St. Albans_, curiously enough says that we should speak of “a sculke of
foxes, and a sculle of frerys.”—Quoted in Müller’s _Science of
Language_, p. 61.

Setty. Eggs are said to be “setty” when they are sat upon.

Shammock, To. To slouch. “A shammocking man” means an idle,
good-for-nothing person. Applied also to animals. “A shammocking dog,”
means almost a thievish, stealing dog, thus showing how the word is akin
to shamble, scamble, which last verb also signifies to obtain any thing
by false means.

Shear, after-, The. The second crop of grass. Called in the Midland
Counties “the eddish,” and also the “latter-math,” or “after-math.”

Sheets’-axe, A. An oak apple. _See_ chap. xvi. p. 183.

Shelf, A. A bank of sand or pebbles, or shallow in a river, or even the
ford itself. Milton uses the word in _Comus_:—

  “On the tawny sands and shelves.”

Hence we got the adjective “shelvy,” also in common use, and employed by
Falstaffe—“The shore was shelvy and shallow” (_The Merry Wives of
Windsor_, Act iii., sc. 5). It is this latter word, which Mr. Halliwell
and Mr. Wright must mean instead of “shelly,” and which they define as
“an ait in a river.” The word is probably from the same Scandinavian
root as shoal.

Shim. Lean. “He’s a shim fellow,” that is, thin. It is used, I see from
Mr. Cooper’s glossary, for a shadow, in the western division of Sussex;
and I think I have somewhere met with it in the sense of a ghost.

Shoak, Shock, Shuck, Off, To. To break off short. Thus gravel is said to
shock off at any particular stratum, or “list,” or “scale,” as it would
be called. _See_ the following word.

Shock, A. Not applied merely to corn, but to anything else. “A shock of
sand” means a line or band of sand, called also a “list,” or “lissen,”
or “bond,” or “scale,” and sometimes “drive:” which last, however, has a
more particular reference to the direction of the stratum.

Size. Thickness, consistency. “The size of the gruel” means its
consistency.

Skimmer-Cake, A. A small pudding made up from the remnants of another,
and cooked upon a “skimmer,” the dish with which the milk is skimmed.
Nearly equivalent to the “girdle-cake,” north of England.

Skrow. Shattered or battered.

Slab, A. A thick slice, lump, used like squab, which see. Thus we hear
of “a slab of bacon,” meaning a large piece. Opposed to “snoule,” which
signifies a small bit.—“I have just had a snoule,” means I have only had
a morsel.

Slink, A. “A slink of a thing,” in which phrase the word is only found,
is alike applied to objects animate or inanimate, and means either a
poor, weak, starved creature, or anything which is small and not of good
quality.

Slut, A. A noise, sound. “A slut of thunder,” means a clap or peal of
thunder. It is in this sense that the word is most generally used.

Snake-Fern. The hard-fern (_Blechnum boreale_). _See_ “Adder’s-Fern.”

Sniggle, To. To snarl. _See_ chap. xvi., p. 186. Sniggle, A. An eel
peculiar to the Avon. _See_ chap. xii., pp. 125, 126.

Spell, A. A fit, or start. Pain is said to come and go by “spells,” that
is, by shocks at recurring intervals.

Spene, A. In its first sense, like the Old-English _spana_, an udder of
a cow. In its second, the rail of a gate or stile.

Spine-Oak. The heart of oak. This phrase points to the true derivation
of “heart of oak.” The common theory Mr. Wedgwood has rightly classed
under the head of “_False Etymologies_.” _See_ _Transactions of the
Philological Society_, 1855. No. 6, pp. 62, 63.

Spire-Bed, A. A place where the “spires,” that is, the reed-canary grass
(_Phalaris arundinacea_), grow; exactly equivalent to the Old-English
_hreod-bedd_. On the outskirts of the New Forest at Redbridge, formerly
Redford—Hreodford, literally, the ford of reeds—the Test is to this day
full of the same “spires,” from which our forefathers gave the place its
name. The river Caundle, in Dorsetshire, still, too, full of spire-beds,
tells of a similar derivation, not from the Teutonic, but the Keltic.
The phrase “spire-bed,” or “spear-bed field,” is very common, meaning a
particular field, near where the “spires” grow, which are used by
plasterers and thatchers in their work.

Spith. (Another form of pith, from the Old-English “piða”). Strength,
force.

Sprack. Not only quick, lively, brisk, active, as given in the
glossaries, but neat, tidy. Used also in this last sense in Wiltshire.

Spratter. The common guillemot (_Uria troile_). In Norfolk (_see_
_Transactions of the Philological Society_, 1855, p. 37) we have
“sprat-mowe,” for a herring-gull; and in Kent, “sprat-loon,” for one of
the grebes.

Squab, A. Anything large. Thus “a squab of a piece,” is constantly used
in this sense. In a different meaning it is confounded with squat. So a
thick-set, heavy person is called a “squab.”

Squoyles. Glances. _See_ chap. xvi., p. 182.

Stabble. Marks, footprints, always used in the plural. This is another
of those onomatopoëtic words which Mr. Wedgwood might add to the forms
step, stamp, stipple, all derived by a similar process. (_See_ the
Introduction to his _Dictionary of Etymology_, p. x.) In an old rhyme,
common in the New Forest, upon a hailstorm, we find the word:—

  “Go round the ricks,
  And round the ricks,
  And make as many stabble
  As nine score sheep.”

Starky. Used particularly of land which is stiff or unworkable,
especially after rain, and opposed to “stoachy,” which signifies muddy,
as in the common expression, “What a dreadful stoachy piece of ground.”

Thrifty. Still used in its old derivative sense of thriving, and so
flourishing. Once or twice I have heard it applied to physical health,
in the sense of being well, or “pure,” as is the more common saying.

Tine, To. To tine a candle, does not now so much mean to light, from the
Old-English _tendan_, to set on fire, as to snuff it.

Tuffet, A. A lump of earth, or hillock. Hence we have “tuffety,” in the
sense of uneven, or covered with hillocks.

Tuly. Weak, ailing. More common in the north of England. _See_
“Kittering.”

Twiddle, To. To whistle. “The robins are twiddling,” is a common phrase,
and which fact is said to be a sign of rain.

Vinney-Cheese. _See_ chap. xvi., p. 190.

Wag, A. A breath, a slight wind. “A wag of air,” means a gentle draught
of air. In Dorsetshire we still have “wag-wanton” applied to the
quaking-grass (_Briza media_). _See_ Barnes’ _Glossary of the
Dorsetshire Dialect_, p. 404.

Wase, A. A very small bundle of straw, more particularly a wisp for
cleaning a horse. Used also, according to Mr. Cooper, in Sussex.

Water-Tables. The side dikes along the road, which carry off the water.
Common throughout the West of England.

Weald, To. To bring corn or hay into swathe, before putting it, as it is
called, into “puck,” which see.

Wean-Gate, A. (From the Old-English _wæn-geat_, literally, the
waggon-door.) The tail-board, or ladder of a waggon.

Well-Crook, A. A stick for ladling the water out of the shallow Forest
pools and wells. Called in the Midland and Northern Counties a
“lade-gorn;” and formerly “a well graper.” (_See_ Froude’s _History of
England_, vol. i. p. 41, foot-note.)

Wimble, A. In addition to auger, as given in Wright and Halliwell’s
dictionaries, an instrument with which to take up faggots or trusses of
hay.

Wivvery. Giddy. “My head is wivvery,” is no uncommon expression. To
wivver, given by Wright and Halliwell as used in Kent, is more
especially employed here of the quivering flight of hawks, particularly
of the kestrel and hen-harrier.

Wosset, A. A small ill-favoured pig. The smallest pig in a “trip,” to
use a West-Country term for a litter, is known as the “doll,” the same
as the “nessle-tripe” of Dorsetshire; whilst a pig brought up by hand is
called a “graff,” or “grampher,” equivalent to “mud,” in the phrase
“mud-lamb,” or “mud-calf,” as also “sock,” and “sockling,” and
“tiddling,” used in various counties.

Yape, To. Not merely to gossip, as given by Mr. Cooper in his _Sussex
Glossary_, but to loiter. To yape about is used very much as is
shammock, which see.

Yaw, To. To chop, reap. Used of cutting corn, peas, or beans. “Hacking,”
however, is generally the term applied to harvesting the last, when the
reapers use two hooks, one to cut, and the other, an old one, to pull up
the halm.

    [Illustration: The Staple Cross, near Christchurch.]




                              APPENDIX II.
            THE FLOWERING PLANTS OF THE NEW FOREST DISTRICT.


These lists are not by any means put forward as exhaustive. Subsequent
investigations must very much increase them. Still, I trust they will be
found sufficient for botanists to generalize from, and useful as guides
to beginners. To the kindness of the Rev. H. M. Wilkinson, of Bisterne,
I am much indebted, as will be seen, for many new species and
localities, as also for the special arrangement of the _Gramineæ_,
_Cyperaceæ_, and _Juncaceæ_.

The nature of the country will best help us to make the divisions.
First, we have the true Forest district, with its heath, and bog, and
woodland plants; and next the valley of the Avon, with its
meadow-flowers; and, thirdly, the littoral plants, which we will at once
take.


Glaucium luteum, Scop., Yellow-horned Poppy. Leap. Eaglehurst, 46.[293]

Cakile maritima, Scop., Purple Sea-rocket. The sea-shore, Mudeford, 55.

Crambe maritima, Lin., Sea Kale. The sea-shore near Calshot and
Eaglehurst, where, as Bromfield remarks (Flora Vectensis, p. 48), the
young shoots are bleached by being covered with shingle, and then sent
to the Southampton market, 56.

Cochlearia officinalis, Lin., Common Scurvy Grass. Hurst Castle, 72.

Cochlearia anglica, Lin., English Scurvy Grass, Mudeford. R. Stevens,
Esq., 72 d.

Raphanus maritimus, Sm., Sea Radish. Mudeford, 124.

Silene maritima, With., Sea Bladder Campion. The Shingles. Hurst Castle,
153.

Honckeneja peploides, Ehrh., Sand Chickweed. Common on the coast, 173.

Spergularia marina, Camb., Sea Spurrey. Mudeford, 174.

Althæa officinalis, Lin., Marsh Mallow. Salt marshes of the Beaulieu
river, 208.

Lavatera arborea, Lin., Tree Mallow. Hurst Castle, where Ray saw it.
_See_, however, Bromfield in _Phytologist_, vol. iii. p. 270; 210.

Anthyllis vulneraria, Lin., Common Lady’s Fingers. Barton Cliffs, 257.

Tamarix gallica, Sm. “On the beach near Hurst Castle.” Garnier and
Poulter. Milford. Probably naturalized, as on the opposite coast near
Yarmouth. “The Lymington Salterns,” Rev. H. M. Wilkinson. _See_,
however, Bromfield, in _Phytologist_, vol. iii. p. 212; 392.

Eryngium maritimum, Lin., Sea Holly. Mudeford, 444.

Fœniculum vulgare, Gærtn, Common Fennel. Purewell Road, Christchurch,
476.

Apium graveolens, Lin., Wild Celery. “Marchwood,” W. A. Broomfield.
“Mudeford and Beaulieu,” Rev. H. M. Wilkinson, 450.

Œnanthe Lachenalii, Gmel., Lachenal’s Dropwort. “Mudeford,” Rev. H. M.
Wilkinson, 471.*

Carduus tenuiflorus, Curt., Small-flowered Thistle. Lanes near the
sea-coast, 597.

Artemisia maritima, Lin., Sea Wormwood. “The coast.” W. Pamplin. “Salt
marshes near Millbrook,” W. A. Bromfield; quoted in the _New Botanist’s
Guide_, 624.

Aster Tripolium, Lin. Sea Starwort. Very common in the rivers at
Beaulieu and Lymington, 641.

Inula crithmoides, Lin., Golden Samphire. Key Haven and Hurst Beach,
where Ray saw it, 657.

Convolvulus Soldanella, Lin., Sea Bindweed. Hurst Castle. Mudeford, 731.

Glaux maritima, Lin., Sea Milkwort or Glasswort. Hurst Castle, Beaulieu
Estuary, 894.

Armeria maritima, Aut., Common Thrift. Hordle and Barton Cliffs,
Beaulieu Estuary, 895.

Statice Limonium, Lin., Sea Lavender. On this and _S. rariflora_, _see_
Bromfield, in _Phytologist_, vol. iii. p. 742; 897.

Plantago maritima, Lin., Sea Plantain. The Beaulieu Estuary, 904.

Chenopodium olidum, Curt., Stinking Goosefoot. Mr. Wilkinson gives “the
seaside, Beaulieu,” 908.

Atriplex portulacoides, Lin. Hurst Castle, where I first saw it in 1859,
with Mr. Lees, 918.

Atriplex Babingtonii, Wds., “Mudeford,” Rev. H. M. Wilkinson, 921.

Atriplex littoralis, Lin., Grass-leaved Sea Orache. Estuary of the
Beaulieu river, 924.

Beta maritima, Lin., Sea Beet. Mudeford, 925.

Salsola Kali, Lin., Prickly Saltwort. The sea-shore, Mudeford, 926.

Schoberia maritima, Mey., Sea Goosefoot. Estuary, 927.

Salicornia herbacea, Lin., Jointed Glasswort. “The Beaulieu river,” Rev.
H. M. Wilkinson, 939.

Polygonum maritimum, Lin., Sea Knot Grass. “Mudeford,” Borrer, C. C.
Babington. (_See_ Watson’s _New Botanist’s Guide_, Supplement, vol. ii.
p. 570.) The Rev. W. M. Wilkinson has found it on the other side of the
harbour at Hengistbury Head, 940.

Polygonum Raii, Bab. “Mudeford,” Borrer, and R. Stevens, Esq., 940.*

Asparagus officinalis, Lin., Common Asparagus. “At Christchurch,”
Garnier and Poulter.

Triglochin maritimum, Lin., Sea Arrow Grass. Marshes of the Beaulieu
river, 1115.

Zostera marina, Lin., Narrow Grass Wrack. Southampton water, Hythe,
1137.

Juncus maritimus, Sm., Lesser Sharp Sea Rush. Beaulieu river, 1154.

Scirpus Savii, S. and M., Savis’ Club Rush. _See_ Bromfield, in
_Phytologist_, vol. iii. p. 1030; 1187.

Scirpus maritimus, Lin., Salt Marsh Club Rush. Mudeford, 1190.

Carex extensa, Good., Long Bracteated Carex. “The Beaulieu river,” Rev.
H. M. Wilkinson, 1235.

Ammophila arundinacea, Host., Sea Reed. The loose sand, Mudeford, where
it grows with _Triticum junceum_, 1293.

Glyceria maritima, M. and K., Sea Hard Grass. Mudeford, 1323.

Glyceria loliacea, Watson, Dwarf Sea-wheat Grass. “Mudeford. On the New
Forest side of the Avon, which is the only place I have ever seen it.”
Rev. H. M. Wilkinson, 1327.

Triticum junceum, Lin., Rushy Sea-wheat Grass. Mudeford, 1362.

Hordeum maritimum, With., Sea Barley. Very common along the whole of the
east coast. “By the roadside from Cadenham” (more probably Hythe) “to
Marchwood,” W. A. Bromfield. _See_ Watson’s _New Botanist’s Guide_, vol.
ii., p. 571.; 1369.[294]

Lepturus filiformis, Trin., Sea Hard-grass. Mudeford, 1371.


In the next division are placed more especially those plants which
either grow only in the Forest, or form a peculiar feature in its
landscapes, such as _Eriophorum angustifolium_, _Gentiana Pneumonanthe_,
_Drosera rotundifolia_, and _intermedia_, _Narthecium ossifragum_,
_Melittis Melissophyllum_, and the _Carices_, _Airæ_, and _Agrostes_
generally. The rest will be found in the third division, as common both
to the Forest and the adjoining districts. As the Ferns and St.
John’s-worts have been so fully mentioned in Chapter XXI., they will not
be again noticed.


Anemone nemorosa, Lin., Wood Anemone, 6.

Ranunculus aquatilis, Lin., Water Crowfoot. Streams and pools, not of
course confined to the Forest, but still a conspicuous feature, 11.

Ranunculus tripartitus, D. C., Three-parted-leaved Crowfoot, “with
_Limosella aquatica_, in splashy places by the roadside, just beyond the
bridge, as you leave Brockenhurst for Lyndhurst,” H. C. Watson, in a
private letter, 11.*

Ranunculus hirsutus, Curt., Hairy Crowfoot. Roads in the Forest, 22.

Caltha palustris, Lin., Common Marsh Marigold. Forest pools; but, of
course, in the district generally, 26.

Aquilegia vulgaris, Lin., Common Columbine. Very common round Wootton,
but may be found with _Hypericum androsæmum_ in the old woods of Mark
Ash, Gibb’s Hill, Winding Shoot, and Boldrewood, 31.

Nymphæa alba, Lin., White Water Lily. Forest streams. Not so common as
the next, but still a feature, 36.

Nuphar luteum, Sm., Yellow Water Lily. In the Avon, and elsewhere in the
district, 37.

Viola canina, Sm., Dog’s Violet. The violet of the Forest, but, of
course, common in the district, 135.

Viola lactea, Sm., Cream-coloured Violet. “Near Boldre,” W. A.
Bromfield. _See_ Watson’s _New Botanist’s Guide_, vol. ii., p. 567;
135.*

Drosera rotundifolia, Lin., Round-leaved Sundew. Everywhere in the
Forest, 138.

Drosera intermedia, Hayn., Narrow-leaved Sundew. Though not so common as
_rotundifolia_, it is equally distributed throughout the Forest
district, 139.

Polygala vulgaris, Lin., Common Milkwort, 141.

Mœnchia erecta, Sm., Upright Mœnchia. Common, 166.

Sagina subulata, Wimm., Ciliated Awl-shaped Spurrey, 170.*

Spergularia rubra, St. Hilaire, Purple Sandwort, 175.

Cerastium semidecandrum, Lin., Little Mouse-ear Chickweed, 194.

Cerastium tetrandrum, Curt., Four-cleft Mouse-ear Chickweed, 194.*

Linum angustifolium, Huds., Narrow-leaved Flax, 201.

Radiola millegrana, Sm., Thyme-leaved Flax-seed. Common. The Rev. P.
Somerville pointed it out to me in Beacon Bunny, growing close to the
sea, 203.

Tilia intermedia, D. C., Common Lime, 212.

Acer campestre, Lin., Field Maple. Rather plentiful in some of the
woods, 225.

Geranium pratense, Lin., Meadow Crane’s-bill. On a rubbish heap, near
Alum Green, where it had been naturalized, 231.

Oxalis Acetosella, Lin., Wood-sorrel. Very common, 243.

Euonymus Europæus, Lin., Spindle Tree. Here and there a specimen may be
seen, as at the north side of Wootton Enclosure, near the Osmanby Ford
River, 245.

Rhamnus Frangula, Lin., Alder Buckthorn, 247.

Spartium scoparium, Lin., Common Broom, 248.

Ulex Europæus, Lin., Furze, 249.

Ulex nanus, Forst., Dwarf Furze. If any one wishes to see the difference
between this and _Europæus_ he should visit the Forest at the end of
August or the beginning of Sept., 250.

Genista tinctoria, Lin., Dyers’ Green Weed. Common on the southern parts
of the Forest, 251.

Genista anglica, Lin., Petty Whin. Everywhere, 253.

Trifolium striatum, Lin., Soft Knotted Trefoil, 277.

Trifolium fragiferum, Lin., Strawberry-headed Trefoil. Ashley Common,
280.

Trifolium glomeratum, Lin., Smooth round-headed Trefoil, 278.

Orobus tuberosus, Lin., Common Bitter Vetch, 312.

Prunus spinosa, Lin., Sloe-tree, 314.

Prunus avium, Lin., Wild Cherry. Burley, 316.*

Potentilla Tormentilla, Schk., Common Tormentil, 332.

Comarum palustre, Lin., Purple Marsh Cinquefoil. Bog of the Osmanby Ford
River, below Wootton Enclosure, 334.

Fragaria vesca, Lin., Strawberry, 335.

Rubus Idæus, Lin., Raspberry. Young plantations, especially near
Boldrewood, 339.

Rubus fruticosus, Aut, Common Bramble, 340.

Rubus suberectus, Aud., Red-fruited Bramble. Wootton Enclosures, where
it was first pointed out to me in 1859 by Mr. Lees, 340 (3).

Rosa spinosissima, Lin., Burnet-leaved Rose. Not uncommon round Ashley
and Wootton, 341.

Cratægus Oxyacantha, Lin., Common Hawthorn, 360.

Pyrus Malus, Lin., Wild Crab, 363.

Pyrus torminalis, Sm., Wild Service Tree, 364.

Pyrus Aria, Sm., White Beam, 365.

Pyrus Aucuparia, Gært., Mountain Ash. Probably naturalized, 366.

Epilobium montanum, Lin., Mountain Willow Herb, 370.

Isnardia palustris, Lin., Marsh Isnardia. Found at Brockenhurst by Mr.
Borrer; _Phytologist_, vol. iii. p. 368. _See_ also iv. p. 754; 376.

Circæa lutetiania, Lin., Enchanter’s Nightshade. In most of the old
woods, 377.

Lythrum salicaria, Lin., Purple Willow Herb. The Forest pools, 390.

Tillæa muscosa, Lin., Moss-like Tillæa. Everywhere in the Forest, 407.

Hedera Helix, Lin., Common Ivy, 438.

Cornus sanguinea, Lin., Cornel-tree, 439.

Hydrocotyle vulgaris, Lin., Marsh Pennywort. Throughout the Forest, 441.

Sanicula Europæa, Lin., Wood Sanicle. In most of the old woods, 442.

Viscum album, Lin., Mistletoe. Grows chiefly on the black poplar,
especially near Godshill. I have never seen it on the oak. Abundance of
it may be found in the apple-trees in the Forest keeper’s garden at
Boldrewood, 503.

Sambucus nigra, Lin., Common Elder, 504.

Sambucus Ebulus, Lin., Danewort. “Near Lyndhurst,” T. B. Rake, Esq.,
505.

Viburnum Opulus, Lin., Guelder Rose, 506.

Lonicera Periclymenum, Lin., Common Honeysuckle, 508.

Galium verum, Lin., Ladies’ Bed-straw, 513.

Hieracium vulgatum, Freis., Wood Hawkweed, 568 (24).

Serratula tinctoria, Lin., Saw-wort. Throughout the Forest, 594.

Carduus Marianus, Lin., Blessed Thistle. Forest roadsides, 598.

Carduus pratensis, Huds., Meadow Thistle. Abundant in the southern part
of the Forest round Wootton, 604.

Bidens cernua, Lin., Nodding Bur Marigold. Waste lands round and in the
Forest. Has a fine effect on the landscape near Godshill; common,
however, throughout the district, 617.

Eupatorium cannabinum, Lin., Hemp Agrimony. Gives a rich appearance to
the Forest streams; but, of course, abundant elsewhere, 619.

Filago minima, Fries. The Least Cudweed, 634.

Solidago Virgaurea, Lin., Golden Rod. Throughout the Forest, 642.

Senecio sylvaticus, Lin., Wild Groundsel. This plant, with the common
nettle, is especially remarkable in the Forest, as an indication of the
former existence of habitations. It may be noticed in Sloden, Eyeworth,
and Island’s Thorn, near the Romano-British potteries. (_See_ ch. xviii.
p. 216, foot-note.)

Achillea Ptarmica, Lin., Sneese-wort. Throughout the Forest, 671.

Campanula rotundifolia, Lin., Nodding-flowered Hare-bell, 675.

Jasione montana, Lin., Sheep’s-bit Scabious, 687.

Erica Tetralix, Lin., Cross-leaved Heath, 690.

Erica cinerea, Lin., Fine-leaved Heath, 692.

Calluna vulgaris, Salisb., Common Ling, 695.

Vaccinium Myrtillus, Lin., the Bilberry; better known in the Forest as
the “Blackheart,” 703.

Ilex Aquifolium, Lin., Common Holly. Most abundant, 713.

Fraxinus excelsior, Lin., Common Ash. Scarce, 715.

Vinca minor, Lin., Lesser Periwinkle. Hedges round and in the Forest, as
at Sway, Ashley, Canterton, 716.

Gentiana Pneumonanthe, Lin., Calathian Violet. Very plentiful some years
at Wootton, 719.

Cicendia filiformis, Reich., Least Gentianella. Damp places in the
Forest. Rev. H. M. Wilkinson gives especially the neighbourhood of
Burley, 723.

Menyanthes trifoliata, Lin., Common in most of the Forest pools on the
South, 727.

Cuscuta Epithymum, Sm., Lesser Dodder. Distributed through the Forest,
on the heath and furze, 734.

Verbascum Blattaria, Lin., Moth Mullein. Not common in the Forest. I
have seen a few specimens on Ashley Common; but, in 1861, a field near
the new parsonage was covered with it and the viper’s bugloss. Mr. Rake
has found it growing at Gorely, on the north-west side of the Forest,
744.

Veronica scutellata, Lin., Narrow-leaved Marsh Speedwell. Not common.
Mr. Wilkinson gives marshy spots near Sandford and Crow, on the borders
of the Forest, 753.

Euphrasia officinalis, Lin., Common Eyebright, 766.

Melampyrum pratense, Lin., Meadow Cow Wheat, 770.

Pedicularis palustris, Lin., Marsh Lousewort, 772.

Pedicularis sylvatica, Lin., Common Lousewort, 773.

Digitalis purpurea, Lin., Purple Foxglove, 778.

Limosella aquatica, Lin., Common Mudwort. Found by Mr. H. C. Watson on
the road from Brockenhurst to Lyndhurst, after you pass the bridge from
the former place, 788.

Orobanche major, Angl., Great Broom-rape. On the furze, especially in
the northern parts of the Forest, 790.

Mentha aquatica, Lin., Water Mint, but of course throughout the
district, 806.

Mentha pratensis, Sole, Meadow Mint. I give this on the authority of
Sole, quoted by Dawson Turner, as found in the Forest, 807 e.

Mentha Pulegium, Lin., Pennyroyal. Not uncommon, especially in wet
places on the southern parts of the Forest, round Wilverley and
Holmsley, 809.

Thymus Serpyllum, Lin., Wild Thyme, 810.

Calamintha Clinopodium, Spen., Wild Basil, 815.

Melittis Melissophyllum, Lin., Bastard Balm. Very plentiful on the outer
bank of Wootton Enclosure, looking westward, 817.

Teucrium Scorodonia, Lin., Wood Sage, 818.

Stachys Betonica, Benth., Wood Betony, 836.

Scutellaria minor, Lin., Lesser Skull-cap. Damp places in the Forest,
especially round Wootton, 846.

Pulmonaria angustifolia, Lin., Narrow-leaved Lungwort. Very common round
Wootton, both with and without spots on the leaves. (_See_ Watson’s _New
Botanist’s Guide_, vol. ii., p. 569; and the _Cybele Britannica_, vol.
iii., p. 488), 868.

Pinguicula Lusitanica, Lin., Pale Butterwort. Bogs round Wootton; Ashley
Common, where the Rev. P. Somerville first pointed it out to me. Mr.
Wilkinson also gives Sandford and Crow as localities, 874.

Utricularia vulgaris, Lin., Water Milfoil. Pools in the southern part of
the Forest, as also on Ashley Common, 875.

Utricularia minor, Lin., Smaller Bladderwort. Hinchelsea Bog, where I
found it in 1859, with Mr. Lees. The Rev. H. M. Wilkinson gives also
ponds near Burley, and Mr. Somerville ponds at the Osmanby Ford stream,
877.

Primula vulgaris, Huds., Common Primrose, 878.

Lysimachia nemorum, Lin., Wood Loosetrife, 889.

Anagallis tenella, Lin., Bog Pimpernel. In all the boggy places, 891.

Centunculus minimus, Lin., Chaffweed, 892.

Samolus Valerandi, Lin., Brookweed. Found it, with Mr. Lees, on Ashley
Common, June 14, 1859. “The Beaulieu River,” Rev. H. M. Wilkinson. It
shows a decided partiality for the southern part towards the sea, 893.

Littorella lacustris, Lin., Common Shore-weed, 905.

Euphorbia amygdaloides, Lin., Wood Spurge, 974.

Mercurialis perennis, Lin., Perennial Mercury, 976.

Quercus Robur, Lin., the Oak, 988.

Quercus sessiliflora, Sm., Sessile-fruited Oak. The finest in the Forest
are now in the Brook Woods, 988 c.

Fagus sylvatica, Lin., the Beech, 989.

Carpinus Betulus, Lin., Hornbeam. Scarce, 990.

Corylus Avellana, Lin., Hazel, 991.

Alnus glutinosa, Lin., Common Alder, 992.

Betula alba, Lin., Common Birch, 993.

Populus alba, Lin., White Poplar, 995.

Populus tremula, Lin., Aspen, 997.

Populus nigra, Lin., Black Poplar, 998.

Salix viminalis, Lin., Common Osier, 1007.

Salix repens, Lin., Creeping Willow, 1017.

Myrica Gale, Lin., Bog Myrtle. The “Gold Withy” of the Forest, 1023.

Spiranthes autumnalis, Rich., Late-flowering Lady’s Tresses. Very common
in the pastures near the Forest, and on the turfy spots of the Forest
lanes on the southern part, 1033.

Spiranthes æstivalis, Rich., Early-flowering Lady’s Tresses. Found by
Bromfield and Mr. Bennett in bogs near Lyndhurst toll-gate.
_Phytologist_, vol. iii. p. 909; iv. p. 754; 1034.

Epipactis latifolia, Sm. Chewton Glen and woods running into the Forest.
The Rev. P. Somerville also gives Ashley Common, 1039.

Orchis latifolia, Lin., Broad-leaved Meadow Orchis. Hinchelsea Bog. Mr.
Wilkinson also gives the neighbourhood of Burley, 1052.

Gymnadenia Conopsea, Br., Fragrant-scented Orchis. Very plentiful on the
south side of the railway, between Burley and Batson’s Clump, about a
quarter of a mile above the large “Shade pond.” To be found also between
Bushy Bratley and Boldrewood, 1054.

Habenaria bifolia, Br. Common in most of the open parts of the Forest,
1055.

Gladiolus Illyricus, Koch. First discovered in the Forest by the Rev. W.
H. Lucas. (_See Phytologist_, Sept., 1857.) Road from Boldrewood to
Lyndhurst; path from Liney Hill Wood to Rhinefield; Oakley Plantation,
near Boldrewood; and the neighbourhood of the Knyghtwood Oak, where Mr.
Rake and myself saw it in great abundance, July 11, 1862. In all these
localities it is confined to the light sand, growing especially amongst
the common brake, and seldom, if ever, extends into the heather, which
grows close round. On some specimens which I forwarded, Mr. Watson
observes, in speaking of the distinction between _Gladiolus imbricatus_
and _Illyricus_:—“The New Forest plant has the obovate capsules, hardly
so much keeled, however, as described by French botanists, unless the
keel becomes sharper with advancing age.”

Narcissus pseudo-narcissus, Lin., Daffodil. South side of the Forest
near Wootton, 1073.

Hyacinthus non-scriptus, Lin., Bluebell, 1093.

Ruscus aculeatus, Lin., Butcher’s Broom. The “Kneeholm” of the Forest,
1097.

Hydrocharis Morsus-ranæ, Lin., Common Frog-bit, 1107.

Alisma ranunculoides, Lin. Ashley and Chewton Commons. Pulteney gives
“Sopley, near the Avon,” 1110.

Actinocarpus Damasonium, Br., Star-headed Water Plantain. “Barton
Common,” the Rev. P. Somerville, 1112.

Potamogeton plantagineus, Ducroz., Plantain-leaved Pond-weed. Boggy
streams, 1134.

Typha latifolia, Lin., Reed-mace, 1147.

Typha angustifolia, Lin., Lesser Reed-mace. Ponds at Wootton, 1148.

Juncus squarrosus, Lin., Moss-rush Goose-corn, 1163.

Luzula sylvatica, Bich., Great Wood Rush, 1169.

Luzula pilosa, Willd., Broad-leaved Hairy Wood Rush, 1170.

Narthecium ossifragum, Huds., Lancashire Bog Asphodel, 1175.

Schænus nigricans, Lin., Black Bog Rush. Bogs round Holmsley, 1179.

Rhynchospora alba, Vahl., White Beak Rush, 1180.

Rhynchospora fusca, Sm., Brown Beak Rush. Valley of the Osmanby Ford
stream, Rev. H. M. Wilkinson, 1181.

Scirpus setaceus, Lin., Bristle-stalked Club Rush, 1186.

Scirpus cæspitosus, Lin., Scaly-stalked Club Rush, 1196.

Scirpus fluitans, Lin., Floating Club Rush, 1198.

Eriophorum angustifolium, Rh., Common Cotton Grass, 1200.

Carex pulicaris, Lin., Flea Carex, 1205.

Carex stellulata, Good., Little Prickly Carex, 1209.

Carex ovalis, Good., Oval-spiked Carex, 1211.

Carex remota, Lin., Remote Carex. The Forest streams, 1214.

Carex intermedia, Good., Soft brown Carex. Boggy places, 1217.

Carex arenaria, Lin., Sea Carex. The south side of the Forest, towards
the sea.

Carex divulsa, Good., Grey Carex, 1221.

Carex vulpina, Lin., Great Compound Prickly Carex, 1222.

Carex flava, Lin., Yellow Carex, 1234.

Carex fulva, Good., Tawny Carex, 1249.

Carex panicea, Lin., Pink-leaved Carex, 1241.

Carex sylvatica, Huds., Pendulous Wood-Carex, 1247.

Carex Pseudo-cyperus, Lin., Cyperus-like Carex, 1249.

Carex glauca, Scop., Glaucous Heath Carex, 1250.

Carex hirta, Lin., Hairy Carex, 1257.

Carex paludosa, Good., Lesser Common Carex, 1260.

Carex riparia, Curtis., Great Common Carex, 1261.

Phalaris arundinacea, Lin., Reed Canary Grass, 1269.

Agrostis setacea, Curtis., Bristle-leaved Bent Grass. Broomy and
Bratley. “Near Lymington,” Turner, 1289.

Agrostis canina, Lin., Brown Bent Grass, 1290.

Agrostis vulgaris, With., Common Bent Grass, 1291.

Agrostis alba, Lin., Marsh Bent Grass, 1292.

Arundo Calamagrostis, Lin., Purple-flowered Small Reed. “Near
Marchwood,” W. A. Bromfield, 1295.

Aira cæspitosa, Lin., Turfy Hair Grass, 1300.

Aira flexuosa, Lin., Wavy Hair Grass, 1302.

Aira caryophyllea, Lin., Silver Grass, 1303.

Aira præcox, Lin., Early Hair Grass, 1304.

Triodia decumbens, Beauv., Decumbent Heath Grass, 1315.

Molinia cœrulea, Mœnch., Heath Purple Melic Grass, 1319.

Festuca bromoides, Lin., Barren Fescue Grass, 1341.

Festuca ovina, Lin., Sheep’s Fescue Grass, 1342.

Festuca rubra, Lin., Creeping Fescue Grass, 1344.

Nardus stricta, Lin., Common Mat Grass, 1370.

Pilulifera globulifera, Lin., Pillwort or Peppergrass. Bogs round
Holmsley, 1419.

Equisetum limosum, Lin., Smooth Naked Horsetail, 1425.


Proceeding now to the plants of the Valley of the Avon, and the
cultivated districts round Christchurch, and Lymington, and Beaulieu, we
shall be able to see those colonists which follow the footsteps of man,
the pascual flowers of the meadows, and the Flora of the Avon. Where not
particularly named, the plants are in many cases found also distributed
in the Forest; but, being on the whole more characteristic of the
Valley, are therefore inserted in this list.


Thalictrum flavum, Lin., Common Meadow Rue, 4.

Adonis autumnalis, Lin., Common Pheasant Eye. Mudeford, 9.

Myosurus minimus, Lin., Least Mouse-tail. Cornfields round Milton, 10.

Ranunculus hederaceus, Lin., Ivy-leaved Crowfoot, 13.

Ranunculus Ficaria, Lin., Common Pilewort, 14.

Ranunculus Flammula, Lin., Lesser Spearwort, 15.

Ranunculus Lingua, Lin., Greater Spearwort. Used to be very common on
Ashley Common (now enclosed), growing in the pools with _Osmunda
regalis_, 16.

Ranunculus acris, Lin., Upright Meadow Crowfoot, 19.

Ranunculus repens, Lin., Creeping Crowfoot, 20.

Ranunculus bulbosus, Lin., Bulbous Crowfoot, 21.

Ranunculus sceleratus, Lin., Celery-leaved Crowfoot, 23.

Ranunculus parviflorus, Lin., Small-flowered Crowfoot. “Hedgebanks
between Bisterne and Ringwood,” Rev. H. M. Wilkinson. Ray and Bromfield
give Lymington, 24.

Papaver Argemone, Lin., Long-headed Rough Poppy, 40.

Papaver dubium, Lin., Long Smooth-headed Poppy, 41.

Papaver Rhæas, Lin., Field Poppy, 42.

Chelidonium majus, Lin., Common Celandine, 45.

Corydalis claviculata, D. C., White-flowered Fumitory, 48.

Fumaria capreolata, Lin., Ramping Fumitory, 50.

Fumaria officinalis, Lin., Common Fumitory, 51.

Coronopus Ruellii, Lin., Common Wart-Cress, 58.

Thlaspi asvense, Lin., Penny-Cress, 60.

Capsella Bursa pastoris, D. C., Shepherd’s Purse, 63.

Lepidium Smithii, Hook., Smith’s Peppermint, 69.

Lepidium campestre, Br., Field Mustard, 70.

Draba verna, Lin., Common Whitlow Grass, 79.

Cardamine pratensis, Lin., Lady’s Smock, 85.

Cardamine hirsuta, Lin., Hairy Marsh Butter-Cress, 86.

Arabis thaliana, Lin., Common Thale-Cress, 88.

Barbarea vulgaris, Br., Common Winter Cress, 95.

Barbarea præcox, Br., Early Winter or American Cress. “Grows on the
bridge at Christchurch,” Rev. H. M. Wilkinson, 97.

Nasturtium officinale, Br., Water Cress, 98.

Nasturtium terrestre, Br., Land Cress, 99.

Sisymbrium officinale, Scop., Common Hedge Mustard, 102.

Erysimum Alliaria, Lin., Hedge Garlic, 107.

Cheiranthus Cheiri, Lin., Wallflower. Walls of the Priory Church,
Christchurch, 109.

Sinapis Arvensis, Lin., Wild Mustard, 116.

Raphanus Rhaphanistrum, Lin., Wild Radish, 123.

Helianthemum vulgare, Gært., Common Rock Rose, 128.

Viola tricolor, Lin., Heartsease, 136.

Viola hirta, Lin., Hairy Violet. “Grows at Bisterne,” Rev. H. M.
Wilkinson. On the specific distinctions between this and the next, see
what my friend the late Mr. Cheshire said in the _Phytologist_.

Viola odorata, Lin., Sweet Violet, 135.

Dianthus plumarius, Lin., Feathered Pink. Cloister walls, Beaulieu, 147.

Dianthus Armeria, Lin., Debtford Pink. First discovered by T. B. Rake,
Esq., on a bank in a lane near the Hucklebrook, Fordingbridge, where I
saw it, with him, growing, June, 1862.

Saponaria officinalis, Lin., Common Soapwort. The Christchurch and
Ringwood Road, near the latter place; Bashley, 151.

Silene inflata, Sm., Bladder Catch-fly, 152.

Silene Anglica, Lin., English Catch-fly, 155.

Lychnis Flos-cuculi, Lin., Ragged Robin, 162.

Lychnis diurna, Sibth., Red Campion, 163.

Lychnis vespertina, Sibth., White Campion, 164.

Lychnis Githago, Lam., Corn Cockle, 165.

Sagina procumbens, Lin., Procumbent Pearlwort, 167.

Sagina apetala, Lin., Erect Pearlwort, 169.

Sagina nodosa, Lin., Knotted Spurrey, 171.

Spergula arvensis, Lin., Common Spurrey, 172.

Arenaria serpyllifolia, Lin., Thyme-leaved Sandwort, 178.

Arenaria trinervis, Lin., Plantain-leaved Sandwort, 182.

Stellaria media, With., Common Chickweed, 185.

Stellaria Holostea, Lin., Greater Stitchwort, 186.

Stellaria glauca, With., Glaucous Stitchwort, 187.

Stellaria graminea, Lin., Grassy-leaved Stitchwort, 188.

Stellaria uliginosa, Murr., Bog Stitchwort, 189.

Cerastium aquaticum, Lin., Water Chickweed, 191.

Cerastium glomeratum, Thuil., Broad-leaved Mouse-ear Chickweed, 192.

Cerastium triviale, Link., Narrow-leaved Mouse-ear Chickweed, 193.

Linum catharticum, Lin., Purging Flax, 202.

Malva moschata, Lin., Musk Mallow. Lanes near the Forest, 204.

Malva sylvestris, Lin., Common Mallow, 205.

Malva rotundifolia, Lin., Round-leafed Dwarf Mallow, 206.

Erodium cicutarium, Sm., Hemlock Stork’s-bill, 228.

Geranium pusillum, Lin., Small-flowered Crane’s-bill, 234.

Geranium molle, Lin., Common Dove’s-foot Crane’s-bill, 235.

Geranium dissectum, Lin., Jagged-leaved Crane’s-bill, 236.

Geranium columbinum, Lin., Long-stalked Crane’s-bill, 237.

Geranium lucidum, Lin., Shining-leaved Common Crane’s-bill. In the
neighbourhood of Fordingbridge, Mr. Rake found it growing abundantly,
June 17, 1862, the only station of which I am aware.

Geranium Robertianum, Lin., Herb Robert, 239.

Ononis arvensis, Lin., Rest Harrow, 254.

Medicago sativa, Lin., Lucern, 258.

Medicago lupulina, Lin., Black Medick, 260.

Melilotus officinalis, Willd., Common Melilot, 264.

Trifolium repens, Lin., White Trefoil, 267.

Trifolium subterraneum, Lin., “Gravelly pastures at Bisterne.” Rev. H.
M. Wilkinson, 268.

Trifolium pratense, Lin., Purple Clover, 271.

Trifolium arvense, Lin., Hare’s-foot Trefoil, 275.

Trifolium procumbens, Lin., Hop Trefoil, 281.

Trifolium minus, Relh., Lesser Yellow Trefoil, 282.

Lotus major, Scop., Large Bird’s-foot Trefoil, 284.

Lotus corniculatus, Lin., Common Bird’s-foot Trefoil, 283.

Ornithopus perpusillus, Lin., Bird’s-foot, 291.

Vicia Cracca, Lin., Tufted Vetch, 297.

Vicia sativa, Lin., Common Vetch, 298.

Vicia sepium, Lin., Bush Vetch, 301.

Vicia hirsuta, Koch., Hairy-podded Tare, 303.

Vicia tetrasperma, Koch., Smooth-podded Tare, 304.

Lathyrus pratensis, Lin., Meadow Vetchling, 308.

Spiræa Ulmaria, Lin., Meadowsweet, 317.

Spiræa salicifolia, Lin., Willow-leaved Spiræa. “Grows near Bisterne,
but perhaps not truly wild,” Rev. H. M. Wilkinson, 319.

Geum urbanum, Lin., Herb Bennet, 321.

Geum rivale, Lin., Water Avens, 322.

Agrimonia Eupatoria, Lin., Common Agrimony, 323.

Potentilla anserina, Lin., Silverweed, 327.

Potentilla argentea, Lin., Horny Cinquefoil. Sandy fields in the
neighbourhood of the Forest, 328.

Potentilla reptans, Lin., Creeping Cinquefoil, 331.

Potentilla fragariastrum, Eh., Barren Strawberry, 333.

Rubus corylifolius, Sm., Hazel-leaved Bramble, 340 (36).

Rubus cæsius, Lin., Dewberry, 340 (38).

Rosa canina, Lin., Dog-rose, 351.

Rosa arvensis, Lin., Trailing Dog-rose, 353.

Poterium Sanguisorba, Lin., Common Salad Burnet, 355.

Alchemilla arvensis, Lam., Parsley Piert, 358.

Epilobium angustifolium, Lin., French Willow-Herb, 367.

Epilobium hirsutum, Lin., Great Hairy Willow-Herb, 368.

Epilobium parviflorum, Schreb., Small-flowered Willow-Herb, 369.

Epilobium palustre, Lin., Marsh Willow-Herb, 372.

Epilobium tetragonum, Lin., Square-stalked Willow-Herb (?), 373.

Myriophyllum verticillatum, Lin., Whorl-flowered Water Milfoil,
“Sopley,” Garnier and Poulter, Rev. H. M. Wilkinson, 380.

Myriophyllum spicatum, Lin., Spiked Water Milfoil, 381.

Callitriche verna, Lin., Vernal Water Starwort, 383.

Peplis portula, Lin., Water Purslane, 391.

Bryonia dioica, Lin., White Briony, 393.

Montia fontana, Lin., Water Blinks, 394.

Claytonia perfoliata, Don., American Salad. First discovered by Mr.
Hussey near Mudeford (_see_ _Phytologist_, N. S. vol. i. p. 389). I
received specimens from Dr. Stevens gathered at the same place, May
11th, 1862.

Scleranthus annuus, Lin., Annual Knawel, 399.

Ribes rubrum, Lin., Red Currant. With the next “at Bisterne, apparently
wild,” Rev. H. M. Wilkinson, 404.

Ribes Grossularia, Lin., Gooseberry, 406.

Sedum telephium, Lin., Everlasting Orpine, 409.

Sedum Anglicum, Huds., English Stonecrop. “Avon Tyrrell,” Rev. H. M.
Wilkinson, 412.

Sedum acre, Lin., Biting Stonecrop, 414.

Sedum reflexum, Lin., Crooked Yellow Stonecrop. This is only a casual
escape. And, perhaps, like _Sempervivum tectorum_, ought to be excluded.
_See_ Bromfield in _Phytologist_, vol. iii. pp. 372, 416.

Cotyledon Umbilicus, Lin., Common Navelwort. “Road from Redbridge into
the New Forest,” W. Pamplin, quoted in Watson’s _New Botanist’s Guide_;
“Dragon Lane, Bisterne,” Rev. H. M. Wilkinson, 418.

Saxifraga tridactylites, Lin., Rue-leaved Saxifrage, 430.

Chrysoplenium oppositifolium, Lin., Opposite-leaved Golden Saxifrage,
434.

Adoxa moschatellina, Lin., Tuberous Moschatel, 437.

Conium maculatum, Lin., Common Hemlock, 446.

Helosciadium nodiflorum, Koch., Procumbent Marshwort, 454.

Helosciadium inundatum, Koch., Least Water Marshwort, 455.

Ægopodium podagraria, Lin., Common Gout-weed, 457.

Bunium flexuosum, With., Earth-Nut, 461.

Pimpinella Saxifraga, Lin., Common Burnet Saxifrage, 462.

Sium angustifolium, Lin., Narrow-leaved Water-Parsnep, 465.

Œnanthe fistulosa, Lin., Common Water-Dropwort, 470.

Œnanthe pimpinelloides, Lin., Parsley Water-Dropwort. Plentiful round
Milford in 1859. _See_ Bromfield in _Phytologist_, vol. iii. p. 405,
471.

Œnanthe crocata, Lin., Water Hemlock, 473.

Œnanthe Phellandrium, Lin., Fine-leaved Water-Dropwort, 474.

Æthusa cynapium, Lin., Fools’ Parsley, 475.

Angelica sylvestris, Lin., Wild Angelica, 482.

Heracleum Sphondylium, Lin., Cow Parsnep, 487

Daucus Carota, Lin., Common Carrot, 489.

Torilis anthriscus, Gærtn., Upright Hedge Parsley, 493.

Torilis infesta, Spr., Spreading Hedge Parsley, 494.

Torilis nodosa, Gærtn., Knotted-Hedge Parsley, 495.

Scandix Pecten, Lin., Shepherd’s Needle, 496.

Anthriscus vulgaris, Pers., Common Beaked Parsley, 497.

Anthriscus sylvestris, Hoff., Wild Chervil, 498.

Chærophyllum temulentum, Lin., Hare’s Parsley, 500.

Galium palustre, Lin., Marsh Goose-Grass, 515.

Galium uliginosum, Lin., Rough Marsh Bed-Straw, 516.

Galium saxatile, Lin., Mountain Bed-Straw. Perhaps this ought rather to
come under the head of Forest Plants, 517.

Galium mollugo, Lin., Great Hedge Bed-Straw, 519.

Galium aparine, Lin., Goose-Grass, 523.

Sherardia arvensis, Lin., Field Madder.

Asperula odorata, Lin., Scented Woodruff, 527.

Valeriana dioica, Lin., Marsh Valerian, 531.

Valeriana officinalis, Lin., Common Valerian, 532.

Fedia olitoria, Vahl., Lamb’s Lettuce, 534.

Fedia dentata, Bieb., Oval-fruited Corn Salad, 537.

Dipsacus sylvestris, Lin., Teasel, 539.

Dipsacus pilosus, Lin., Shepherd’s Rod. “Woods near Hale,” T. Beaven
Rake, 540.

Scabiosa succisa, Lin., Devil’s-bit Scabious, 541.

Knautia arvensis, Coult., Field Scabious, 543.

Tragopogon pratensis, Lin., Meadow Goat’s Beard, 544.

Helminthia echioides, Gærtn, Echium-like Ox-tongue. Efford Mill,
Pennington, 546.

Thrincia hirta, Roth., Rough Thrincia, 548.

Apargia hispida, Willd., Rough Hawkbit, 549.

Apargia autumnalis, Willd., Autumnal Hawkbit, 550.

Hypochæris radicata, Lin., Long-rooted Cat’s-ear, 553.

Lactuca muralis, Less., Wall Lettuce. Beaulieu and Ellingham churches,
557.

Sonchus arvensis, Lin., Field Sow Thistle, 559.

Sonchus asper, Hoffm., Rough Sow Thistle, 560.

Sonchus oleraceus, Lin., Sow Thistle, 561.

Crepis virens, Lin., Smooth Crepis, 563.

Hieracium Pilosella, Lin., Mouse-ear Hawkweed, 568.

Hieracium umbellatum, Lin., Narrow-leaved Hawkweed. “Bisterne,” Rev. H.
M. Wilkinson.

Hieracium boreale, Fries., “Bisterne,” Rev. H. M. Wilkinson.

Taraxacum officinale, Wigg., Dandelion, 588.

Lapsana communis, Lin., Nipplewort, 590.

Cichorium intybus, Lin., Common Chicory, 591.

Arctium Lappa, Lin., Burdock, 592.

Carduus nutans, Lin., Nodding Thistle. Roadsides round the Forest, 595.

Carduus lanceolatus, Lin., Spear Thistle, 599.

Carduus palustris, Lin., Marsh Thistle, 601.

Carduus arvensis, Lin., Field Thistle, 602.

Carduus acaulis, Lin., Dwarf Thistle, 606.

Onopordum acanthium, Lin., Cotton Thistle, 608.

Carlina vulgaris, Lin., Common Carline Thistle, 609.

Centaurea nigra, Lin., Black Knapweed, 611.

Centaurea Cyanus, Lin., Cornflower, 612.

Centaurea Scabiosa, Lin., Great Knapweed, 613.

Bidens tripartita, Three-lobed Bur-marigold, 618.

Tanacetum vulgare, Lin., Common Tansy, 622.

Artemisia vulgaris, Lin., Mugwort, 626.

Gnaphalium sylvaticum, Lin., Upright Cudweed, 630.

Gnaphalium uliginosum, Lin., Marsh Cudweed, 632.

Filago germanica, Lin., Erect Cudweed, 635.

Tussilago Farfara, Lin., Common Coltsfoot, 637.

Erigeron acris, Lin., Blue Fleabane. “Near Milton,” Rev. P. Somerville,
639.

Senecio vulgaris, Lin., Groundsel, 643.

Senecio Jacobæa, Lin., Ragwort, 648.

Senecio aquaticus, Huds., Water Ragwort. “Bisterne,” Rev. H. M.
Wilkinson, 648.*

Inula Conyza, D. C., Ploughman’s Spikenard. “Sopley,” Rev. H. M.
Wilkinson, 656.

Pulicaria dysenterica, Gærtn., Common Fleabane, 658.

Pulicaria vulgaris, Gærtn., Small Fleabane. “Marchwood,” W. A. Bromfield
(_Phytologist_, vol. iii. p. 433); “Bisterne,” Rev. H. M. Wilkinson,
659.

Bellis perennis, Lin., Common Daisy, 660.

Chrysanthemum segetum, Lin., Corn Marigold, 661.

Chrysanthemum Leucanthemum, Lin., Great Ox-eye Daisy, 662.

Pyrethrum Parthenium, Sm., Feverfew, 663.

Pyrethrum inodorum, Sm., Scentless Feverfew, 664.

Matricaria Chamomilla, Lin., Wild Chamomile, 665.

Anthemis nobilis, Lin., Common Chamomile, 666.

Anthemis arvensis, Lin., Corn Chamomile, 668.

Anthemis Cotula, Lin., Stinking Mayweed, 669.

Achillea Millefolium, Lin., Yarrow, 672.

Campanula patula, Lin., Spreading Bell-flower. Avon Tyrrell, 676.

Specularia hybrida, D. C., Venus’s Looking-glass. “Corn-fields near
Sandford,” Rev. H. M. Wilkinson, 684.

Ligustrum vulgare, Lin., Common Privet, 714.

Erythræa Centaurium, Pers., Common Centaury, 724.

Chlora perfoliata, Lin., Perfoliate Yellow-wort, 725.

Convolvulus arvensis, Lin., Small Bindweed, 729.

Convolvulus sepium, Lin., Great Bindweed, 730.

Hyoscyamus niger, Lin., Henbane. Roadside bank near Ibbesley, 736.

Datura Stramonium, Lin., Thorn Apple. Near Ringwood, on the Christchurch
road.

Solanum nigrum, Lin., Black Nightshade, 737.

Solanum Dulcamara, Lin., Woody Nightshade, 738.

Verbascum Thapsus, Lin., Taper Moth Mullein, 740.

Verbascum nigrum, Lin., Black Moth Mullein, 743.

Veronica arvensis, Lin., Wall Speedwell, 747.

Veronica serpyllifolia, Lin., Thyme-leaved Speedwell, 750.

Veronica Anagallis, Lin., Water Speedwell, 754.

Veronica Beccabunga, Lin., Brooklime, 755.

Veronica officinalis, Lin., Common Speedwell, 756.

Veronica Chamædrys, Lin., Germander Speedwell, 758.

Veronica hederifolia, Lin., Ivy-leaved Speedwell, 759.

Veronica agrestis, Lin., Procumbent Speedwell, 760.

Veronica Buxbaumii, Ten., Buxbaum’s Speedwell. Mr. Rake found it in
abundance not far from Fordingbridge, March, 1862, 762.

Bartsia odontites, Huds., Red Rattle, 765.

Rhinanthus Crista-galli, Lin., Meadow Rattle, 767.

Scrophularia nodosa, Lin., Knotty-rooted Figwort, 774.

Scrophularia aquatica, Lin., Water Figwort, 775.

Antirrhinum Orontium, Lin., Field Snap-dragon. Milton and Somerford,
780.

Linaria Cymbalaria, Mill., Wall Toad-flax, 781.

Linaria Elatine, Mill., Sharp-pointed Toad-flax, 783.

Linaria repens, Ait., Creeping Toad-flax. “Marchwood,” Borrer, 784.

Linaria vulgaris, Mill., Common Toad-flax, 785.

Orobanche minor, Sutt., Lesser Broom-rape, 793.

Verbena officinalis, Lin., Common Vervain, 798.

Salvia verbenaca, Lin., Wild Clary. Roads near Christchurch; keep of
Christchurch Castle; Beaulieu Churchyard, 799.

Lycopus Europæus, Lin., Gipsy-wort, 801.

Mentha sativa, Lin., Hairy Water Mint, 807.

Mentha arvensis, Lin., Field Mint, 808.

Calamintha Acinos, Clairv., Basil Thyme. Fernhill Lane, 812.

Calamintha officinalis, Angl., Officinal Calamint. Avon Tyrrel, 814.

Ajuga reptans, Lin., Common Bugle, 822.

Ballota nigra, Lin., Black Horehound, 825.

Lamium album, Lin., White Dead Nettle, 828.

Lamium amplexicaule, Lin., Henbit, 830.

Lamium purpureum, Lin., Red Henbit, 831.

Galeopsis Tetrahit, Lin., Common Hemp Nettle, 834.

Stachys palustris, Lin., Marsh Woundwort, 837.

Stachys sylvatica, Lin., Hedge Woundwort, 838.

Stachys arvensis, Lin., Field Woundwort, 840.

Glechoma hederacea, Lin., Ground Ivy, 841.

Nepeta Cataria, Lin., Catmint. Near Bisterne, 842.

Marrubium vulgare, Lin., Common Horehound, 843.

Prunella vulgaris, Lin., All-heal, 844.

Scutellaria galericulata, Lin., Common Skull-cap. Chewton Glen, Beckton
Bunny, 845.

Myosotis palustris, With., Forget-me-not, 847.

Myosotis cæspitosa, Schultz, Marsh Mouse Ear, 849.

Myosotis arvensis, Hoff., Field Marsh Ear, 852.

Myosotis collina, Hoff., Dwarf Mouse Ear, 853.

Myosotis versicolor, Lehm., Yellow and Blue Mouse Ear, 854.

Lithospermum arvense, Lin., Field Gromwell, 856.

Symphytum officinale, Lin., Common Comfrey, 859.

Borago officinalis, Lin., Common Borage, 861.

Lycopsis arvensis, Lin., Ox-tongue, 862.

Cynoglossum officinale, Lin., Common Hound’s-tongue, 866.

Echium vulgare, Lin., Viper’s Bugloss, 869.

Primula veris, Lin., Cowslip, 880.

Lysimachia vulgaris, Lin., Yellow Loosestrife, 886.

Lysimachia nummularia, Lin., Moneywort, 888.

Anagallis arvensis, Lin., Poor Man’s Weather Glass, 890.

Plantago major, Lin., Greater Plantain, 901.

Plantago media, Lin., Hoary Plantain. “Beaulieu, on the clay,” Rev. H.
M. Wilkinson.

Plantago lanceolata, Lin., Rib Grass, 903.

Plantago Coronopus, Lin., Buckthorn Plantain, 905.

Chenopodium urbicum, Lin., Erect Goose-foot, 910.

Chenopodium rubrum, Lin., Red Goose-foot, 911.

Chenopodium album, Lin., White Goose-foot, 914.

Chenopodium Bonus-Henricus, Lin., Good King Henry, 917.

Atriplex hastata, Lin., Narrow-leaved Orache, 922.

Atriplex patula, Lin., Spreading Orache, 923.

Polygonum amphibium, Lin., Amphibious Persicaria, 933.

Polygonum lapathifolium, Lin., Pale-flowered Persicaria, 934.

Polygonum Persicaria, Lin., Spotted Persicaria, 935.

Polygonum Hydropiper, Lin., Biting Persicaria, 937.

Polygonum aviculare, Lin., Common Knot Grass, 938.

Polygonum Convolvulus, Lin., Black Bindweed. On the difference between
this and _C. dumetorum_, _see_ Dr. Bromfield in the _Phytologist_, vol.
iii. p. 765.

Rumex Hydrolapathum, Huds., Great Water Dock. The Avon, 943.

Rumex crispus, Lin., Curled Dock, 944.

Rumex obtusifolius, Lin., Blunt-leaved Dock, 947.

Rumex sanguineus, Lin., Blood-veined Dock, 948.

Rumex conglomeratus, Mur., Sharp-leaved Dock, 948.*

Rumex Acetosa, Lin., Common Sorrel, 951.

Rumex Acetosella, Lin., Sheep’s Sorrel, 952.

Euphorbia helioscopia, Lin., Sun Spurge, 962.

Euphorbia exigua, Lin., Dwarf Spurge. Near the coast, 971.

Euphorbia Peplus, Lin., Petty Spurge, 972.

Urtica urens, Lin., Annual Stinging Nettle, 978.

Urtica dioica, Lin., Perennial Stinging Nettle, 979.

Parietaria officinalis, Lin., Common Pellitory. Walls of Beaulieu Abbey,
982.

Humulus lupulus, Lin., Hop, 983.

Ulmus campestris, Sm., Common Elm. Rare in the Forest, 985a.

Salix cinerea, Lin., Grey Sallow, 1010.

Listera ovata, Br., Common Twayblade. Meadows round Christchurch, 1038.

Epipactis palustris, Sw., Marsh Helleborine. Chewton Glen. Rare. Mr.
Rake, however, has found it growing abundantly in the neighbourhood of
Fordingbridge, August, 1862, 1040.

Orchis Morio, Lin., Green-winged Meadow Orchis, 1045.

Orchis mascula, Lin., Early Purple Orchis, 1046.

Orchis maculata, Lin., Spotted Palmate Orchis, 1053.

Iris Pseudacorus, Lin., Flag Water Iris, 1067.

Galanthus nivalis, Lin., Common Snowdrop. “Bisterne, apparently wild,
though it has, doubtless, at some time or another, been planted,” Rev.
H. M. Wilkinson, 1074.

Allium vineale, Lin., Common Garlic, 1083.

Ornithogalum umbellatum, Lin., Common Star of Bethlehem. “Bisterne. Not
truly wild,” Rev. H. M. Wilkinson, 1090.

Tamus communis, Lin., Black Bryony, 1104.

Anacharis Alsinastrum, Bab., Chickweed-like American Weed. R. Stevens,
Esq., M.D., found this straggler, “July 23rd, 1862, at Knapp Mill, in a
ditch leading out of the Avon,” 1107.*

Alisma Plantago, Lin., Greater Water Plantain, 1109.

Sagittaria sagittifolia, Lin., Arrow Head. The Avon, 1113.

Butomus umbellatus, Lin., Flowering Rush. The Avon, 1114.

Triglochin palustre, Lin., Marsh Arrow Grass. Banks of the Avon, 1116.

Potamogeton densus, Lin., Close-leaved Pond Weed, 1118.

Potamogeton crispus, Lin., Curled Pond-weed, 1124.

Potamogeton perfoliatus, Lin., Perfoliate Pond Weed, 1125.

Potamogeton lucens, Lin., Shining Pond Weed, 1126.

Potamogeton natans, Lin., Broad-leaved Pond Weed, 1132.

Zannichellia palustris, Lin., Horned Pond Weed, 1136.

Lemna minor, Lin., Lesser Duckweed, 1138.

Lemna polyrhiza, Lin., Greater Duckweed, 1140.

Lemna trisulca, Lin., Ivy-leaved Duckweed. The Avon, 1141.

Arum maculatum, Lin., Cuckoo-pint, 1142.

Sparganium simplex, Huds., Unbranched Bur-reed, 1145.

Sparganium ramosum, Huds., Branched Bur-reed. Found it, with Mr. Lees,
in ponds at Wootton, 1147.

Juncus conglomeratus, Lin., Common Rush, 1151.

Juncus effusus, Lin., Soft Rush, 1151.

Juncus glaucus, Sibth., Hard Rush, 1152.

Juncus acutiflorus, Ehrh., Sharp-flowered jointed Rush, 1156.

Juncus lamprocarpus, Ehrh., Shining-fruited jointed Rush, 1157.

Juncus supinus, Mœnch., Whorl-headed Rush, 1159.

Juncus compressus, Jacq., Round-fruited Rush, 1160.

Juncus bufonius, Lin., Toad Rush, 1162.

Luzula campestris, “Br.,” Field Wood Rush, 1172.

Scirpus lacustris, Lin., Bull Rush. The Avon, 1184.

Carex paniculata, Lin., Great Panicled Carex. “Chewton Glen,” Rev. H. M.
Wilkinson, 1224.

Carex vulgaris, Fries., Tufted Bog Carex, 1228.

Carex pallescens, Lin., Pale Carex, 1236.

Carex præcox, Jacq., Vernal Carex, 1251.

Carex pilulifera, Lin., Reed-headed Carex, 1252.

Leersia oryzoides, Sw., Leersia. “Bisterne and Sopley,” Rev. H. M.
Wilkinson; “Brockenhurst,” _Phytologist_, vol. iv. p. 754; 1262.*

Anthoxanthum odoratum, Lin., Sweet-scented Vernal Grass, 1271.

Phleum pratense, Lin., Meadow Timothy Grass, 1273.

Alopecurus pratensis, Lin., Meadow Fox-tail Grass. Rare in the Forest,
1278.

Alopecurus geniculatus, Lin., Floating Fox-tail Grass, 1279.

Alopecurus agrestis, Lin., Slender Fox-tail Grass, 1282.

Arundo Phragmites, Lin., Common Reed, 1294.

Arundo Epigejos, Lin., Wood Reed, 1296.

Avena flavescens, Lin., Yellow Oat Grass, 1311.

Arrhenatherum avenaceum, Beauvois, Oat-like Grass, 1312.

Holcus lanatus, Lin., Meadow Soft Grass, 1313.

Holcus mollis, Lin., Creeping Soft Grass, 1314.

Catabrosa aquatica, Presl., Water Whorl Grass, 1320.

Glyceria aquatica, Sm., Reed Meadow Grass, 1321.

Glyceria fluitans, Br., Floating Sweet Grass, 1322.

Poa annua, Lin., Annual Meadow Grass, 1328.

Poa pratensis, Lin., Smooth-stalked Meadow Grass, 1331.

Poa trivialis, Lin., Roughish Meadow Grass, 1332.

Briza media, Lin., Common Quaking Grass, 1335.

Briza minor, Lin., Small Quaking Grass. “Corn-fields round Marchwood,
perhaps introduced with the grain,” W. A. Bromfield, 1336.

Cynosurus cristatus, Lin., Crested Dog’s Tail Grass, 1337.

Dactylis glomerata, Lin., Rough Cock’s-foot Grass, 1339.

Festuca pratensis, Huds., Meadow Fescue Grass, 1347.

Festuca loliacea, Huds. “Common at Bisterne,” Rev. H. M. Wilkinson, 1347
b.

Bromus giganteus, Lin., Tall Fescue Grass, 1348.

Bromus sterilis, Lin., Barren Brome Grass, 1350.

Bromus secalinus, Lin., Smooth Rye Brome Grass, 1354.

Bromus mollis, Lin., Soft Brome Grass, 1356.

Bromus racemosus, Lin.(?) “Common at Bisterne,” Rev. H. M. Wilkinson,
1356 b.

Brachypodium sylvaticum, Beauv., Slender False Brome Grass, 1357.

Triticum caninum, Huds., Fibrous-rooted Wheat Grass, 1359.

Triticum repens, Lin., Creeping Wheat Grass, 1360.

Lolium perenne, Lin., Common Rye Grass, 1363.

Hordeum pratense, Huds., Meadow Barley, 1367

Hordeum murinum, Lin., Wall Barley, 1368.

Equisetum Telmateia, Ehrh., Great Horsetail, 1420.

Equisetum arvense, Lin., Field Horsetail, 1422.

Equisetum palustre, Lin., Marsh Horsetail, 1424.


The following additions to the list of Forest plants have been kindly
sent by H. C. Watson, Esq., all noticed by himself in August, 1861,
within three or four miles of Brockenhurst:—


Nasturtium amphibium, Br., Great Yellow Cress, 101.

Viola flavicornis, Sm., Dwarf Yellow-spurred Violet, 135 b.

Epilobium roseum, Schreb., Pale Smooth-leaved Willow Herb, 371.

Epilobium obscurum, Schreb. (For a description of this plant, see
_Phytologist_, new series, vol. ii. p. 19.) 373 b.

Euphrasia gracilis, Fr., 766 b.

Polygonum minus, Huds., Small Creeping Persicaria. (Bromfield in the
_Flora Vectensis_, p. 433, mentions it as growing in the Island.) 938.

Carex binervis, Sm., Green-ribbed Carex, 1239.

Bromus asper, Lin., Hairy Wood Brome Grass, 1349.


To these also may be added _Coronopus didyma_, mentioned by Bromfield
(_Phytologist_, vol. iii. p. 210) as found along the coast, but which
will, perhaps, be met inland.

    [Illustration: Gladiolus Illyricus.]




                             APPENDIX III.
             LIST OF THE BIRDS OF THE NEW FOREST DISTRICT.


The best plan is, perhaps, to arrange the birds in groups, and to give a
short analysis of each section, so that the reader may be able to see at
a glance the more characteristic as well as rarer species. We will first
of all take the Residents. In making out this list I have been
principally guided—with of course certain exceptions—by the rule of
admitting every bird whose nest has been found upon reliable evidence,
as we may be sure that for one nest which is discovered a dozen or more
remain undetected.


Peregrine Falcon. (_Falco peregrinus_, Gmel.) As this bird breeds so
near, both in the Isle of Wight and along the Dorsetshire coast, it may
be considered as a resident. From different lists before me, ranging
over several years, it appears to have been shot and trapped in the
Forest at all seasons.

Merlin. (_Falco æsalon_, Gmel.) _See_ Chapter XXII., pp. 266, 267.

Kestrel. (_Falco tinnunculus_, Lin.) Numerous.

Sparrow Hawk. (_Falco nisus_, Lin.) More abundant than even the kestrel,
especially in the southern part of the Forest.

Common Buzzard. (_Falco buteo_, Lin.) Breeds in nearly all the old
woods, but is becoming scarce. _See_ Chapter XXII., p. 265.

Marsh Harrier. (_Circus æruginosus_, Lin.) Rare.

Hen Harrier. (_Circus cyaneus_, Lin.) _See_ Chapter XXII., p. 268. This
bird has become much more numerous of late. No less than six or seven
pairs were, I am sorry to say, trapped last year.

Long-Eared Owl. (_Strix otus_, Lin.) Not unfrequent. I have found it
nesting round Mark Ash and Boldrewood. Mr. Rake tells me that Amberwood
is also a favourite breeding station.

Barn Owl. (_Strix flammea_, Lin.) Not so common as might be expected.

Tawny Owl. (_Strix aluco_, Lin.) The most common of the three. Very
often this bird may be seen during the day in the Forest mobbed by
thrushes and blackbirds, and taking refuge in some of the large
ivy-bushes.

Missel Thrush. (_Turdus viscivorus_, Lin.) Known throughout the Forest
as the “Bull thrush.”

Song Thrush. (_Turdus musicus_, Lin.)

Blackbird. (_Turdus merula_, Lin.)

Robin Redbreast. (_Sylvia rubecula_, Lath.)

Stonechat. (_Sylvia rubicula_, Lath.) Mr. Rake tells me that it breeds
rather plentifully round Ogdens and Frogham, about two miles from
Fordingbridge. I have also had the eggs brought me from Wootton.

Dartford Warbler. (_Sylvia provincialis_, Ks. and Bl.) Is sometimes very
common in the Forest, and is generally to be seen in company with the
whinchat. In some years, as in 1861, it is scarce. I have its nest, with
two eggs, in my collection, taken by Mr. Farren, on Lyndhurst Heath,
April 29th, 1862; but it is always difficult to find, as the bird
frequents, in the breeding season, the thickest part of the high furze.

Goldencrested Regulus. (_Regulus cristatus_, Koch.) Not uncommon. Known
throughout the Forest as “The thumb bird.”

Great Titmouse. (_Parus major_, Lin.)

Blue Titmouse. (_Parus cæruleus_, Lin.)

Cole Titmouse. (_Parus ater_, Lin.) Far more common than the next.

Marsh Titmouse. (_Parus palustris_, Lin.)

Long-tailed Titmouse. (_Parus caudatus_, Lin.) Known throughout the
Forest as the “Long-tailed caffin,” or “cavin.”

Pied Wagtail. (_Motacilla Yarrellii_, Gould.) Partially migratory.

Grey Wagtail. (_Motacilla boarula_, Lin.) After some hesitation, I have
decided to put this bird among the residents. Yarrell (vol. i., 434)
mentions it breeding near Fordingbridge, close to the upper boundary of
the Forest.

Meadow Pipit. (_Anthus pratensis_, Bechst.) The “Butty lark,” that is,
companion bird, of the New Forest; so called because it is often seen
pursuing the cuckoo, which the peasant takes to be a sign of attachment
instead of anger.

Rock Pipit. (_Anthus obscurus_, Keys and Bl.) Inhabits the muddy shores
of the south-eastern district.

Sky Lark. (_Alauda arvensis_, Lin.)

Wood Lark. (_Alauda arborea_, Lin.) Mr. Rake found its nest on Goreley
race-course, near Fordingbridge, on the 2nd of April, 1861, with three
eggs.

Common Bunting. (_Emberiza miliaria_, Lin.)

Blackheaded Bunting. (_Emberiza schœniclus_, Lin.)

Yellow Hammer. (_Emberiza citrinella_, Lin.)

Cirl Bunting. (_Emberiza cirlus_, Lin.) I have had its eggs brought to
me from the neighbourhood of Wootton; and Mr. Farren found a nest with
three eggs in 1861, close to the village of Brockenhurst.

Chaffinch. (_Fringilla cœlebs_, Lin.) The “Chink” of the New Forest.

House Sparrow. (_Fringilla domestica_, Lin.)

Greenfinch. (_Fringilla chloris_, Lin.)

Hawfinch. (_Fringilla coccothraustes_, Lin.) A few pair now and then
certainly remain in the Forest to breed, though I have never been
fortunate enough to obtain their eggs. Great quantities were killed at
Burley in the spring of 1858.

Goldfinch. (_Fringilla carduelis_, Lin.)

Bullfinch. (_Loxia pyrrhula_, Lin.) Always to be seen very busy in
November amongst the young buds just formed, in the cottage gardens near
the Forest.

Starling. (_Sturnus vulgaris_, Lin.)

Raven. (_Corvus corax_, Lin.) Becoming very scarce. _See_ Chapter XXII.,
pp. 269, 270.

Crow. (_Corvus corone_, Lin.)

Rook. (_Corvus frugilegus_, Lin.)

Jackdaw. (_Corvus monedula_, Lin.)

Jay. (_Corvus glandarius_, Lin.)

Green Woodpecker. (_Picus viridis_, Lin.) “The yaffingale” and
“woodnacker” of the Forest.

Spotted Woodpecker. (_Picus major_, Lin.) Both this and the next are
known throughout the Forest as the “wood-pie.”

Lesser-Spotted Woodpecker. (_Picus minor_, Lin.)

Creeper. (_Certhia familiaris_, Lin.) Builds in the holes of the old ash
and thorn trees. _See_, however, Chapter XXII., p. 271.

Wren. (_Troglodytes Europæus_, Cuv.)

Nuthatch. (_Sitta Europæa_, Lin.)

Kingfisher. (_Alcedo ispida_, Lin.) Not very common, yet it may now and
then be seen at Darrat’s stream, near Lyndhurst, the brook in the
Queen’s Bower Wood, and the Osmanby Ford river, near Wootton.

Ringdove. (_Columba palumbus_, Lin.)

Stockdove. (_Columba ænas_, Lin.) Numerous, building in the holes of the
old beech-trees.

Pheasant. (_Phasianus Colchicus_, Lin.)

Black Grouse. (_Tetrao tetrix_, Lin.) Feeds on the young shoots of
heather and larch, seeds of grass, blackberries and acorns, and I have
seen it repeatedly perching in the hawthorns for the sake of the
berries. The “heath poult” of the Forest.

Partridge. (_Perdix cinerea_, Lath.)

Lapwing. (_Vanellus cristatus_, Meyer.)

Heron. (_Ardea cinerea_, Lath.) _See_ Chapter XXII., pp. 273, 274. I
have known a pair lay, in one instance, at Boldrewood, as late as June
23rd.

Common Redshank. (_Totanus calidris_, Lin.) This bird is certainly a
resident throughout the year. I have repeatedly put it up during the
autumn in some of the swamps near Stoney Cross, more especially in the
evening, when it will hover round and round, just keeping overhead, not
unlike a pewit. Several nests are yearly taken. Last year Mr. Farren
found one near Burley, April 4th, with a single egg, and another, May
3rd, containing four, at Bishopsditch.

Woodcock. (_Scolopax rusticola_, Lin.) Breeds in great numbers in some
seasons.

Common Snipe. (_Scolopax gallinago_, Lin.) The greatest numbers occur in
December, though many remain to breed not only in the “bottoms” of the
Forest, but the meadows of the Avon. Mr. Rake informs me that a Sabine’s
snipe (_Scolopax Sabini_, Vigors), which is now generally regarded as
only a melanism of this species, was shot at Picket Post, Jan., 1859.
Another was shot not far from the borders of the Forest, at Heron Court,
1836.

Water Rail. (_Rallus aquaticus_, Lin.) Most common in the winter. Some
few, however, breed in the valley of the Osmanby Ford stream, where I
have seen a pair or two in the summer time.

Coot. (_Fulica atra_, Lin.) A straggler generally every year remains to
breed on the Avon.

Mute Swan. (_Cygnus olor_, Boie.) Large numbers belonging to Lord
Normanton’s swannery may be always seen on the Avon, near Fordingbridge
and Ibbesley.

Wild Duck. (_Anas boschas_, Lin.) Breeds, like the teal, in most of the
bottoms throughout the Forest, as also in the Avon. The fowlers round
Exbury say that the wigeon, too, stays to nest; but I do not know of any
authenticated case. Mr. Rake has observed the tufted duck as late in the
year as May.

Teal. (_Anas crecca_, Lin.)

Little Grebe. (_Podiceps minor_, Lath.) Known in the Forest as the
di-dapper. A few breed in the Boldre Water, and, perhaps, even in the
Osmanby Ford stream. Mr. Rake tells me that it breeds plentifully in the
Avon, between Fordingbridge and Downton.

Guillemot. (_Uria troile_, Lath.) Locally known as the “spratter.”

Razorbill. (_Alca torda_, Lin.)

Cormorant. (_Carbo cormoranus_, Meyer.) Locally known as the “Isle of
Wight parson.”

Shag. (_Carbo cristatus_, Tem.)

Herring Gull. (_Lotus argentatus_, Brün.) It is to be seen at all
seasons with the four birds above mentioned, breeding like them in the
Freshwater Cliffs of the Isle of Wight. The shag and the cormorant were
the commonest birds along the south-east coast of the Forest in Gilpin’s
time (vol. II. pp. 172, 302, third edition), but are now becoming rare;
and Mr. More, in his excellent account of the birds of the Isle of
Wight, doubts whether more than one or two pairs now annually breed in
the Island.


Thus the Forest possesses in all seventy-two residents. The common
buzzard, the merlin, the henharrier, the three owls, and as many
woodpeckers, with the nuthatch and the stockdove, well indicate its
woody and heathy character. Upon comparing this with Mr. More’s list of
the residents of the Isle of Wight, we find that the Forest possesses
fourteen more than that Island. The principal additions consist, as
might be expected, of the common buzzard, black-grouse, green and great
and lesser spotted woodpeckers, common snipe, and woodcock, although by
the way the last, to my knowledge, breeds in the Island, as also
probably the little grebe.

The summer visitors are arranged by the date of the arrival of the main
body, drawn partly from Mr. Rake’s and my own observations. In a few
cases, as a further criterion, I have given the dates of their nesting
spread over the last four years.


Chiffchaff. (_Sylvia rufa_, Lath.) Arrives about the middle and end of
March. Common.

Wheatear. (_Sylvia ænanthe_, Lath.) Follows very close after the
chiffchaff; but the bird is scarce.

Sandmartin. (_Hirundo riparia_, Lath.) In 1862, Mr. Rake saw some
specimens near Fordingbridge on March 15th, about a week earlier than
usual.

Martin. (_Hirundo urbica_, Lin.) Arrives with the sandmartin about the
end of March, though sometimes both are seen a little earlier.

Swallow. (_Hirundo rustica_, Lin.)

Wryneck. (_Yunx torquilla_, Lin.) Generally to be heard about the end of
March and beginning of April. Known in the Forest as the “Little Eten
bird;” and from its cry the “Weet bird”. Mr. Ruke both heard and saw one
as late as Dec. 5, 1861.

Redstart. (_Sylvia phœnicurus_, Lath.) Beginning of April.

Thicknee. (_Œdicnæmus crepitans_, Tem.) It is possible that some may
remain to breed.

Nightingale. (_Sylvia luscinia_, Lath.) About the middle of May their
nests are mostly found in the Forest.

Cuckoo. (_Cuculus canorus_, Lin.) May 26 and June 1 are the dates when I
have found its eggs placed, in one case, at Baishley, in a hedge
sparrow’s, and, in the other, on Beaulieu Common, in a titlark’s nest.

Blackcap. (_Sylvia atricapilla_, Lath.) Arrives about the beginning and
middle of April.

Ray’s Wagtail. (_Motacilla campestris_, Pall.) Known in the New Forest
as the “Barley bird,” as it appears about the time barley is sown.
Probably does not breed.

Grasshopper Warbler. (_Sylvia locustella_, Lath.) Breeds in the young
plantations, but is by no means common.

Sedge Warbler. (_Sylvia Phragmitis_, Bechst.) Very scarce.

Willow Wren. (_Sylvia trochilus_, Lath.) Many are to be seen about the
middle and end of April in the young enclosures, where I have frequently
caught the bird on its nest.

Wood Wren. (_Sylvia sibilatrix_, Bechst.) Its nests and eggs are
generally found about the same time as the willow wren’s.

Whitethroat. (_Sylvia cinerea_, Lath.) Common.

Lesser Whitethroat. (_Sylvia curruca_, Lath.) Not abundant.

Whinchat. (_Sylvia rubetra_, Lath.) Known throughout the Forest as the
“Furze Hacker.”

Tree Pipit. (_Anthus arboreus_, Bechst.) Common.

Reed Wren. (_Sylvia arundinacea_, Lath.) The five foregoing species come
much about the same time, namely, the end of April, but the reed wren is
excessively scarce in the Forest, and I have only once or twice heard
its note in the Beaulieu river. Mr. Hart assures me that it builds on
the banks of the Avon, but its nest has yet to be found.

Landrail. (_Gallinula crex_, Lath.) About the end of April or beginning
of May. A good many yearly build round Milton, and the south parts of
the Forest, and even in the interior, as at Fritham and Alum Green.

Common Sandpiper. (_Totanus hypoleucos_, Tem.) A pair now and then
remain to breed at Whitten pond, near Burley, and also at Ocknell.

Turtle Dove. (_Columba turtur_, Lin.) Not uncommon. Makes a slight
framework of heather for a nest, which it places in a furze bush or low
holly. Is extremely shy, and easily forsakes its eggs.

Swift. (_Cypselus apus_, Illig.)

Nightjar. (_Caprimulgus Europæus_, Lin.) Known throughout the Forest as
the “Night Hawk,” “Night Crow,” “Ground Hawk,” from its habits, and
manner of flying. I have received its eggs at all dates, from the middle
of May to the end of July.

Spotted Flycatcher. (_Muscicapa grisola_, Lin.) Arrives about the same
time as the three preceding, namely, the beginning of May.

Redbacked Shrike. (_Lanius collurio_, Lin.)

Hobby. (_Falco subbuteo_, Lath.) Generally breeds from the beginning to
the end of June. Mr. Farren, however, in 1861, found a nest containing
three eggs so early as May 28th. See Chapter XXII. p. 261.

Honey Buzzard. (_Falco apivorus_, Lin.) Never arrives before the end of
May. See Chapter xxii. pp. 262-265.

Puffin. (_Mormon fratercula_, Tem.) Comes to the Barton cliffs from the
Isle of Wight, where it breeds.


Here, as before, the list clearly indicates the nature of the country.
The wheatear proclaims the down-like spaces on the tops of the hills,
whilst the hobby and the honey-buzzard tell of the vast extent of woods.
In the following division the winter birds speak, instead, of the
morasses and bogs, and the river estuaries and mudbanks, which surround
the Forest district.


Shorteared Owl. (_Strix brachyotus_, Gmel.) Not uncommon. Mr. Cooper,
the Forest Keeper to whom I have before referred, tells me that in
winter and late in the autumn for twenty years past he has invariably
met specimens in heathy and marshy spots at Harvestslade between Burley
and Boldrewood. A specimen was killed in November, 1860, in Dibden
Bottom, by L. H. Cumberbatch, Esq.

Fieldfare. (_Turdus pilaris_, Lin.) Large numbers frequent the Forest,
where it is known as the “blacktail.” It especially frequents the
hawthorn, and seldom approaches the hollies till the berries of the
former are all eaten.

Siskin. (_Fingilla spinus_, Lin.) Now and then taken by the
birdcatchers.

Lesser Redpole. (_Fingilla linaria_, Lin.) I should not be surprised if
this was discovered to breed in the Forest, as so many pair are seen
late in the spring.

Crossbill. (_Loxia curvirostra_, Lin.) Not uncommon. In Dec., 1861, a
large flock frequented the plantations round Burley. A few pair are
sometimes to be seen in the summer, and Mr. Farren mentions a nest built
in a fir-tree in a garden near Lyndhurst, June, 1858, off which the
birds were shot, but unfortunately not preserved, though their identity
is beyond dispute.

Hooded Crow. (_Corvus cornix_, Lin.) Not unfrequent.

Golden Plover. (_Charadrius pluvialis_, Lin.)

Ringed Plover. (_Charadrius hiaticula_, Lin.) Known, with the dunlin, in
the neighbourhood of Christchurch and Lymington, as the “oxbird.”

Sanderling. (_Calidris arenaria_, Leach.) Not uncommon on the coast,
especially in Christchurch harbour.

Bittern. (_Ardea stellaris_, Lin.) Not a year passes without several
specimens being brought to the bird stuffers. Mr. Rake tells me that
five were killed close to Fordingbridge in the winter of 1858.

Curlew. (_Numenius arquata_, Lin.)

Green Sandpiper. (_Totanus ochropus_, Tem.) Rather common between
Lymington and Calshot Castle. Mr. Rake informs me that a pair were shot
at Hale, on the borders of the New Forest, April, 1858; and Mr. Hart
tells me that he has shot several in the summer in Stanpit Marsh. In
June, 1862, I saw several pair near Leap, so that it probably breeds on
the coast.

Jack Snipe. (_Scolopax gallinula_, Lin.) Mr. Cooper tells me that he has
known this bird lie so close that he has walked up to it and caught it
with his hat.

Knot. (_Tringa Canutus_, Lin.) Not uncommon during the spring at
Christchurch Harbour. Mr. Tanner has a specimen in his collection,
knocked down with a stick by a boy.

Dunlin. (_Tringa variabilis_, Meyer.) By no means uncommon. See Ringed
Plover.

Grey-lag Goose. (_Anser ferus_, Steph.)

Bean Goose. (_Anser segetum_, Gmel.) A stray bird from the Solent
sometimes finds its way to Whitten and Ocknell ponds.

Brent Goose. (_Anser bernicla_, Illig.) Locally known as the
“Bran-goose.”

Hooper. (_Cygnus musicus_, Tem.)

Pintail Duck. (_Anas acuta_, Lin.)

Wigeon. (_Anas Penelope_, Lin.)

Common Scoter. (_Anas nigra_, Lin.)

Pochard. (_Anas ferina_, Lin.) Known along the coast as the “redhead”
and “ker.”

Scaup Duck. (_Anas marila_, Lin.)

Tufted Duck. (_Anas fuligula_, Lin.)

Red-breasted Merganser. (_Mergus serrator_, Lin.) Known to the fishermen
at Christchurch as the “razorbill.”

Great Crested Grebe. (_Podiceps cristatus_, Lath.) Appears every winter
in Christchurch harbour, and may be seen just cresting the waves, as
they break under the Barton Cliffs. Mr. Rake informs me that specimens
were killed at Breamore, November, 1855, and again, Jan., 1856.

Great Northern Diver. (_Colymbus glacialis_, Lin.)

Red-Throated Diver. (_Colymbus septentrionalis_, Lin.) Not so common as
the last.

Gannet. (_Sula Bassana_, Boie.)

Blackheaded Gull. (_Larus ridibundus_, Lin.)

Kittiwake. (_Larus tridactylus_, Lath.)

Common Gull. (_Larus canus_, Lin.)

Lesser Blackbacked Gull. (_Larus fuscus_, Lin.) Used formerly to breed
in the Freshwater Cliffs of the Isle of Wight.

Great Blackbacked Gull. (_Larus marinus_, Lin.)


The difficulty in the foregoing list has been to decide which species to
insert or omit. Many which I have left out, others, perhaps, would have
given, will be found placed amongst my last catalogue of stragglers. But
before we take these, let me mention two birds of double passage which
visit the Forest.


Ring-ousel. (_Turdus torquatus_, Lin.) A few appear in the spring, but
the greater body in the autumn, when they frequent the yews and mountain
ashes, being especially fond of the sweet berries of the former. They
will hide and skulk, much as a blackbird does, in the furze and
brambles, and old thick hedges on the borders of the Forest. Mr. Rake
sends me the following interesting note: “An intelligent working man,
somewhat, too, of an ornithologist, told me that a few years since he
took its nest with four or five eggs, near Ringwood, having a distinct
view of the bird as she left the nest.”

The Dotterel. (_Charadrius morinellus_, Lin.) Little flocks of them may
be seen in the Forest in April, and again in the autumn; but they stay
only for a few days.


These are the only two birds which I can satisfactorily class as being
truly of double passage. The common sandpiper remains to breed, whilst
the grey plover and the whimbrel are killed in the depth of winter. The
common redshank, which is generally placed in this division, remains all
the year, and the greenshank is seen in the summer, whilst the
bar-tailed godwit appears too seldom to admit of being classified in
this section. We will therefore go on to the next list, which includes
all those birds that cannot be arranged in the foregoing divisions, with
the rare stragglers which are driven here by accident, or only appear at
uncertain intervals.


Golden Eagle. (_Falco chrysaëtos_, Lin.) The last seen was killed,
according to Mr. Hart, about twenty years ago, at the mouth of
Christchurch harbour.

Spotted Eagle. (_Falco nævius_, Gmel.) A fine male specimen was shot,
Dec. 28th, 1861, by a keeper of Lord Normanton’s, in the plantations
near Somerley. The bird had been noticed for some days previously
hovering over the Forest. Mr. Rake, who saw it in the flesh, tells me
that the wings measured six feet from tip to tip, and its weight was
exactly eight pounds.

White-tailed Eagle. (_Falco albicilla_, Gmel.) _See_ Chapter XXII., p.
260.

Osprey. (_Falco haliæëtus_, Lin.) Might almost be classed as a regular
visitor in the autumn along the coast.

Goshawk. (_Falco palumbarius_, Lin.) Sometimes a stray bird is killed.

Kite. (_Falco milvus_, Lin.) Very scarce. Mr. Farren, however, in April,
1861, was lucky enough to see a solitary bird; and another, as L. H.
Cumberbatch, Esq., informs me, was trapped at New Park, about six years
ago, in the winter.

Rough-legged Buzzard. (_Falco lagopus_, Brün.) Mr. Rake informs me that
a specimen was trapped near Fordingbridge, in the summer of 1857. It is,
however, more generally noticed later in the year.

Little Owl. (_Strix passerina_, Lath.) When Mr. Farren first mentioned
this bird as breeding in the Forest, I was somewhat incredulous.
Subsequent inquiries, however, have left no doubt on my mind that the
bird is sometimes seen, though mistaken for a hawk. Mr. Farren, as far
back as 1859, found two eggs in a hole of an oak, which seem to have
been those of this bird; and in 1862 I received information of a hawk
laying white eggs in a hollow tree, but which were unfortunately broken.
I hope, however, some day to be able to give more satisfactory
information on the subject.

Ash-coloured Harrier. (_Falco cineraceus_, Mont.) Mr. Hart has, during
the last twenty years, received three or four specimens to stuff—one in
the winter of 1861. Mr. Farren saw a male bird, April, 1861.

Great Grey Shrike. (_Lanius excubitor_, Lin.) A straggler is now and
then killed by the Forest keepers.

Woodchat Shrike. (_Lanius rufus_, Briss.) As some pairs are sometimes to
be seen in the summer, I should not be surprised to hear of its
breeding, more especially as Mr. Bond has obtained its eggs in the Isle
of Wight.

Pied Flycatcher. (_Muscicapa atricapilla_, Lin.) A specimen was shot by
the late Mr. Toomer, Forest keeper, June, 1857; but I cannot learn
whether male or female.

White’s Thrush. (_Turdus Whitei_, Eyton.) Two specimens have been
obtained; one in the actual Forest shot by a Forest keeper, and which
passed into Mr. Bigge’s collection; and the other, not far from its
borders at Heron Court, by Lord Malmesbury, and which is figured in
Yarrell, vol. i., p. 202. For the best account of this bird see Mr.
Tomes’ description in the _Ibis_, vol. i., number iv., p. 379, of a
specimen killed in Warwickshire.

Golden Oriole. (_Oriolus galbula_, Lin.) A specimen was killed in the
Forest by one of the keepers, some fifteen years ago.

Black Redstart. (_Sylvia tithys_, Scop.) I am almost inclined to put
this, as Mr. Knox has done in his excellent _Ornithological Rambles_
(page 193), and Mr. More in his list of the birds of the Isle of Wight,
among the winter visitors, so many examples having occurred.

Great Sedge Warbler. (_Sylvia turdoides_, Meyer.) Mr. Farren, in June,
1858, found between Brockenhurst and Lyndhurst, a nest, containing five
eggs, which were supposed to be those of this bird, and were exhibited
at a meeting of the Linnæan Society. They are now, I believe, in the
collection of Mr. Seeley.

Firecrested Regulus. (_Regulus ignicapillus_, Nawm.) Sometimes seen in
the winter, but rare.

Crested Titmouse. (_Parus cristatus_, Lin.) Mr. Hart has once only
received a specimen, killed in Stanpit Marsh, near Christchurch. The
bird has also been killed in the Isle of Wight.

Bearded Titmouse. (_Parus biarmicus_, Lin.) I once received the eggs of
this bird, taken amongst the reeds of the Boldre stream,—the only
instance, I believe, of its breeding so far south. The bird has also
been seen near Christchurch, among the rushes close to the mouth of the
harbour.

Bohemian Waxwing. (_Bombycilla garrula_, Flem.) Mr. Hart tells me that a
specimen was shot about twelve years ago at Milton, on the south border
of the Forest.

Grayheaded Wagtail. (_Motacilla neglecta_, Gould.) Very rare; but has,
on Mr. Hart’s authority, been killed.

Short-toed Lark. (_Alauda brachydactyla_, Leisl.) A specimen, caught not
far from the Forest boundary, is now in the Rev. J. Pemberton Bartlett’s
aviary. See _The Zoologist_, March, 1862, p. 7930.

Snow Bunting. (_Emberiza nivalis_, Lin.) A few are occasionally seen
during hard winters.

Brambling. (_Fringilla montifringilla_, Lin.) Occurs like the former
bird only during severe frosts. Mr. Rake informs me that a pair were
killed near Fordingbridge, in February, 1853.

Tree Sparrow. (_Fringilla montana_, Lin.) Rare.

Mealy Redpole. (_Fringilla borealis_, Tem.) Sometimes caught by the
birdcatchers.

Parrot Crossbill. (_Loxia pityopsittacus_, Bechst.) Mr. Rake informs me
that one was killed at Breamore, Nov. 28th, 1855, out of a flock of a
dozen, and that a few days afterwards several more were killed.

Rose-coloured Pastor. (_Pastor roseus_, Tem.) A fine male was shot some
twenty years ago, by Mr. Hart’s brother, at Purewell.

Chough. (_Pyrrhocorax graculus_, Tem.) Becoming every year more scarce.
See Chapter XXII., pp. 274, 275.

Great Black Woodpecker. (_Picus martius_, Lin.) On its breeding habits
in Sweden, see Mr. Simpson’s account in the _Ibis_, vol. i., p. 264,
which agrees about the bird not making a fresh hole, as described at pp.
272, 273.

Hoopoe. (_Upupa epops_, Lin.) See Chapter XXII., p. 274.

White-bellied Swift. (_Cypselus alpinus_, Tem.) Mr. Hart informs me that
a specimen was killed about ten years ago over Christchurch harbour.

Rock Dove. (_Columba livia_, Briss.)

Red-legged Partridge. (_Perdix rubra_, Briss.) Introduced many years ago
by the late Mr. Baring, of Somerley; but very few, if any, are left.

Quail. (_Perdix coturnix_, Lath.) Sometimes to be seen amongst the
covies of partridges in the fields adjoining the Forest.

Great Bustard. (_Otis tarda_, Lin.) The last bustard, as mentioned in
Chapter II., p. 14, foot-note, was seen about twenty-five years ago by
one of the Forest keepers, near Eyeworth Wood; but though on horseback,
he could not overtake the bird, which ran across Butt’s Plain, aiding
itself by flapping its wings.

Little Bustard. (_Otis tetrax_, Lin.) A female was shot some years ago
near Heron Court; and is in Lord Malmesbury’s collection. _See_ Eyton’s
Rarer British Birds, p. 99.

Kildeer Plover. (_Charadrius vociferus_, Lin.) This rare straggler, the
only one ever known to have been seen in England, was shot, April, 1859,
in a potato field close to Knapp Mill, near Christchurch, by a man of
the name of Dowding, who was attracted to it by its peculiar flight,
such as is described by Audubon, as also by its monotonous cry, from
which its name is taken. The bird was brought in the flesh to Mr. Hart,
and is now in the collection of J. Tanner, Esq. The vignette at p. 318
well shows its difference from the common ring dotterel.

Little Ringed Plover. (_Charadrius minor_, Meyer.) Very rare. Mr. Hart
has only had one specimen, brought to him many years ago.

Grey Plover. (_Vanellus melanogaster_, Bechst.) Not uncommon during
severe winters in the harbours along the coast.

Turnstone. (_Strepsilas interpres_, Ill.) Not uncommon. My friend, Mr.
Tanner, has killed both male and female in summer plumage.

Oyster-catcher. (_Hæmatopus ostralegus_, Lin.) By no means uncommon.

Purple Heron. (_Ardea purpurea_, Lin.) One or two specimens have
occasionally been shot.

Little Egret. (_Ardea garzetta_, Lin.) Mr. Rake informs me that one was
said to have been shot some years ago at Hale, on the borders of the
Forest. Yarrell mentions another (vol. ii., p. 554) killed, in 1822, on
the Stour near Christchurch.

Squacco Heron. (_Ardea ralloides_, Scop.) A solitary specimen, shot a
few years ago at Christchurch Harbour, is now in Lord Malmesbury’s
collection. See Eyton’s _Rarer British Birds_, p. 100, where Dewhurst
must probably be a misprint for Christchurch.

Little Bittern. _(Ardea minuta_, Lin.) Mr. Hart, to whom I am under so
many obligations for notices of our stragglers, informs me that a fine
male bird was shot, April, 26, 1862, on the borders of the Forest, at
Heron Court, by one of Lord Malmesbury’s keepers.

Night Heron. (_Nycticorax ardeola_, Tem.) Mr. Hart has occasionally
received a specimen.

Glossy Ibis. (_Ibis falcinellus_, Tem.) Mr. Hart killed a young pair in
a meadow near Christchurch Harbour in September, 1859.

Whimbrel. (_Numenius phæopus_, Lath.) Not so very uncommon during the
late autumn and winter months along the harbours of the coast.

Spotted Redshank. (_Totanus fuscus_, Leisl.) On the authority of Mr.
Hart, who has killed it in Christchurch Harbour.

Avocet. (_Recurvirostra avocetta_, Lin.) Mr. Rake informs me of a
specimen shot at Exbury, Dec. 1858.

Blacktailed Godwit. (_Limosa melanura_, Leisl.) Mr. Hart received one in
the spring of 1860, and a fine specimen was killed by one of the Forest
keepers, some twenty years ago, on Ocknell pond. Hawker, who well knew
the sea-coast of the New Forest, mentions large flocks of “grey godwits”
off Keyhaven, May, 1842, but he does not distinguish between this and
the next species.

Bartailed Godwit. (_Limosa rufa_, Briss.) Mr. Hart had two pair brought
to him from the Mudeford Marsh, in the summer of 1861.

Ruff. (_Machetes pugnax_, Cuv.) A specimen is now and then killed.

Great Snipe. (_Scolopax major_, Gmel.) Generally one or two may be seen
in the Forest every winter. Mr. Cooper, the Forest keeper, to whom I
have previously referred, tells me that during the last twenty years he
has shot some six or seven specimens, and has seen as many more killed.

Sabine’s Snipe. (_Scolopax Sabini_, Vigors.) _See_ Common Snipe
(_Scolopax gallinago_), in the list of residents, p. 309.

Curlew Sandpiper. (_Tringa subarquata_, Tem.)

Little Stint. (_Tringa minuta_, Leisl.) Like the preceding, not so very
unfrequent along the coast.

Purple Sandpiper. (_Tringa maritima_, Brün.) Occasionally seen in
Christchurch Harbour.

Spotted Crake. (_Gallinula porzana_, Lath.) Has been seen both in winter
and summer; and I should not be surprised to hear of its breeding.

Baillon’s Crake. (_Gallinula Baillonii_, Tem.) A female was shot near
Linwood, in the Forest, Nov., 1860.

Grey Phalarope. (_Phalaropus platyrhyncus_, Tem.) Mr. Rake informs me
that several specimens were killed on the Avon in the severe winter of
1855-6, and again in 1860-1. Mr. Tanner has a pair in his collection,
shot in the mouth of Christchurch Harbour in summer plumage.

Whitefronted Goose. (_Anser albifrons_, Bechst.)

Bernacle Goose. (_Anser leucopsis_, Bechst.) From Mr. Hart I learn that
a pair were killed some years ago between Christchurch and Barton.

Ægyptian Goose. (_Anser Ægyptiacus_, Jenyns.) From Mr. Rake I learn that
a specimen was killed on the Avon, near Bicton Mill, February, 1855.

Bewick’s Swan. (_Cygnus minor_, Keys and Bl.)

Shoveller. (_Anas clypeata_, Lin.) Mr. Rake, in his manuscript notes,
which he so kindly put in my hands, mentions that this and the gadwall
and Bewick’s swan, were killed on the Avon during the hard winter of
1855.

Gadwall. (_Anas strepera_, Lin.)

Garganey. (_Anas querquedula_, Lin.)

Eider Duck. (_Anas mollissima_, Lin.)

Velvet Scoter. (_Anas fusca_, Lin.) Sometimes shot by the Mudeford
fishermen, but always outside the bar of the harbour.

Long-tailed Duck. (_Anas glacialis_, Lin.)

Golden Eye. (_Anas clangula_, Lin.)

Smew. (_Mergus albellus_, Lin.) Seen, like the two previous, during hard
winters on the Avon. Mr. Rake notes that one was killed at Breamore,
Nov., 1855; and Mr. Hart writes that he once saw a person kill two at
one shot in Christchurch Harbour.

Goosander. (_Mergus merganser_, Lin.) Rather rare. Mr. Rake, however,
informs me that one male and two or three females were killed near
Fordingbridge in the winter of 1855.

Red-necked Grebe. (_Podiceps ruficollis_, Lath.) Rather rare.

Sclavonian Grebe. (_Podiceps cornutus_, Lath.) Very rare. Mr. Hart has
never known an instance of one being killed, though he has received a
specimen or two from the Dorsetshire coast.

Eared Grebe. (_Podiceps auritus_, Lath.) Rather rare, but occasionally
killed by the Mudeford fishermen.

Black-throated Diver. (_Colymbus arcticus_, Lin.) Occurs pretty
plentifully during some winters along the coast.

Little Auk. (_Uria alle_, Tem.) Found sometimes along the coast after a
heavy storm.

Caspian Tern. (_Sterna Caspia_, Pall.) On the authority of Mr. Hart one
was shot, about ten years ago, in Christchurch Harbour.

Common Tern. (_Sterna hirundo_, Lin.) This, with the next, is sometimes,
after a heavy gale, picked up in an exhausted state. I saw one which had
been thus caught near Fordingbridge in September, 1861.

Artic Tern. (_Sterna arctica_, Flem.)

Lesser Tern. (_Sterna minuta_, Lin.) Seen during a hard winter.

Black Tern. (_Sterna nigra_, Briss.) A pair were, not long ago, shot by
Mr. Charles Reeks, near the Old Bridge, Christchurch.

Little Gull. (_Larus minutus_, Pall.) Mr. Rake informs me that a pair of
these rare birds were killed near Breamore, in November, 1855.

Glaucous Gull. (_Larus glaucus_, Brün.) A solitary specimen has, I
believe, once been shot near Christchurch, by the Hon. Grantley
Berkeley, in whose collection it is.

Common Skua. (_Lestris catarractes_, Ill.) Occasionally killed flying
round Christchurch Head.

Fork-tailed Petrel. (_Thalassidroma Leachii_, Tem.) Mr. Rake informs me
that a specimen was picked up dead, near Fordingbridge, November, 1859.

Stormy Petrel. (_Thalassidroma pelagica_, Vigors.) Frequently picked up
dead, or exhausted, along the coast, after severe weather, with the wind
blowing from the west.


Adopting Yarrell’s census, an analysis of these lists gives to the
Forest district 72 out of the 140 British residents, 31 out of our 63
summer visitors, 35 winter visitors, and of rarer birds and stragglers,
90; or altogether, including the two birds of double passage, 230
species out of the whole 354.

Since these lists were arranged, Mr. Rake sends me word, concerning the
reed wren, that in the winter of 1858, a nest, evidently built the
preceding summer, and exactly resembling that bird’s, was found in a
thick bed of reeds on the bank of the Avon, near Fordingbridge, but he
has never seen the birds or eggs from the neighbourhood.

With regard to the kildeer plover, I may add that several persons saw it
in the flesh, and that Mr. Tanner received it soon after it was mounted.
My only surprise is with Dr. Sclater (see the _Ibis_ vol. iv., No. xv.,
p. 277), that a bird with so large a range of flight should not before
this have been recorded as occurring in England.

The vignette is, with a slight alteration of position, taken from Mr.
Tanner’s specimen.

    [Illustration: The Kildeer Plover.]




                              APPENDIX IV.
                   THE LEPIDOPTERA OF THE NEW FOREST.


As, I am sorry to say, I am entirely ignorant of entomology, Mr. Baker,
who possesses one of the finest collections of Lepidoptera in the
district, has kindly compiled the following list. For the sake of space
the Tineina have been omitted. The arrangement followed is that of
Stainton, and the whole list has, to ensure the greatest accuracy, been
revised by F. Bond, Esq., F.Z.S. No attempt has been made to classify
the rarer and more common species, as both so much vary with the season.


                              RHOPALOCERA.

  GONOPTERYX
    Rhamni
  COLIAS
    Edusa
    Hyale
  APORIA
    Cratægi
  PIERIS
    Brassicæ
    Rapæ
    Napi
  ANTHOCHARIS
    Cardamines
  LEUCOPHASIA
    Sinapis
  ARGE
    Galathea
  LASIOMMATA
    Ægeria
    Megæra
  HIPPARCHIA
    Semele
    Janira
    Tithonus
    Hyperanthus
  CŒNONYMPHA
    Pamphilus
  LIMENITIS
    Sibylla
  APATURA
    Iris
  VANESSA
    Cardui
    Atalanta
    Io
    Antiopa
    Polychloros
    Urticæ
  ARGYNNIS
    Paphia
    Adippe
    Aglaia
    Selene
    Euphrosyne
  MELITÆA
    Artemis
  NEMEOBIUS
    Lucina
  THECLA
    Betulæ
    Quercus
    Rubi
  CHRYSOPHANUS
    Phlœas
  POLYOMMATUS
    Argiolus
    Alsus
    Alexis
    Ægon
    Agestis
  THYMELE
    Alveolus
  THANAOS
    Tages
  STEROPES
    Paniscus
  PAMPHILA
    Linea
    Sylvanus


                               SPHENGINA.

  PROCRIS
    Statices
  ANTHROCERA
    Trifolii
    Loniceræ
    Filipendulæ
  SMERINTHUS
    Ocellatus
    Populi
    Tiliæ
  ACHERONTIA
    Atropos
  SPHINX
    Convolvuli
    Ligustri
  DEILEPHILA
    Galii
  CHŒROCAMPA
    Elpenor
    Porcellus
  MACROGLOSSA
    Stellatarum
  SESIA
    Fuciformis
    Bombyliformis
  SPHECIA
    Bembeciformis
  TROCHILIUM
    Ichneumoniforme
    Cynipiforme
    Sphegiforme
    Tipuliforme
    Myopæforme


                               BOMBYCINA.

  HEPIALUS
    Hectus
    Lupulinus
    Humuli
    Sylvinus
  ZENZERA
    Æsculi
  COSSUS
    Ligniperda
  CERURA
    Furcula
    Vinula
  STAUROPUS
    Fagi
  NOTODONTA
    Dromedarius
  DRYMONIA
    Chaonia
    Dodonæa
  LEIOCAMPA
    Dictæa
    Dictæoides
  LOPHOPTERYX
    Camelina
  DILOBA
    Cæruleocephala
  PETASIA
    Cassinia
  PERIDEA
    Trepida
  CLOSTERA
    Reclusa
  PYGÆRA
    Bucephala
  PSILURA
    Monacha
  DASYCHIRA
    Fascelina
    Pudibunda
  DEMAS
    Coryli
  ORGYIA
    Antiqua
  STILPNOTIA
    Salicis
  PORTHESIA
    Auriflua
  MILTOCHRISTA
    Miniata
  LITHOSIA
    Aureola
    Helvola
    Stramineola
    Complana
    Complanula
    Griseola
  ŒNISTIS
    Quadra
  GNOPHRIA
    Rubricollis
  CYBOSIA
    Mesomella
  NUDARIA
    Mundana
    Senex
  EUTHEMONIA
    Russula
  ARCTIA
    Caja
    Villica
  NEMEOPHILA
    Plantaginis
  PHRAGMATOBIA
    Fuliginosa
  SPILOSOMA
    Menthastri
    Lubricipeda
  DIAPHORA
    Mendica
  CALLIMORPHA
    Jacobææ
  EULEPIA
    Cribrum
  DEIOPEIA
    Pulchella
  LASIOCAMPA
    Rubi
    Trifolii
    Quercus
  ERIOGASTER
    Lanestris
  PŒCILOCAMPA
    Populi
  TRICHIURA
    Cratægi
  CLISIOCAMPA
    Neustria
  ODONESTIS
    Potatoria
  GASTROPACHA
    Quercifolia
  SATURNIA
    Pavonia-minor
  CILIX
    Spinula
  PLATYPTERYX
    Lacertinaria
  DREPANA
    Falcataria
    Hamula
    Unguicula
  HETEROGENEA
    Asellus
  LIMACODES
    Testudo


                              _PSYCHIDÆ._

  PSYCHE
    Nigricans
    Opacella
  FUMEA
    Radiella


                               NOCTUINA.

  THYATIRA
    Derasa
    Batis
  CYMATOPHORA
    Duplaris
    Diluta
    Flavicornis
    Ridens
  BRYOPHILA
    Perla
  DIPHTHERA
    Orion
  ACRONYCTA
    Tridens
    Psi
    Leporina
    Megacephala
    Alni
    Ligustri
    Rumicis
  LEUCANIA
    Conigera
    Turca
    Lithargyria
    Pudorina
    Comma
    Impura
    Pallens
  NONAGRIA
    Despecta
    Fulva
    Typhæ
  GORTYNA
    Flavago
  HYDRŒCIA
    Nictitans
    Micacea
  AXYLIA
    Putris
  XYLOPHASIA
    Rurea
    Lithoxylea
    Polyodon
    Hepatica
  DIPTERYGIA
    Pinastri
  NEURIA
    Saponariæ
  HELIOPHOBUS
    Popularis
  CHARÆAS
    Graminis
  CERIGO
    Cytherea
  LUPERINA
    Testacea
    Cæspitis
  MAMESTRA
    Anceps
    Furva
    Brassicæ
    Persicariæ
  APAMEA
    Basilinea
    Gemina
    Oculea
  MIANA
    Strigilis
    Fasciuncula
    Literosa
    Furuncula
    Arcuosa
  CELÆNA
    Haworthii
  GRAMMESIA
    Trilinea
  ACOSMETIA
    Caliginosa
  CARADRINA
    Morpheus
    Alsines
    Blanda
    Cubicularis
  RUSINA
    Tenebrosa
  AGROTIS
    Puta
    Suffusa
    Saucia
    Segetum
    Exclamationis
    Nigricans
    Tritici
    Aquilina
    Porphyrea
    Ravida
  TRYPHÆNA
    Ianthina
    Fimbria
    Interjecta
    Subsequa
    Orbona
    Pronuba
  NOCTUA
    Glareosa
    Augur
    Plecta
    C-nigrum
    Triangulum
    Brunnea
    Festiva
    Bella
    Umbrosa
    Baja
    Neglecta
    Xanthographa
  TRACHEA
    Piniperda
  TÆNIOCAMPA
    Gothica
    Rubricosa
    Instabilis
    Stabilis
    Gracilis
    Miniosa
    Munda
    Cruda
  ORTHOSIA
    Upsilon
    Lota
    Macilenta
  ANCHOCELIS
    Rufina
    Pistacina
    Lunosa
    Litura
  CERASTIS
    Vaccinii
    Spadicea
  SCOPELOSOMA
    Satellitia
  DASYCAMPA
    Rubiginea
  OPORINA
    Croceago
  XANTHIA
    Citrago
    Cerago
    Silago
    Aurago
    Gilvago
    Ferruginea
  TETHEA
    Subtusa
    Retusa
  DICYCLA
    Oo
  COSMIA
    Trapezina
    Pyralina
    Diffinis
    Affinis
  EREMOBIA
    Ochroleuca
  DIANTHŒCIA
    Carpophaga
    Capsincola
    Cucubali
  HECATERA
    Serena
  POLIA
    Flavicincta
  EPUNDA
    Lutulenta
    Nigra
    Viminalis
  MISELIA
    Oxyacanthæ
  AGRIOPIS
    Aprilina
  PHLOGOPHORA
    Meticulosa
  EUPLEXIA
    Lucipara
  APLECTA
    Herbida
    Nebulosa
    Advena
  HADENA
    Adusta
    Protea
    Dentina
    Chenopodii
    Suasa
    Oleracea
    Pisi
    Thalassina
    Contigua
    Genistæ
  XYLOCAMPA
    Lithorhiza
  CALOCAMPA
    Vetusta
    Exoleta
  XYLINA
    Rhizolitha
    Semibrunnea
    Petrificata
  CUCULLIA
    Chamomillæ
    Umbratica
  HELIOTHIS
    Marginata
    Dipsacea
  ANARTA
    Myrtilli
  HELIODES
    Arbuti
  ACONTIA
    Luctuosa
  ERASTRIA
    Fuscula
  HYDRELIA
    Uncana
  BREPHOS
    Parthenias
  HABROSTOLA
    Urticæ
    Triplasia
  PLUSIA
    Chrysitis
    Iota
    Pulchrina
    Gamma
  GONOPTERA
    Libatrix
  AMPHIPYRA
    Pyramidea
    Tragopogonis
  MANIA
    Typica
    Maura
  TOXOCAMPA
    Pastinum
  STILBIA
    Anomala
  CATOCALA
    Nupta
    Promissa
    Sponsa
  EUCLIDIA
    Mi
    Glyphica
  PHYTOMETRA
    Ænea


                              GEOMETRINA.

  URAPTERYX
    Sambucaria
  EPIONE
    Apiciaria
    Advenaria
  RUMIA
    Cratægata
  VENILIA
    Maculata
  ANGERONA
    Prunaria
  METROCAMPA
    Margaritaria
  ELLOPIA
    Fasciaria
  URYMENE
    Dolabraria
  ERICALLIA
    Syringaria
  SELENIA
    Illunaria
    Lunaria
    Illustraria
  ODONTOPERA
    Bidentata
  CROCALLIS
    Elinguaria
  ENNOMOS
    Tiliaria
    Fuscantaria
    Erosaria
    Angularia
  HIMERA
    Pennaria
  PHIGALIA
    Pilosaria
  NYSSIA
    Hispidaria
  AMPHIDASYS
    Prodromaria
    Betularia
  HEMEROPHILA
    Abruptaria
  CLEORA
    Viduaria
    Glabraria
    Lichenaria
  BOARMIA
    Repandaria
    Rhomboidaria
    Abietaria
    Cinctaria
    Roboraria
    Consortaria
  TEPHROSIA
    Consonaria
    Crepuscularia
    Extersaria
    Punctularia
  GNOPHOS
    Obscurata
    Pullata
  PSEUDOTERPNA
    Cytisaria
  GEOMETRA
    Papilionaria
  MEMORIA
    Viridata
  IODIS
    Lactearia
  PHORODESMA
    Bajularia
  HEMITHEA
    Thymiaria
  EPHYRA
    Poraria
    Punctaria
    Trilinearia
    Omicronaria
    Orbicularia
    Pendularia
  HYRIA
    Auroraria
  ASTHENA
    Luteata
    Candidata
    Sylvata
  EUPISTERIA
    Heparata
  ACIDALIA
    Scutulata
    Bisetata
    Trigeminata
    Osseata
    Virgularia
    Ornata
    Incanaria
    Marginepunctata
    Subsericeata
    Immutata
    Remutata
    Imitaria
    Aversata
    Emarginata
  BRADYEPETES
    Amataria
  CABERA
    Pusaria
    Exanthemaria
  CORYCIA
    Temerata
    Taminata
  AVENTIA
    Flexula
  MACARIA
    Alternata
    Notata
    Liturata
  HALIA
    Vauaria
  STRENIA
    Clathrata
  LOZOGRAMMA
    Petraria
  NUMERIA
    Pulveraria
  MÆSIA
    Belgiaria
  SELIDOSEMA
    Plumaria
  FIDONIA
    Atomaria
    Piniaria
  MINOA
    Euphorbiata
  ASPILATES
    Strigillaria
  ABRAXAS
    Grossulariata
  LIGDIA
    Adustata
  LOMASPILIS
    Marginata
  PACHYCNEMIA
    Hippocastanaria
  HYBERNIA
    Rupicapraria
    Lencophæaria
    Aurantiaria
    Progemmaria
    Defoliaria
  ANISOPTERYX
    Æscularia
  CHEIMATOBIA
    Brumata
  OPORABIA
    Dilutata
  LARENTIA
    Didymata
    Multistrigaria
    Pectinitaria
  EMMELESIA
    Affinitata
    Alchemillata
    Albulata
    Decolorata
    Unifasciata
  EUPITHECIA
    Venosata
    Linariata
    Pulchellata
    Centaureata
    Succenturiata
    Subumbrata
    Haworthiata
    Pygmæata
    Satyrata
    Castigata
    Irriguata
    Denotata
    Innotata
    Indigata
    Nanata
    Subnotata
    Vulgata
    Expallidata
    Absinthiata
    Minutata
    Assimilata
    Tenuiata
    Dodoneata
    Abbreviata
    Exiguata
    Pumilata
    Coronata
    Rectangulata
  LOBOPHORA
    Sexalata
    Hexapterata
    Viretata
    Lobulata
  THERA
    Variata, _Haw._
    Firmaria
  HYPSIPETES
    Impluviata
    Elutata
  MELANTHIA
    Rubiginata
    Ocellata
    Albicillata
  MELANIPPE
    Unangulata
    Rivata
    Subtristrata
    Montanata
    Fluctuata
  ANTICLEA
    Rubidata
    Badiata
    Derivata
  COREMIA
    Propugnata
    Ferrugata
  CAMPTOGRAMMA
    Bilineata
    Gemmata
  SCOTOSIA
    Dubitata
    Certata
    Undulata
  CIDARIA
    Psittacata
    Miata
    Picata
    Corylata
    Russata
    Immanata
    Suffumata
    Silaceata
    Prunata
    Testata
    Fulvata
    Pyraliata
    Dotata
  EUBOLIA
    Cervinaria
    Mensuraria
    Palumbaria
    Bipunctaria
    Lineolata
  ANAITIS
    Plagiata
  ODEZIA
    Chærophyllata


                              PYRALIDINA.


                              _DELTOIDES._

  HYPENA
    Proboscidalis
    Rostralis
  HYPENODES
    Costæstrigalis
  RIVULA
    Sericcalis
  HERMINIA
    Barbalis
    Tarsipennalis
    Nemoralis


                              _PYRALITES._

  PYRALIS
    Costalis
    Farinalis
    Glaucinalis
  AGLOSSA
    Pinguinalis
  CLEDEOBIA
    Augustalis
  PYRAUSTA
    Punicealis
    Purpuralis
    Ostrinalis
  HERBULA
    Cæspitalis
  ENNYCHIA
    Cingulalis
    Octomaculalis
  ENDOTRICHA
    Flammealis
  DIASEMIA
    Literalis
  CATACLYSTA
    Lemnalis
  PARAPONY
    Stratiotalis
  HYDROCAMPA
    Nymphæalis
    Stagnalis
  BOTYS
    Pandalis
    Verticalis
    Lancealis
    Fuscalis
    Urticalis
  EBULEA
    Crocealis
    Sambucalis
  PIONEA
    Forficalis
  SPILODES
    Sticticalis
    Cinetalis
  SCOPULA
    Olivalis
    Prunalis
    Ferrugalis
  STENOPTERYX
    Hybridalis
  NOLA
    Cucullatella
    Cristulalis
    Strigula
  SYMAETHIS
    Fabriciana
  CHOREUTES
    Scintillulana


                              _CRAMBITES._

  EUDOREA
    Cembræ
    Ambigualis
    Pyralella
    Cratægella
    Frequentella
    Resinea
    Pallida
  APHOMIA
    Colonella
  ACHROIA
    Grisella
  EPHESTIA
    Elutella
  HOMÆOSOMA
    Nebulella
  ACROBASIS
    Consociella
    Tumidella
  CRYPTOBLAB
    Bistriga
  MYELOIS
    Suavella
    Advenella
    Marmorea
  NEPHOPTERY
    Abietella
    Roborella
  PEMPELIA
    Dilutella
    Formosa
    Palumbella
  CRAMBUS
    Cerussellus
    Chrysonychellus
    Falsellus
    Pratellus
    Dumetellus
    Sylvellus
    Hamellus
    Pascuellus
    Uliginosellus
    Hortuellus
    Culmellus
    Inquinatellus
    Geniculeus
    Contaminellus
    Tristellus
    Pinetellus
    Latistrius
    Perlellus
  CHILO
    Forficellus
    Phragmitellus


                              TORTRICINA.

  CHLOEPHORA
    Prasinana
    Quercana
  SAROTHRIPA
    Revayana
  HYPERMECIA
    Augustana
  EULIA
    Ministrana
  BRACHYTÆNIA
    Semifasciana
  ANTITHESIA
    Betuletana
    Ochroleucana
    Cynosbatella
    Pruniana
    Marginana
    Similana
    Sellana
  PENTHINA
    Salicella
  SIDERIA
    Achatana
  DICHELIA
    Grotiana
  CLEPSIS
    Rusticana
  TORTRIX
    Icterana
    Viburnana
    Forsterana
    Heparana
    Ribeana
    Cinnamomeana
    Corylana
  LOZOTÆNIA
    Sorbiana
    Musculana
    Costana
    Unifasciana
    Fulvana
    Roborana
    Xylosteana
    Rosana
  DITULA
    Angustiorana
  PTYCHOLOMA
    Lecheana
  NOTOCELIA
    Uddmanniana
  PARDIA
    Tripunctana
  SPILONOTA
    Roborana
    Trimaculana
    Amœnana
  LITHOGRAPHIA
    Campoliliana
    Nisella
    Penkleriana
  PHLÆODES
    Tetraquetrana
    Immundana
  PŒDISCA
    Piceana
    Solandriana
    Opthalmicana (?)
  CATOPTRIA
    Scopoliana
    Hohenwarthiana
  HALONOTA
    Bimaculana
    Cirsiana
    Scutulana
    Brunnichiana
  DICRORAMPHA
    Petiverella
    Sequana
    Politana
    Plumbagana
    Consortana
  COCCYX
    Hercyniana
  CAPUA
    Ochraceana
  CARTELLA
    Bilunana
  HEDYA
    Paykulliana
    Ocellana
    Dealbana
    Trimaculana
  STEGANOPTYCHA
    Nævana
  ANCHYLOPERA
    Mitterpacheriana
    Subarcuana
    Biarcuana
    Uncana
    Lundana
    Derasana
    Comptana
    Siculana
  BACTRA
    Lanceolana
    Furfurana
  ARGYROTOXA
    Conwayana
  DICTYOPTERYX
    Contaminana
    Lœflingiana
  CRŒSIA
    Bergmanniana
    Forskaleana
    Holmiana
  HEMEROSIA
    Rheediella
  OXYGRAPHA
    Literana
  PERONEA
    Schalleriana
    Comparana
    Tristana
    Rufana
    Favillaceana
    Hastiana
    Cristana
    Variegana
  PARAMESIA
    Aspersana
    Ferrugana
  TERAS
    Caudana
  PŒCILOCHROMA
    Profundana
    Corticana
  ANISOTÆNIA
    Ulmana
  ROXANA
    Arcuella
  SEMASIA
    Populana
    Spiniana
    Wœberiana
    Janthinana
  EUCELIS
    Aurana
  EPHIPPIPHORA
    Trauniana
    Regiana
    Argyrana
  STIGMONOTA
    Nitidana
    Wierana
    Compositella
    Perlepidana
  ASTHENIA
    Splendidulana
  RETINIA
    Buoliana
    Pinivorana
    Sylvestrana
  ENDOPISA
    Ulicana
    Germarana
    Puncticostana
  CARPOCAPSA
    Juliana
    Splendana
    Pomonana
  GRAPHOLITHA
    Albensana
    Hypericana
    Modestana
  SPHALEROPTERA
    Ictericana
  CNEPHASIA
    Hybridana
    Subjectana
    Passivana
    Nubilana
  EUCHROMIA
    Ericetana
    Striana
  SERICORIS
    Conchana
    Lacunana
    Urticana
    Cæspitana
    Politana
    Latifasciana
    Bifasciana
  MIXODIA
    Schulziana
  LOBESIA
    Reliquana
  PHTHEOCROA
    Rugosana
  ERIOPSELA
    Fractifasciana
  CHROSIS
    Tesserana
  ARGYROLEPIA
    Æncana (?)
    Baumanniana
    Badiana
  CALOSETIA
    Nigromaculana
  EUPŒCILIA
    Maculosana
    Carduana
    Nana
    Angustana
    Griseana
    Roseana
    Subroseana
    Ruficiliana
  LOZOPERA
    Francillana
    Stramineana
  XANTHOSETIA
    Hamana
    Zœgana
  TORTRICODES
    Hyemana


                             PTEROPHORINA.

  PTEROPHORUS
    Trigonodactylus
    Acanthodactylus
    Punctidactylus
    Bipunctidactylus
    Fuscus
    Pterodactylus
    Tephradactylus
    Galactodactylus
    Tetradactylus
    Pentadactylus
  ALUCITA
    Polydactyla


                              Postscript.

As a further addition to my list of plants, I have received the
following from A. G. More, Esq., F.L.S.—those without localities being
communicated to him by the late Mr. Borrer as found in the Forest:—


Wahlenbergia hederacea, Reich., Ivy-leaved Bell Flower. Near Lyndhurst,
272.

Sium latifolium, Lin., Broad-leaved Water Parsnep. _See_ Bromfield, in
the _Phytologist_, vol. iii. p. 403; 464.

Trifolium medium, Lin., _Zigzag_ Trefoil. Near Lyndhurst, 683.

Utricularia intermedia, Hayne, Intermediate Bladderwort, 876.

Carex limosa, Lin., Green-and-Gold Carex, 1244.


A word or two may here be added concerning the only true species of
cicada (_Cicada hæmatoides_) which we have in England, and which has
hitherto been only found in the New Forest. Mr. Farren, in June, 1858,
was fortunate enough to take a specimen sitting on the stem of the
common brake, being attracted to it by its peculiar monotonous humming
noise. On the second of June, 1862, he captured two others, which rose
from the fern, with their curious zigzag flight, and at the same time
heard two more.

Mr. Farren, to whom I am indebted for the above information, has kindly
sent me the following drawing, made by his brother, from one of the
living specimens captured in the Forest.

    [Illustration: The Cicada.]




                                 INDEX.


                                   A
  Abbacies, held by William II., at the time of his death, 104
          (_foot-note_).
  Abbey, Beaulieu, _see_ Beaulieu.
  Abbey Walls, the, or St. Leonard’s Grange, 69.
  Acquitaine, Eleanor of, buried at Beaulieu Abbey, 67.
  Adages, in the Forest, 180;
      see also Proverbs.
  Adder’s-tongue Fern, 256.
  Alanus de Insulis, on the death of William II., 102.
  Alexander I., Pope, bull from, 71 (_foot-note_.)
  Amberwood Corner, barrows near, 208.
  Ambrosius Aurelianus, defeated by Cerdic, 118;
      his name preserved in the word Amesbury, 119;
      in Ambrose Hole and Ampress Farm, 198.
  Ancestry, our, 2.
  Anderwood Enclosure, Roman and Romano-British potteries at, 215.
  America, Old-English character of its provincialisms, 172.
  Anselm, foretold by the Abbot of Cluny of the death of William
          II., 101.
  Anses Wood, mound near, 209, 210.
  “Apostles, the Twelve,” 83.
  Assart lands, granted by James I., 43.
  Ash, Mark-, Wood, 17.
  Ashley Rails, Roman and Romano-British potteries at, 221.
  Attachment, Court of, 87.
  Augustine, St., injunctions to his canons, 69.
  Aurelianus, Ambrosius, _see_ Ambrosius.
  Avon, the, at Castle Hill, 118;
      at Ibbesley, 120;
      at Winkton, 128;
      eel peculiar to, 125, 126.
  Avon, Valley of the, 116;
      the Flora of, 253.
  Avon Tyrrel, 126.


                                    B
  Babington, Churchill, synopsis of the birds of Charnwood Forest
          by, 275.
  Baddesley, Preceptory of the Knights Templar formerly at, 156.
  Balm, Bastard (_Melittis Melyssophyllum_), in the Forest, 256.
  Bandits, troop of, at Lymington, 169.
  Bargery Farm, 71.
  Barn, or _spicarium_, of Beaulieu Abbey, 69, 70.
  Barney Barns Hill, 197 (_foot-note_), 210.
  Barrows, named after fairies, 177, 197;
      opened by Warner, 198;
      in the east part of the Forest, 197 (_foot-note_), 211;
      on Sway Common, 198;
      on Bratley Plain, 199-205;
      near Ocknell Pond, 205, 206;
      near Darrat’s Lane, 206 (_foot-note_);
      on the West Fritham Plain, 207;
      near Amberwood, 208;
      on Butt’s Plain, 209;
      on Langley Heath, 211.
  Barton Cliffs, the, 147;
      Middle-Eocene beds of the, 4;
      atmospheric effects seen from the, 15, 16;
      geology of, 239, 240.
  Beacon, Burley, 82.
  Beaulieu Abbey, its foundation and endowments, 62;
      its dedication, 63;
      the Countess of Warwick and Perkin Warbeck come to its
          sanctuary, 64;
      its dissolution, 65;
      beauty of its situation, 65;
      the abbot’s house, cloisters, and chapter-house, 66;
      church, 67;
      refectory, 67, 68;
      the pulpit of the refectory, 68;
      barn of, 69;
      granges of, 69-71.
  Beauty, exists in the beholder’s mind, 18, 19;
      God’s love of, 127, 128;
      the chief end and aim of Nature, 5.
  Becton Bunny, 149;
      house burnt down, 170;
      geology of, 240.
  Beeches, measurements of, in the Forest, 16 (_foot-note_).
  Bees, folk-lore about, 181.
  Bellus Locus, former name of Beaulieu, 62.
  Bentley Wood, North, 113.
  Beteston Roger, tenure of, at Eyeworth, 114.
  Bible, words in the, now provincialisms, 193.
  Birds, bones of, discovered amongst the foundations of the Priory
          Church, Christchurch, 14 (_foot-note_);
      _see_ Ornithology.
  Bishop’s Ditch, 79.
  Black Bar, large mound at, 210.
  Blackheath Meadow, Roman pottery at, 210.
  Boghampton, village of, 127.
  Boldre, derivation of, 80;
      church, 79.
  Books, at Beaulieu Abbey, just before the dissolution, 65
          (_foot-note_).
  Botany of the Forest, 250-257;
      contradictions in the, 251;
      characterized by its soil, 251, 252;
      bog-plants, 252;
      _carices_ abundant, 252;
      its position under Watson’s system, 253, 254;
      its trees, 254;
      its St. John’s Worts, 254, 255;
      its ferns, 255, 256;
      other plants, 256, 257.
      (_See_ Appendix II., 289.)
  _Bottom_, meaning of the word, 187.
  Bowles, Caroline, married to Southey at Boldre church, 80.
  Bouvery Farm, 69.
  Bramble Hill, oaks at, 16;
      view from, 111.
  Bramshaw, village of, 111.
  Bratley Wood, 113.
  Bratley Plain, barrows upon, 113, 199-205.
  Breamore, village of, 119.
  Brinken Wood, 83.
  Brockenhurst, derivation of, 75;
      tenure at, 76;
      church, 77;
      scenery round, 78.
  Brook Beds, the, 245, 246.
  Brook Common, 111.
  Buckholt, in _Domesday_, 51 (_foot-note_).
  Buckland Rings, Roman coins found at, 154;
      described, 199.
  Burgate, village of, 120.
  Burleigh, Lord, his advice to his son, 1, 2.
  Burley, 82;
      Lodge, 83.
  Bustard, last seen in the Forest, 14 (_foot-note_).
  Butt’s Ash Lane, barrows near, 197 (_foot-note_), 211
          (_foot-note_).
  Butt’s Plain, barrows on, 209.
  Buzzard, Honey, breeding habits of, 262-265;
      weight of the eggs of the, 264 (_foot-note_);
      common, breeding of the, 265, 266.


                                    C
  Cadenham Oak, the, 110.
  Cadland’s Park, 50.
  Calshot Castle, built by Henry VIII., 52;
      mentioned by Colonel Hammond, 52 (_foot-note_);
      the Cerdices-ora of the _Chronicle_, 53;
      different forms of the name, 53, 54.
  Canterton, held by Chenna, in _Domesday_, 28.
  Canute, Forest laws of, 35;
      Charta de Forestâ of, extracts from, 36 (_foot-note_).
  Castle Hill, 118.
  Castles, so-called, in the Forest, 32.
  Catharine’s, St., Hills, 126.
  Cattle, right of turning out, in the Forest, 46.
  Cerdices-ford, now Charford, 54, 118.
  Cerdices-ora, probably Calshot, 52, 53.
  Chapel, chantry, of the Countess of Salisbury, 137, 138;
      of Robert Harys, 143;
      of John Draper, 143.
  Charford, the Cerdices-ford of the _Chronicle_, 118.
  Charles I., his attempt to revive the Forest laws, 42;
      gives the New Forest as security to his creditors, 42;
      embarks for Carisbrook from Leap, 56;
      seized by Colonel Cobbit, 152;
      imprisoned in Hurst Castle, 153, 154;
      how treated by Colonel Hammond, 153 (_foot-note_);
      by Colonel Cobbit, 154.
  Charles II. bestows the young woods of Brockenhurst to the maids
          of honour, 43;
      encloses three hundred acres for oaks, 44.
  Charnwood Forest, the birds of, 275.
  Chestnuts, formerly common in the Forest, 13 (_foot-note_).
  Chewton Glen, 147, 148.
  Chichester, Reginald Pecock, Bishop of, on the legend concerning
          the man in the moon, 177.
  Chough, its increasing scarcity, 275.
  Christchurch, 129;
      its Old-English names, 131;
      Æthelwald at, 131;
      in _Domesday_, 131;
      the castle of, 131, 132;
      Norman House at, 132;
      Chamberlains’ Books of, 135 (_foot-note_);
      Priory Church of, 135, 141-144;
      the conventual buildings of, 138, 139;
      legend of the Priory Church of, 175.
  _Chronicle, The_, on the afforestation of the New Forest, 25, 26;
      the great value of its evidence, 23.
  Church, its date should be told by its style, 123.
  Churches in the Forest mentioned by _Domesday_, still in part
          standing, 31.
  Church Green, in Eyeworth Wood, 32 (_foot-note_).
  Church Lytton, at Wootton, 32, 33 (_foot-note_).
  Church Moor, near Mark Ash, 32 (_foot-note_).
  Church Place, at Sloden, 32 (_foot-note_).
  Churchwardens’ Books, at Ellingham,
      extracts from, 229-231;
      at Fordingbridge, extracts from, 230, 231.
  Chydioke, effigy of Sir John, in the Priory Church of
          Christchurch, 142, 176, 177.
  Clay Hill, view from, 86.
  Cluny, Hugh, Abbot of, foretells the death of William II., 101.
  Coleridge, at Mudeford, 145.
  Colgrimesmore, the ancient name of Souley Pond, 72.
  Commoners, rights of the, in the New Forest, 46.
  _Coronella lævis_, 259 (_foot-note_).
  Corporation Books, extracts from the Christchurch, 135, 136
          (_foot-note_);
      from the Lymington, 155 (_foot-note_).
  Court, Moyles, 120, 121.
  Crockle, Roman and Romano-British
      potteries at, 217-219;
      their probable date, 222.
  Cross, the Staple, 146;
      the, at Bargate, 120.
  Cuckoo, sayings concerning the, 180.
  Customs, old, in the Forest, 178.


                                    D
  Dame Slough, 273.
  Dauphin of France, arms of the, formerly in Boldre Church, 80;
      embarked at Leap, 55.
  Defoe, his plan for colonizing the Forest with the Palatine
          refugees, 47.
  Deer in the Forest, abolished in 1851, 46;
      a few left, 113.
  Deer-stealing, method of, 171.
  Denny Wood, 79;
      heronry at, 273.
  Dibden, church at, 50, 51 (_foot-note_).
  Diodorus Siculus, quotation from, 57 (_foot-note_).
  Dissolution of the religious houses, its need, 64, 137;
      of Beaulieu Abbey, 65;
      of Christchurch Priory, 138.
  _Domesday_, analysis and evidence of, on the afforestation of the
          New Forest, 26, 27, 28, 29, 31;
      churches in the Forest still in part remaining mentioned in,
          31;
      Eling in, 51 (_foot-note_);
      Redbridge in, 51 (_foot-note_);
      Lyndhurst in, 87 (_foot-note_);
      Fordingbridge in, 117;
      Christchurch in, 131;
      mills in, rented by a payment of eels, 128, 119 (_foot-note_);
      Ringwood in, 123 (_foot-note_);
      Christchurch in, 131;
      Beckley, Baishley, and Milton in, 148 (_foot-note_);
      Lymington in, 155.
  Draper, John, the last prior of Christchurch Priory, character of,
          137, 138.
  Drift, in the Forest, its contents, 236.
  Durham, Simon of, on the afforestation of the New Forest, 25
          (_foot-note_);
      on the death of William II., 95 (_foot-note_).


                                    E
  Eagle, golden, the, 260;
      sea, the, 261.
  Eaglehurst, 59.
  Easter Sepulchre, at Brockenhurst Church, 77.
  _Ecclesiastica, or the Book of Remembrance_, 122 (_foot-note_).
  Edward I. issues writs for the perambulation of the Forest, 41;
      possesses the Castle of Christchurch, 132.
  Edward III., corbel head of, in Sopley Church, 127.
  Edward VI. at Christchurch, 134.
  Eel, peculiar to the Avon, an, 125.
  Eels, mills rented by a payment of, 119 (_foot-note_), 128.
  Eling, in _Domesday_, 51 (_foot-note_);
      extract from parish register of, 228.
  Ellingham, cross roads at, 120;
      Church of, 122, 123;
      extract from Churchwardens’ Books of, 229, 230, 231.
  England, its peculiar interest to Englishmen, 2;
      ignorance of, by Englishmen, 2.
  Everton, etymology of, 75.
  Exbury, 59;
      herons feeding near, 273.
  Exe, the river, 69;
      derivation of, 163.


                                    F
  Fairies in the New Forest, 174, 175.
  Falcon, peregrine, 261.
  Fawley, village of, 51;
      church, 51;
      Norman doorway of church, 59.
  Ferns in the Forest, 255, 256.
  Ferrels, or “Verrels,” meaning of, 82.
  _Fidley, Wood-, rain_, meaning of, 79.
  Flambard, hated by the clergy, 102;
      builds the Priory Church of Christchurch, 136.
  Florence of Worcester, on the afforestation of the New Forest, 24;
      on the death of William II., 95 (_foot-note_).
  Flowers. See Botany.
  Folk-lore, value of, 173; in the New Forest, 174-180.
  Font, Norman, at Brockenhurst, 77.
  Fordingbridge, 117;
      church of, 118;
      ancient tenure at, 117 (_foot-note_);
      extracts from Churchwardens’ Books of, 230, 231.
  Forest, meaning of the word, 10 (_foot-note_);
      government of an ancient, 35, 36;
      life in an ancient, 36 (_foot-note_).
  Forest-Laws. _See_ Laws.
  Forest Rights. _See_ Rights.
  Frame Wood, 78, 79.
  Fritham, country round, 114.
  Fritham Plain, East, 113;
      West, 114.
  Fulchered and William II., 94, 102.


                                    G
  Gemeticensis, Gulielmus, on the afforestation of the New Forest,
          23.
  Geology, the, of the Forest, 234;
      in the Eocene period, 235;
      the drift and its contents, 236;
      the Middle-Eocene of the Hordle and Barton Cliffs, 237-242;
      the Bracklesham Beds in the valley of Canterton, 242-248;
      the great aim of, 248.
  Gilpin, author of _Forest Scenery_,
      his love for Nature, 15 (_foot-note_);
      buried in Boldre churchyard, 79, 80.
  Gipsies, principal families of, in the Forest, 159;
      their marriages, 159;
      their present mode of life, 159, 160.
  Godshill, in Gough’s time, 14 (_foot-note_).
  Goreley Bushes, vast Keltic graveyard near, 207.
  Government, duty of, to protect the finest trees in the Forest,
          18.
  Grange, St. Leonard’s, 69;
      barn and chapel at, 70;
      Park, 71;
      Somerford, 138, 147.
  Guest, Dr., on Natan-Leaga, 33 (_foot-note_);
      on Cerdices-ora, 53;
      on the “Belgic Ditches,” 130;
      on the “Early English Settlements in South Britain,” 163
          (_foot-note_), 166 (_foot-note_).
  Guesten-hall, the, of the Abbot’s House at Beaulieu, 66.


                                    H
  Hall, _Union of the Families of Lancaster and York_, by, quotation
          from, 151.
  Handycross Pond, barrow near, 209.
  Harriers, marsh and hen, 268.
  Hat, meaning of, in the Forest, 182, 183.
  Hatchet Gate, 75.
  Hawfinches, in the Forest, 274, 275.
  Heather, its one defect, 81.
  Hengistbury Head, derivation of, 165.
  Hemingburgh, Walter, on the afforestation, 25 (_foot-note_);
      on the death of William II., 95 (_foot-note_).
  Henry III., confirmation of privileges to Beaulieu Abbey, by, 63.
  Henry VIII., patriotism of, 151, 152.
  Herbert’s _Memoirs_, 153, 154.
  Herons in the Forest, 273, 274.
  High Cliff Beds, the, 242.
  Hill Top, 59, 61.
  Hinchelsea, Bottom and Knoll, 81.
  History, our, written on the country, 2, 129;
      tradition, value of, in history, 97, 98;
      truth in, 106.
  Hoadley, Bishop, on the deer in Waltham Chase, 171.
  Hob, Fairy, 175 (_foot-note_).
  Hobby, the, 261;
      weight of the eggs of, 264 (_foot-note_).
  Holland’s Wood, near Brockenhurst, 78.
  Holly, springing up in the Forest, 12 (_foot-note_).
  Holme Bush, explanation of a, 179.
  Holmsley, 81, 82.
  Honey, the Forest, 184.
  Hoopoe, its occurrence, 274.
  Hordle, its church, when built, 31 (_foot-note_);
      churchyard, 150;
      Freshwater deposits at, 237.
  “Horse, the Great,” 126 (_foot-note_).
  House, Burman’s, at Beaulieu, 66.
  House, Norman, at Christchurch, 132.
  House, the Queen’s, at Lyndhurst, 87.
  Hoveden, Roger, on the afforestation of the New Forest, 25
          (_foot-note_);
      on the death of William II., 95 (_foot-note_).
  Howard, the philanthropist, lived at Watcombe, 75.
  Huntingdon, Henry of, on the afforestation, 25 (_foot-note_);
      on the death of William II., 95 (_foot-note_).
  Hurst, meaning of the word, 35.
  Hurst Beach, 151;
      Castle, built by Henry VIII., 151;
      Charles at, 152-154;
      importance of, 152 (_foot-note_).
  Hyde or Hungerford, 120.
  Hythe, village of, 50.


                                    I
  Ibbesley, view at, 120;
      extracts from parish register of, 232, 233.
  Ictis, the Isle of Wight, 57, 58.
  Idleness, profitable, 90.
  Innocent III., grants the right of a sanctuary to Beaulieu Abbey,
          63.
  Insulis, Alanus de, on the death of William II., 102.
  Iron’s Hill Wood, 75.
  Iron-works at Souley Pond, 72.
  Isabella de Fortibus, her possessions at Christchurch, 132;
      at Lymington, 154.
  Island Hills, the, 78.
  Island Thorn, Roman and Romano-British Potteries at, 220.


                                    J
  James I. grants twenty assart-lands in the Forest, 43.
  Jar-bird, meaning of a, 187.
  John, King, his oppression of the Cistercian order, 61;
      founds Beaulieu Abbey, 62.


                                    K
  Kalkesore, old name of Calshot, 54.
  Keltic element in the dialect of the New Forest, 163;
      in the topography, 164.
  Kestrel, eggs of, weight of the, 264.
  “Keystone under the hearth,” meaning of the proverb, 170.
  King’s Day, the, explanation of, 231.
  King’s Rue, 56.
  Kitts Hill, 91.
  Knives, flint, found at Eyeworth, 297 (_foot-note_).
  Knoll, Black, 78, 84.
  Knyghton, on the afforestation of the New Forest, 24;
      his authority of no value, 95 (_foot-note_).
  Knyghtwood Oak, the, 16.


                                    L
  Labourers in the New Forest, average wages of, 47 (_foot-note_).
  Lane, Jane, 121.
  Langley Heath, barrows on, opened by the Rev. J. P. Bartlett, 211.
  Lappenberg, his account of the afforestation of the New Forest by
          William I., 21;
      on the Ictis of the ancients, 56.
  Latchmore Pond, 81, 199.
  Lawrence, the sprite, in the Forest, 174.
  Law-Courts, last of the Forest, 12, 87.
  Laws, Forest-, Canute’s, 35;
      made still severer by William I., 38;
      Charles I., attempts to revive, 42.
  Leap, 55;
      the spot where the Dauphin, Louis VIII. of France, embarked,
          55;
      where Charles I. embarked, 56;
      British and Roman road at, 56;
      mass of tin found near, 57.
  Lease to, meaning of, 193.
  Leighton, Mr., fresco in Lyndhurst church by, 88.
  Leland on the death of William II., 96 (_foot-note_).
  Lepidoptera, list of the Forest, Appendix IV., 319.
  Lewis, Sir George C., on the Ictis of the ancients, 57;
      his theory corroborated, 58.
  Lichens, used as specifics in the Forest, 176.
  Lichmore Pond, 81, 199.
  Life, modern, its hurry and confusion, 73.
  Liney Hill Wood, 83.
  Lisle, Alice, 121.
  Loute, to, meaning of, 188.
  Lungs of oak (_Sticta pulmonaria_), used as a specific for
          consumption, 176.
  Lung-wort, narrow-leaved, the, 69, 256.
  Lymington, port of, 154;
      its history, 155, 156;
      extracts from the Corporation Books of, 155 (_foot-note_).
  Lyndhurst, derivation of, 86 (_foot-note_);
      church of, 87;
      scenery round, 89, 90;
      ancient tenure at, 86, 87;
      woods round, 90, 91.


                                    M
  Malmesbury, William of, on the afforestation of the New Forest, 25
          (_foot-note_);
      on the death of William II., 93, 94 (_foot-note_), 95
          (_foot-note_);
      on the physical appearance of William II., 99 (_foot-note_).
  Map, Ordnance, mistake of the, 128 (_foot-note_).
  Mapes, Walter, on the afforestation of the New Forest, 24.
  Mark Ash Wood, 17.
  Mead, made in the New Forest, 184.
  Merlin, breeding of the, in the Forest, 267, 268 (_foot-note_);
      weight of supposed egg of, 161, 264.
  Middle Marine Bed, the, at Mineway, 237, 238.
  Milford, church of, 150, 151.
  Millaford Brook, the, 83, 90.
  Mills in the New Forest, comparative value of, by _Domesday_, 29;
      rented by a payment of eels, in _Domesday_, 119 (_foot-note_).
  Milton, words used by, now provincialisms, 191.
  Milton, village of, mentioned in _Domesday_, 148 (_foot-note_).
  Minestead, 92.
  Monastery, average library of a, 65 (_foot-note_);
      life in a, 72, 73.
  Monmouth’s Ash, 122.
  Monmouth, capture of, 122;
      writes to James, the Queen Dowager, and the Lord Treasurer,
          123.
  Moon-Hill Woods, the, 75.
  Morefalls, the Lord Treasurer, Southampton, on the evils of
          granting, 43, 44 (_foot-note_).
  Moyles Court, 120, 121.
  Moyne, William le-, tenure of, at Lyndhurst, 87.
  Mudeford, 146.


                                    N
  Natan-Leaga, the name preserved, 33.
  Nation, history of a, how best read, 224;
      its æsthetic life, how best determined, 224, 225.
  Nature, beauty the end and aim of, 5;
      her care for trees, 10;
      the proper spirit with which to see, 19.
  Natural history, its value, 235, 276.
  Needsore, 54;
      derivation of, 165.
  Netley Abbey Church, ruins of, 49;
      fort, 49, hospital, 50.
  New Forest, the; its connection with our history, 3;
      scenery of, 4;
      trees of, 16, 17;
      in the winter, 18;
      its boundaries in the reign of Edward I., 20, 21;
      its afforestation by William I., 21;
      value of land in _Domesday_, 29;
      geology of, 4, 10, 29, 30, 234-249;
      botany of, 250, 257 (_see_ also Appendix II., 289);
      ornithology of, 258-276 (_see_ also Appendix III., 307);
      churches of, 4;
      the first and second perambulations of, 40;
      character of the second perambulation of, 41, 42;
      hills of, 10;
      its former woody nature proved by the local nomenclature, 33;
      general character of, 11;
      in the time of the Normans, 12, 13;
      changes in, 12;
      granted as security by Charles I. to his creditors, 42;
      its neglected state under the Stuarts, 43, 44;
      William III. legislates for, 44;
      statistics of, 40, 47 (_foot-note_);
      present management of, 47 (_foot-note_);
      assart lands in, granted by James I., 42;
      hurricane in, 44;
      ethnology of, 160, 161;
      smuggling in, 169, 170;
      deer-stealing in, 171;
      folk-lore of, 173, 180;
      poetry of, 176;
      love superstitions of, 179;
      proverbs of, 179;
      local sayings, 179;
      provincialisms of, 181, 195 (_see_, also, Appendix I., 279);
      traditions in, 96, 97, 180, 181;
      barrows of, 196-213;
      Parish Registers and Churchwardens’ Books of, 226-233;
      Lepidoptera of, Appendix IV., 319.
  New Park, 86.
  Nodes, the, 197.


                                    O
  Oak, the Cadenham, 110.
  Oaks, character of in the Forest, 16;
      measurements of, 16 (_foot-note_);
      “bustle-headed,” meaning of, 183.
  Ocknell Wood, 113.
  Onomatopoieia, its occurrence amongst provincialisms, 186.
  Ordnance map, mistake of, 126 (_foot-note_).
  Ore Creek, 54 (_foot-note_).
  Ornithology of the Forest, 260;
      white-tailed eagle, 260;
      osprey, 261;
      hobby, breeding of the, 261;
      honey-buzzard, breeding habits of, 261, 263, 265;
      common buzzard, breeding habits of, 265;
      merlin, nesting of, 267, 268 (_foot-note_);
      harriers, 268;
      owls, 269;
      raven, breeding of, 270;
      winter birds, 271;
      woodpeckers, 272;
      herons, 273;
      hawfinches, 274;
      chough, 275;
      census of birds, 275 (_see_ also Appendix III., 307).
  Ovest, meaning of, 183.
  Oxenford and Oxford, true derivation of, 80.


                                    P
  Paris, Matthew, on William II.’s death, 94 (_foot-note_), 95
          (_foot-note_).
  Parish Registers. See Registers.
  Park Grange, 71.
  Park, New, 86.
  Pennington, the village of, 153.
  Perambulation of the New Forest, the first, 40;
      the second, 40, 41;
      character of the second, 41, 42.
  Pignel Wood, 272, 273.
  Pigs, right of turning out, in the Forest, 46;
      breed of in the Forest, peculiar, 259.
  Pitt’s Enclosure, Roman and Romano-British potteries, at, 220.
  Pliny on the Isle of Wight, 57 (_foot-note_).
  Poetry of the New Forest, character of, 175, 176 (_foot-note_).
  Ponies, Forest, 259.
  Potteries, Roman and Romano-British, 214;
      at Crockle, first discovered by the Rev. J. Pemberton
          Bartlett, 215;
      at Anderwood, 215;
      at Oakley, 215;
      at Sloden, 216;
      at the Lower Hat, 217;
      at Crockle, description of, 218, 219;
      at Island Thorn, 220;
      at Pitt’s Enclosure, 220;
      at Ashley Rails, 221;
      at Black Heath, 221.
  Provincialisms, Keltic element in the New Forest, 163;
      the real character of, 173;
      in the New Forest, 181-195.
      (_See_ also Appendix I., 279).
  Proverbs in the Forest, 179.
  Puck, the fairy, in the Forest, 174;
      names of fields, and woods, and barrows, derived from him,
          175.
  Puckpit’s Wood, 112, 113.
  Pulpit, the, of Beaulieu Refectory, 68.
  Purkess, family of, 97.


                                    Q
  Quarr Abbey, 155.
  Queen’s Bower Wood, the, 83.
  Queen’s Mead, the, 83.
  Queen’s North, 11, 113, 114.


                                    R
  Raven, its breeding in the Forest, 270.
  Reachmore Barrow, 113.
  Redbridge, in _Domesday_, 51 (_foot-note_).
  Redstart, Black, its periodical occurrence in the Forest, 274.
  Refectory of Beaulieu Abbey, now the parish church, 67;
      pulpit of, 68.
  Registers, Parish, at Eling, extract from, 227, 228;
      at Ibbesley, extracts from, 233, 234;
      at Christchurch, 234;
      date of registers in the Forest, 227 (_foot-note_).
  Reredos, in the Priory Church of Christchurch, 140, 141;
      in St. Mary’s Overie, 141 (_foot-note_).
  Rere-mouse, meaning of, 192.
  Rhinefield, nursery at, 47.
  Rich and poor, difference between, 5.
  Rights, Forest-, their origin, 36 (_foot-note_), 46 (_foot-note_).
  Ringwood, 123;
      fine brass at, 124.
  Rodford, derivation of, 166.
  Romans, why they chose the New Forest for their potteries, 224;
      their influence on the district, 225.
      _See_ also Potteries and Buckland Rings.
  Rood-screen in Ellingham Church, 122;
      at Christchurch, 140.
  Rose, the _Red King_ by, 33 (_foot-note_);
      _Gundimore_, extract from his, 146, 147 (_foot-note_).
  Ross, John, on the afforestation of the New Forest, 25
          (_foot-note_).
  Rue Copse, 56.
  Rue, King’s, 56.


                                    S
  Salisbury Chapel, the, in the Priory Church of Christchurch, 141.
  Salisbury, Countess of, her execution, 141, 142.
  Salisbury, John of, on the character of William II., 99
          (_foot-note_);
      on William II.’s death, 106.
  Sanctuary of Beaulieu, the right of, given by Innocent III., 63;
      the Countess of Warwick flies to the, 64;
      Perkin Warbeck, flies to, 64.
  Sandyballs, 118.
  Screen, Rood-, in Ellingham Church, 122;
      in the Priory Church of Christchurch, 140.
  Sepulchre, Easter, in Brockenhurst Church, 77.
  Serlo and William II., 93, 94.
  Setthornes, 81.
  Shade, meaning of the word in the Forest, 181, 182.
  Shakspeare, words used by, now provincialisms, 189.
  Sheets-axe, meaning of the word, 183.
  Shepherd’s Gutter Beds, the, 244, 245.
  Shrewsbury, Fulchered, Abbot of St. Peter’s at, prophetic words
          spoken by, 94 (_foot-note_), 102.
  Sloden, Roman and Romano-British potteries at, 216.
  Sloden Hole, plan of, 217 (_foot-note_).
  Smoke Silver, 178 (_foot-note_);
      explanation of, 232.
  Smuggling, formerly carried on in the Forest, 169, 170.
  Snow-storm, great, in the Forest, 180, 181.
  Solent, traditions concerning the former depth of, 58.
  Somerford Grange, 147.
  Songs of the New Forest, 175, 176 (_foot-note_).
  Sopley, derivation of, 127;
      church of, 127.
  Southey, married his second wife at Boldre Church, 80;
      at Burton, 146.
  Southampton, the Lord Treasurer, on the evils of granting
          moorefalls, 43, 44 (_foot-note_).
  Southampton, Sir Bevis of, 3;
      ships built by Henry V. at, 4.
  Souley Pond, 72;
      iron-works at, 72.
  Spelman, Peter, tenure at Brockenhurst held by, 76.
  Spotswood, blunder of, 24 (_foot-note_).
  Squoyles, meaning of the word, 183.
  St. John’s Worts in the Forest, 254, 255.
  Staneswood, in _Domesday_, 51 (_foot-note_).
  Staple Cross, the, 145.
  Stone, Rufus’s, 96, 97.
  Stoney-Cross, views from, 110, 112.
  Streams, character of the Forest, 14;
      the best guide, 17;
      beauty of, 83, 84.
  Sunsets in the Forest, 15, 113;
      from the Barton Cliffs, 149, 150.
  Swanimote, Court of, 35.
  Sway Common, 80, 81;
      barrows on, 198, 199.


                                    T
  Thorougham, now Fritham, the Truham of _Domesday_, 96
          (_foot-note_).
  Tiril, Walter, William II. gives him two arrows, 93;
      according to the Chroniclers shoots the King, 94;
      his declaration to Suger, 106;
      his implication in the murder, 106;
      the cause of his supposed flight, 106;
      his friendship with Anselm, 102.
  Towns, historical interest in English, 129, 130;
      their history, the history of the day, 130.
  Tradition, its value in history, 97, 98.
  Traditions in the Forest, 96, 97, 180, 181.
  Trail of oak, the, meaning of, 183.
  Travelling, modern, style of, 2.
  Tree-forms, loveliness of, 9.
  Trees, their comparative value as standing and cut, 18;
      in the Forest, 254.
  Truth, involuntarily perverted, 22.
  Tweonea, the ancient name of Christchurch, 131.
  Tyrrel’s Ford, 97, 126.


                                    U
  Urns found in Bratley barrow, 201, 202;
      in Hilly Accombs barrow, 206 (_foot-note_);
      in various other barrows, 211 (_foot-note_);
      pieces of, in different barrows, 200, 204, 205, 207, 208.
  Usnea barbata, its abundance in the Forest, 91 (_foot-note_).


                                    V
  Valley of the Avon, its character, 116.
  Van-winged hawk, the, of the Forest, 261.
  “Vineyards, the,” at Beaulieu Abbey, 67.
  Vinney, meaning of the word, 190.
  Vinney Ridge, 82, 83;
      heronry at, 273.
  Vitalis on the afforestation of the New Forest, 24;
      on William II.’s death, 94, 95.


                                    W
  Wages, average, of labourers in the New Forest, 47 (_foot-note_).
  Walking, advantages of, over driving, 6.
  Warbeck, Perkin, takes refuge at Beaulieu Abbey, 64.
  Warwick, Countess of, takes refuge at Beaulieu Abbey, 64.
  Wendover, Roger, on the afforestation of the New Forest, 25
          (_foot-note_).
  West-Saxons, superstitious character of, still observable, 160,
          161;
      love of sport, 162;
      peculiarity of dress, 162;
      verbal characteristics of, 167.
  Westminster, Matthew of, on the death of William II., 95
          (_foot-note_).
  Whitebeams at Sloden, 114;
      at Castle Malwood, 254.
  Whiteshoot, square barrow near, 207.
  Wight, Isle of, atmospheric effects on the, 15;
      the Ictis of the ancients, 57, 58;
      Pliny on, 57 (_foot-note_), 236.
  William I., his character, 21, 22;
      his right to make a forest, 23;
      possessions in the Forest, 23 (_foot-note_);
      his love for the chase, 34;
      his cruelty and oppression, 22, 38.
  William II., his dream, as recorded, on the night before his
          death, 92, 93;
      his speech to the monk from Gloucester, 94;
      his death, 94;
      his body brought to Winchester Cathedral, 95;
      his brother and nephew killed in the Forest, 98;
      his character, 99 (_foot-note_);
      the events of his reign, 100 (_foot-note_);
      the cause of his death, 101, 102, 103;
      hated by his clergy, 104;
      plots against his life, 104, 105;
      his death read by his life, 108.
  William III., his legislation for the Forest, 44;
      not attended to, 45.
  Wilverley Plantations, 81.
  Wood, how sold for fuel in the Forest, 46.
  Woodcocks, their breeding in the Forest, 269.
  Woodmote, Court of, 87.
  Woodpecker, great black, breeding of the, 272.
  Woods, their beauty, 8;
      as dwelt upon by our English poets, 9 (_foot-note_);
      how valued in _Domesday_, 11, 12 (_foot-note_);
      round Lyndhurst, 89, 90.
  Woollen, affidavits of burials in, 232, 233.
  Wootton plantations, 81;
      woodcocks breed in, 269, 270.
  Worcester, Florence of. _See_ Florence.


                                    Y
  Yaffingale, local name for the green woodpecker, 272.
  Yarranton, his report upon making the Avon navigable, 134;
      on the ironstone of the coast, 151.
  “Yellow as a kite’s claw, as,” a Forest proverb, 179.
  Yews, measurements of various, 78 (_foot-note_), at Sloden, 114.
  Ytene, the district of, 33, 163.
  Yvery, Roger de, leads the Midland barons, 105;
      possessed land at Lymington, 155.




                               FOOTNOTES


[1]_Political Pieces and Songs relating to English History._ Edited by
    Thomas Wright. Vol. ii., p. 199.

[2]It is worth noticing how, according to their natures, our English
    poets have dwelt upon the meaning of the woods, from Spenser, with
    his allegories, to the ballad-singer, who saw them only as a
    preserve for deer. Shakspeare touches upon them with both that
    joyful gladness, peculiar to him, and the deep melancholiness, which
    they also inspire. Shelley and Keats, though in very different ways,
    both revel in the woods. To Wordsworth they are “a map of the whole
    world.” Of course, under the names of woods, and any lessons from
    them, I speak only of such lowland woods as are known chiefly in
    England; not dense forests shutting out light and air, without
    flowers or song of birds, whose effect on national poetry and
    character is quite the reverse to that of the groves and woodlands
    of our own England. See what Mr. Ruskin has so well said on the
    subject. _Modern Painters_, vol. v., part vi., ch. ix., § 15, pp.
    89, 90; and, also in the same volume, part vii., chap. iv., § 2, 3,
    pp. 137-39; and compare vol. iii., part iv., ch. xiv., § 33, pp.
    217-19.

[3]In the lower part of the Forest, near the Channel, the effect is
    quite painful, all the trees being strained away from the sea like
    Tennyson’s thorn. It is the _Usnea barbata_ which covers them,
    especially the oaks, with its hoary fringe, and gives such a
    character to the whole Forest.

[4]The reader must bear in mind that the word “forest” is here used, as
    it is always throughout the district, in its primitive sense of a
    wild, open space. And the moors and plains are still so called,
    though there may not be a single tree growing upon them. (See chap.
    iii., p. 35, foot-note.)

[5]The woods, in _Domesday_, are, as we shall see, generally valued by
    the number of swine they maintain.

[6]For a justification of this general picture, I must refer the reader
    to the next chapter, where references to _Domesday_, as to the state
    of the district before its afforestation by the Conqueror, and the
    evidence supplied by the names of places, are given. I may add, as
    showing the former nature of the woods, that the charcoal found in
    the barrows, embankments, and the Roman potteries, is made from oak
    and beech, but principally the latter. Since, too, the deer have
    been destroyed, young shoots of holly are springing up in all
    directions, and another generation may, perhaps, see the Forest
    resembling its old condition. As a proof, beside the entry in
    _Domesday_, that the Hordle Cliffs were covered with timber, the
    fishermen dredging for the _septaria_ in the Channel constantly drag
    up large boles of oaks, locally known as “mootes.” The existence of
    the chestnut is shown by the large beams in some of the old Forest
    churches, as at Fawley; but none now exist, except a few,
    comparatively modern, though very fine, at Boldrewood. Further, the
    Forest could never, except in the winter, have been very swampy, as
    the gravelly formation of the greater part of the soil supplies it
    with a natural drainage. Still, there were swamps, and in the wet
    places large quantities of bog-oak have been dug up, bearing
    witness, as in other countries, of an epoch of oaks, which preceded
    the beech-woods. Gough, in his additions to Camden’s _Britannia_,
    vol. i., p. 126, describes Godshill as being in his day covered with
    thick oaks. When, too, Lewis wrote in 1811, old people could then
    recollect it so densely covered with pollard oaks and hollies that
    the road was easily lost. (_Historical Enquiries on the New Forest_,
    p. 79, Foot-note.) No one, I suppose, now believes that wolves were
    extirpated by Edgar. They and wild boars are expressly mentioned in
    the Laws of Canute (_Manwood: a Treatise of the Lawes of the
    Forest_, _f._ 3, § 27, 1615), and lingered in the north of England
    till Henry VIII.’s reign. (See further on the subject, _The Zoology
    of Ancient Europe_, by Alfred Newton, p. 24.) I have hesitated,
    however, to include the beaver, though noticed by Harrison, who
    wrote in 1574, as in his time frequenting the Taf, in Wales
    (_Description of England_, prefixed to Holinshed’s _Chronicle_, ch.
    iv. pp. 225, 226.) The eggs of cranes, bustards, and bitterns, were,
    we know, protected as late as the middle of the sixteenth century.
    (_Statutes of the Realm_, vol. iii., p. 445, 25^o Henry VIII., ch.
    xi., § 4; and vol. iv., p. 109, 3^o, 4^o, Ed. VI., ch. vii.) The
    last bustard was seen in the Forest, some twenty-five years ago, on
    Butt’s Plain, near Eyeworth. It is a sad pity that the enormous
    collection of birds’ bones, described as chiefly those of herons and
    bitterns, found by Brander amongst the foundations of the Priory
    Church at Christchurch (see _Archæologia_, vol. iv., pp. 117, 118),
    were not preserved, as they might have yielded some interesting
    results. We must, however, still bear in mind that there are far
    more points of resemblance than of difference between the Forest of
    to-day and that of the Conqueror’s time; especially in the long
    tracts of fern and heath and furze, which certainly then existed,
    pastured over by flocks of cattle.

[7]_Remarks on Forest Scenery, illustrated by the New Forest_, vol. ii.,
    pp. 241-46; third edition. Some mention should here be made of
    Gilpin, a man who, in a barren, unnatural age, partook of much of
    the same spirit as Cowper and Thompson, and whose work should be
    placed side by side with their poems. Unfortunately, much of his
    description is now quite useless, as the Forest has been so much
    altered; but the real value of the book still remains unchanged in
    its pure love for Nature and its simple, unaffected tone. It is well
    worth, however, noticing—as showing the enormous difficulty of
    overcoming an established error—that, notwithstanding his true
    appreciation of bough-forms (see vol. i., pp. 110-12, same edition),
    and his hatred of pollarded shapes, and all formalism (same vol., p.
    4), he had not sufficient force to break through the conventional
    drawing of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth
    centuries, and his trees (see, as before, pp. 252-54) are all drawn
    under the impression that they are a gigantic species of cabbage.
    The edition, however, published in 1834, and edited by Sir T. D.
    Lauder, is, in this and many other respects, far better.

[8]The following measurements may have, perhaps, an interest for some
    readers:—Girth of the Knyghtwood oak, 17 ft. 4 in.; of the Western
    oak at Boldrewood, 24 ft. 9 in.; the Eastern, 16 ft.; and the
    Northern, in the thickest part, 20 ft. 4 in.; though, lower down,
    only 14 ft. 8 in.; beech at Studley, 21 ft.; beech at Holmy Ridge,
    20 ft. The handsomest oak, however, in the district, stands a few
    yards outside the Forest boundary, close to Moyle’s Court, measuring
    18 ft. 8½ in.

[9]_England under the Anglo-Norman Kings._ Ed. Thorpe, p. 214.

[10]The same, p. 266.

[11]_The Chronicle._ Ed. Thorpe. Vol. i. p. 354. This, of course, must
    not be too literally taken. It is one of those stock phrases which
    so often recur in literature, and may be found, under rather
    different forms, applied to other princes.

[12]Voltaire was the first to throw any doubt on the generally received
    account (_Essai sur les Mœurs et l’Esprit des Nations_, tom. iii.
    ch. xlii. p. 169. _Panthéon Littéraire._ Paris, 1836). He has in
    England been followed by Warner (_Topographical Remarks on the
    South-Western Parts of Hampshire_, vol. i. pp. 164-197), and Lewis,
    in his _Historical Enquiries concerning the New Forest_, pp. 42-55.

[13]Concerning the King’s prerogative to make a forest wherever he
    pleased, and the ancient legal maxim that all beasts of the chase
    were exclusively his and his alone, see Manwood—_A Treatise of the
    Lawes of the Forest_, ch. ii. ff. 25-33, and ch. iii. sect. i. f.
    33, 1615. We must remember, too, that, before the afforestation,
    William not only owned by right of conquest, as being King, the
    large demesne lands of the Crown in the district, and also those
    estates of former possessors, who had fallen at Hastings, or fled
    into exile, but, as we know from _Domesday_, kept some—as at Eling,
    Breamore, and Ringwood—in his own hands.

[14]Bouquet. _Recueil des Historiens des Gaules et de la France_, tom.
    xi., pref., No. xii. p. 14; and tom. xii., pref., No. xlix. pp.
    46-48. Some account of him may be found in tom. x. p. 184, foot-note
    _a_, and in the preface of the same volume, No. xv. p. 28. See also
    preface to tom. viii., No. xxxi., p. 24, as also p. 254, foot-note
    _a_.

[15]_De Ducibus Normannis_, book vii. c. ix.; in Camden’s _Anglica
    Scripta_, p. 674.

[16]_Chronicon ex Chronicis._ Ed. Thorpe. Vol. ii. p. 45. Published by
    the English Historical Society.

[17]_Historia Ecclesiastica_, pars. iii. lib. x., in the _Patrologiæ
    Cursus Completus_. Ed. J. P. Migne. Tom. clxxxviii. p. 749 c. Paris,
    1855.

[18]_De Nugis Curialium Distinctiones Quinque_, distinc. v. cap. vi. p.
    222. Published by the Camden Society.

[19]_De Eventibus Angliæ_, lib. ii. cap. vii., in Twysden’s _Historiæ
    Anglicanæ Scriptores Decem_, p. 2373. I am almost ashamed to quote
    Knyghton, but it is as well to give the most unfavourable account.
    Spotswood, in his _History of the Church of Scotland_ (book ii. p.
    30, fourth edition, 1577), repeats the same blunder as Walter Mapes
    and Knyghton, adding that the New Forest was at Winchester, and that
    Rufus destroyed thirty churches.

[20]For the sake of brevity, let me add that William of Malmesbury
    (_Gesta Regum Anglorum_, vol. ii. p. 455, published by the English
    Historical Society, 1840), Henry of Huntingdon (_Historiarum_, lib.
    vi., in Savile’s _Rerum Anglicarum Scriptores_, p. 371), Simon of
    Durham (_De Gestis Regum Anglorum_, in the _Historiæ Anglicanæ
    Scriptores Decem_, p. 225), copying word for word from Florence,
    Roger Hoveden (_Annalium Pars Prior, Willielmus Junior_, in the
    _Rerum Anglicarum Scriptores_, p. 468), Roger of Wendover (_Flores
    Historiarum_, vol. ii. pp. 25, 26, published by the English
    Historical Society), Walter Hemingburgh (_De Gestis Regum Angliæ_,
    vol. i. p. 33, published by the English Historical Society), and
    John Ross (_Historia Regum Angliæ_, pp. 112, 113. Ed. Hearne.
    Oxford, 1716), repeat, according to their different degrees of
    accuracy, the general story of the Conqueror destroying villages and
    exterminating the inhabitants.

[21]_The Chronicle._ Ed. Thorpe, as before quoted. Nor does the writer,
    when another opportunity presents itself at Rufus’s death, mention
    the matter, but passes it over in significant silence. The same
    volume, p. 364.

[22]See _Domesday_ (the photo-zincographed fac-simile of the part
    relating to Hampshire; published at the Ordnance Survey Office,
    1861), p. xxix. b, under Bertramelei, Pistelslai, Odetune, Oxelei,
    &c.

[23]See in _Domesday_, as before, p. xxvii. b, the entry under
    Langelei—“Aluric Petit tenet unam virgatam in Forestâ.” See, too, p.
    iii. b, under Edlinges.

[24]See in _Domesday_, under Thuinam, Holeest, Slacham, Rinwede, p. iv.
    a; and Herdel, p. xxviii. b.

[25]See in _Domesday_, out of many instances, Esselei and Suei, p. xxix.
    b; Bailocheslei, p. xiv. b; Wolnetune and Bedeslei, p. xxviii. a;
    Hentune, p. xxviii. b; and Linhest, p. iv. a.

[26]It is possible that whilst the survey was being taken Saulf died. If
    this be so, we find an instance of feeling in allowing his widow to
    still rent the lands at Hubborn, which could little have been
    expected. The name seems to have been misspelt in various entries.
    See _Domesday_, p. xxix. b, under Sanhest and Melleford.

[27]Aluric is probably the physician of that name mentioned in
    _Domesday_, p. xxix. a, as holding land in the hundred of Egheiete.
    Not to take up further space, let me here only notice some few out
    of the many Old-English names of persons in _Domesday_ holding lands
    in places which had been more or less afforested, such as Godric
    (probably Godric Malf) at Wootton, Willac in the hundred of
    Egheiete, Uluric at Godshill, in the actual Forest, and Wislac at
    Oxley. See _Domesday_ under the words Odetune, Godes-manes-camp, and
    Oxelei, p. xxix. b. See, also, under Totintone, p. xxvii. a, where
    Agemund and Alric hold lands which the former, and the latter’s
    father, had held of Edward.

[28]Passing over the later and more highly-coloured accounts, we will
    content ourselves with Florence of Worcester, as more trustworthy,
    whose words are—“Antiquis enim temporibus, Edwardi scilicet Regis,
    et aliorum Angliæ Regum predecessorum ejus, hæc regio incolis Dei et
    ecclesiis nitebat uberrime.” (Thorpe’s edition, as before quoted.)
    Were this, even in a limited degree, true, the Forest would present
    the strange anomaly of possessing more churches then than it does
    now, with a great increase of population. The _Domesday_ census, we
    may add, makes the inhabitants of that portion which is called “In
    Novâ Forestâ et circa eam,” a little over two hundred. See Ellis’s
    _Introduction to Domesday_, vol. ii. p. 450.

[29]In support of these statements, I may quote from the Prize Essay on
    the Farming of Hampshire, published in the _Journal of the Royal
    Agricultural Society of England_ (vol. xxii., part ii., No. 48,
    1861), and which was certainly not written with any view to
    historical evidence, but simply from an agricultural point. At pp.
    242, 243, the author says: “The outlying New Forest block consists
    of more recent and unprofitable deposits. This tract appears to the
    ordinary observer, at first sight, to be a mixed mass of clays,
    marls, sands, and gravels. The apparent confusion arises from the
    variety of the strata, from the confined space in which they are
    deposited, and from the manner in which, on the numerous hills and
    knolls, they overlie one another, or are concealed by drift gravel.”
    And again, at pp. 250, 251, he continues: “Of the Burley Walk, the
    part to the west of Burley Beacon, and round it, is nothing but sand
    or clay growing rushes, with here and there some ‘bed furze.’... The
    Upper Bagshots, about Burley Beacon, round by Rhinefield and Denney
    Lodges, and so on towards Fawley, are hungry sands devoid of
    staple:” and finally sums up by saying, “half of the 63,000 acres
    are not worth 1_s._ 6_d._ an acre,” p. 330.

[30]In that portion under “In Novâ Forestâ et circa eam.”

[31]Warner, vol. ii. p. 33, says Hordle Church was standing when
    _Domesday_ was made. This is a mistake. It was, however, built soon
    after, as we know from some grants of Baldwin de Redvers.

[32]Mr. Thorpe notices, in his edition of _The Chronicle_, vol. ii. p.
    94, foot-note, its early use, in a document of Eadger’s, A.D. 964,
    in the sense of a town; but in the first place it certainly meant
    only an inclosed spot. There appears to have been at some time, in
    the south part of the Forest, a church near Wootton, the Odetune of
    _Domesday_, where its memory is still preserved in the name of
    Church Lytton given to a small plot of ground. Rose, in his notes to
    the _Red King_, p. 205, suggests that Church Moor and Church Place
    indicate other places of worship. Church Moor is a very unlikely
    situation, being a large and deep morass, and could well, from its
    situation, have been nothing else, and, in all probability, takes
    its name, in quite modern times, from some person. But Church Place
    at Sloden, like Church Green in Eyeworth Wood, is certainly merely
    the embankments near which the Romano-British population employed in
    the Roman potteries, once lived, and which ignorance and
    superstition have turned into sacred ground. The word Lytton, at
    Wootton, however, makes the former position certain, but by no means
    necessitates that the church was standing at the afforestation. Thus
    we know that in Leland’s time a chapel was in existence at Fritham
    (_Itinerary_, ed. Hearne, vol. vi. f. 100, p. 88), which has since
    his day disappeared. It would, of course, be absurd to argue that
    all ruins which have been, or yet may be found, were caused by the
    Conqueror. Further, with regard to the castles, had there been any,
    they would most certainly have been noticed in _Domesday_, and it is
    most unlikely, knowing how very few existed in England at the
    Conquest, that five or six should have been clustered together in
    the Forest. The fact, too, of Rose’s finding “minute fragments of
    brick and mortar,” lumps of chalk, and pieces of slate bored with
    holes, simply proves that persons have, subsequently to the Normans,
    found the New Forest a most ungrateful soil. I may, perhaps, add
    that Mr Akerman, the well-known archæologist, when, a few years
    since, exploring the Roman potteries in the Forest (for which see
    chapter xvii.), in vain tried there, or in other parts, to find any
    traces of old buildings. (_Archæologia_, vol. xxxv. p. 97.)

[33]See Dr. Guest’s _Early English Settlements in South Britain;
    Proceedings of the Archæological Institute_, Salisbury volume, p.
    57.

[34]“Nova Foresta, quæ linguâ Anglorum Ytene nuncupatur,” however, says
    Florence of Worcester (vol. ii. pp. 44, 45, ed. Thorpe); but the
    Keltic origin of the word is better.

[35]Ashley is connected with Esk and Usk, and refers to water rather
    than wood.—_errata_

[36]The names of the fields in the various farms adjoining the
    Forest—Furzy Close, Heathy Close, Cold Croft, Starvesall, Hungry
    Hill, Rough Pastures, &c. &c.—are not without meaning. The common
    Forest proverb of “lark’s-lees,” applied to the soil, pretty
    clearly, too, shows its quality.

[37]Manwood defines a forest “a certaine territorie of woody grounds and
    fruitful pastures.” _A Treatise of the Lawes of the Forest._ London,
    1619. Chap. i. f. 18. Wedgwood (_Dictionary of English Etymology_,
    vol. ii. p. 34) shows the true meaning of the word, by connecting it
    with the Welsh _gores_, _gorest_, waste, open ground, and _goresta_,
    to lie open.

[38]See Mr. Davies’s paper on the Races of Lancashire, _Transactions of
    the Philological Society_, 1855, p. 258. In _Domesday_, as before,
    under Clatinges, p. xviii. a, we find, “Silva inutilis,” that is, a
    wood which has no beech, oak, ash, nor holly, but only yews or
    thorns, equivalent to the entry, “Silva sine pasnagio,” under Anne,
    p. xix. a. (See, too, Ellis, _Introduction to Domesday_, vol. i. p.
    99.) Whilst under Borgate, p. iv. b, we find, “Pastura quæ reddebat
    xl porcos est in forestâ Regis.”

[39]See Manwood, as before, ff. 1-5.

[40]In the Charta de Forestâ of Canute (Manwood, f. 3, sect. 27) mention
    is made in the forests of horses, cows, and wild goats which are all
    protected; and from sect. 28 it is plain that, under certain
    limitations, people might cut fuel. These, with other privileges,
    such as killing game on their own lands (see sect. xxx. f. 4)—for,
    by theory, all game was the King’s—were compensations given to the
    forester for being subject to Forest Law.

    Further, from the Charta de Forestâ of Henry III. (Manwood, ff.
    6-11), we find that persons had houses and farms, and even woods, in
    the very centre of the King’s forests; and the charter provides that
    they may there, on their own lands, build mills on the forest
    streams, sink wells, and dig marl-pits, referring, most probably, in
    the last case, to the New Forest, where marl has been used, from
    time immemorial, to manure the land; and, further, that in their own
    woods, even though in the forest, they might keep hawks, and go
    hawking. (See f. 7, sects. xii., xiii.)

    It shows, too, that there was a population who gained their
    livelihood, as to this day, by huckstering, buying and selling small
    quantities of timber, making brushes, and dealing in bark and coal,
    which last article evidently points to the Forest of Dean. (F. 7,
    sect. xiv.)

    We must not imagine that the Charta de Forestâ of Henry III. was
    entirely a series of new privileges. They were, with some notable
    exceptions, simply those rights which had been received from the
    earliest times in compensation for some of the hardships of the
    Forest Laws, and which had been wrested away, probably by Richard or
    John, but which had never been granted to those who dwelt outside
    the Forest. (On this point see especially “Ordinatio Foreste,” 33rd
    Edward I., _Statutes of the Realm_, vol. i. p. 144. And again,
    “Ordinatio Foreste,” 34th Edward I., sect. vi., same volume, p. 149,
    where the rights of pasturage are re-allowed to those who have lost
    it by the recent perambulation made in the twenty-ninth year of the
    King’s reign.)

    I think we may, therefore, gain from these clauses, especially when
    taken in conjunction with those of the Charta de Forestâ of Canute,
    a tolerably correct picture of an ancient forest—that it consisted
    not merely of large timber and thick underwood, a cover for deer,
    but of extensive plains,—still here preserved in the various
    _leys_—grazed over by cattle, with here and there cultivated spots,
    and homesteads inhabited by a poor, but industrious, population.

[41]See chapter ix. p. 97, footnote.

[42]See _Domesday_, as before, p. xxix. b., under Einforde.

[43]See chapters viii. p. 87, and x. p. 114.

[44]The following translation is made from the original in the Record
    Office. Southt Plitai Foreste, A^o viii.^o E. I.^mi “The metes and
    boundaries of the New Forest from the first time it was afforested.
    First, from Hudeburwe to Folkewell; thence to the Redechowe; thence
    to the Bredewelle; thence to Brodenok; thence to the Chertihowe;
    thence to the Brygge; thence to Burnford; thence to Kademannesforde;
    thence to Selney Water; thence to Orebrugge; thence to the Wade as
    the water runs; thence to the Eldeburwe; thence to Meche; thence to
    Redebrugge as the bank of the Terste runs; thence to Kalkesore as
    the sea runs; thence to the Hurste, along the sea-shore; thence to
    Christ Church Bridge as the sea flows; thence as the Avene extends,
    as far as the bridge of Forthingebrugge; thence as the Avene flows
    to Moletone; thence as the Avene flows to Northchardeford and
    Sechemle; and so in length by a ditch, which stretches to
    Herdeberwe.” It is this old natural boundary which, as stated in the
    preface, we have adopted for the limits of the book. A copy of the
    original may be found in the _Journals of the House of Commons_,
    vol. xliv., appendix, p. 574, 1789.

[45]This may also be found, with the perambulation made in the
    twenty-second year of Charles II., in the _Journal of the House of
    Commons_, vol. xliv., appendix, pp. 574, 575, 1789. It is also given
    in Lewis’s _Historical Enquiries upon the New Forest_, appendix ii.
    pp. 174-177.

[46]This is not the place to say more on this most important chapter of
    English history. See, however, on the subject, _The Great Charter:
    and the Charter of the Forest_, by Blackstone, Introduction, pp.
    lx.-lxxii. 1759. For the oppressions which still existed under the
    shelter of the Forest Laws, see the preamble to the “Ordinatio
    Foreste,” 34th Edward I. _Statutes of the Realm_, vol. i. p. 147.

[47]“Quid et quantum temporibus cujuslibet regis nullo modo eis constare
    potest.” The conclusion of the perambulation. Some little difficulty
    attends these perambulations. From _Domesday_, it is certain that
    the Conqueror afforested land on the west of the Avon at
    Holdenhurst, Breamore, and Harbridge. And amongst the MSS of
    Lincoln’s Inn Library we find a copy of a charter of William of
    Scotland, dated, curiously enough, “Hindhop Burnemuth, in meâ Novâ
    Forestâ, 10 Kal. Junii, 1171.” (See Hunter’s “_Three Catalogues_,”
    &c., p. 278, No. 78, 1838.) It would seem, from what Edward’s
    commissioners say, that these afforestations, which had taken place
    since Henry II’s time, were all made inside the actual boundaries of
    the Forest. It has been generally supposed that the perambulation in
    the eighth year of Edward I. was the first ever made of an English
    forest. This is not the case, for in the Record Office, in the Plita
    Foreste de Cōm. Southt LIII^tio R. H. III., No. III., may be found
    the perambulation of a forest in the north of Hampshire.

[48]For a good account of all details connected with the history of the
    New Forest, see the Sub-Report by the Secretary of the Royal New and
    Waltham Forest Commission, _Reports from Commissioners_ (11), vol.
    xxx. pp. 267-309, 1850, and also the Fifth Report of the Land
    Revenue Commissioners in 1789, published July 24th of that year, to
    be found also in the _Journals of the House of Commons_, vol. xliv.
    pp. 552-571.

[49]See “The humble petition of Richard Spencer, Esq., Sir Gervas
    Clifton, Knight and Baronet, and others, to enter upon the New
    Forest and Sherwood Forest,” &c. &c. Record Office. Domestic Series,
    Charles II., No. 8. f. 26, July 21st, 1660.

[50]MSS. prepared by Mr. Record-Keeper Fearnside, quoted in the
    Secretary’s Sub-Report of the Royal New and Waltham Forest
    Commission, _Reports from Commissioners_ (11), vol. xxx. p. 342.

[51]See Grant Book at the Record Office, 1613, vol. 141, p. 127—“4th
    October, a Grant to Richard Kilborne, alias Hunt, and Thomas Tilsby
    (of) the benefitt of all Morefalls within the New Forest, for the
    terme of one and twenty years.”

[52]See “The humble petition of Captayne Walter Neale” for “two thousand
    decayed trees out of the New Forest, in consideracion” of 460_l._,
    which he had advanced to his company engaged in Count Mansfeldt’s
    expedition. Record Office. Domestic Series, No. 184, Feb., 1625, f.
    62.

[53]See warrant from Charles II. to the Lord Treasurer Southampton, that
    “Winefred Wells may take and receive for her own use” King’s Coppice
    at Fawley, and New Coppice and Iron’s Hill Coppice at Brockenhurst.
    Record Office. Domestic Series, No. 96, April 1st, 1664, f. 16.
    Three years before this there had been a petition from a Frances
    Wells “to bestowe upon her and her children for twenty-one yeares
    the Moorefall trees in three walks in the New Forest, ... and seven
    or eight acres of ground, and ten or twelve timber trees, to build a
    habitation.” The petition was referred to Southampton, who wrote on
    the margin, “I conceive this an unfit way to gratify this
    petitioner, for under pretence of such Moorefall trees much waste is
    often committed.” Record Office. Domestic Series, No. 34, April 2nd,
    1661, f. 14. Hence the reason of Charles’s warrant in the case of
    Winefred Wells, as he knew that the Lord Treasurer was so strongly
    opposed to any such grants.

[54]See the report of Peter Pett, one of the King’s master shipwrights,
    “Touching the fforests of Shottover and Stowood.” Record Office.
    Domestic Series, No. 216, f. 56. i. May 10th, 1632. The New Forest,
    however, seems from this report to have been much better in this
    respect.

[55]See “Necessarie Remembrances concerning the preservation of timber,
    &c.” Record Office. Domestic Series. Charles I., No. 229, f. 114.
    Without date, but some time in 1632.

[56]9th and 10th of William III., chap. xxxvi, 1693. An abstract of the
    Act may be found in the _Journals of the House of Commons_, vol.
    xliv., appendix, pp. 576-578.

[57]To show how for years the Forest was neglected and robbed, we find,
    from a survey made in James I.’s reign, 1608, that there were no
    less than 123,927 growing trees fit for felling, and decaying trees
    which would yield 118,000 loads of timber; whilst in Queen Anne’s
    reign, in 1707, only 12,476 are reported as serviceable. See Fifth
    Report of the Land Revenue Commissioners, _Journals of the House of
    Commons_, vol. xliv. p. 563. The waste in James I.’s and Charles
    I.’s time must have been enormous, for from the “Necessarie
    Remembrances” before quoted we find that there were not in 1632 much
    above 2,000 serviceable trees in the whole Forest.

[58]See, as before, Fifth Report of the Land Revenue Commissioners, pp.
    561, 562, and especially the evidence of the under-steward,
    Appendix, 583. As far back as February 20th, 1619, we find that
    James I. gave the Earl of Southampton 1,200_l._ a year as
    compensation for the damage which the enormous quantity of deer in
    the Forest caused to his land. Letter from Gerrard to Carleton, Feb.
    20, 1618/1619, Record Office. Domestic Series, No. 105, f. 120.
    Gilpin (vol. ii. pp. 32, 33, third edition) states that in his day
    two keepers alone robbed the Forest to the value of 50,000_l._

[59]_Journals of the House of Commons_, vol. xlvii. pp. 611-792; vol.
    lv. pp. 600-784.

[60]See the evidence in the _Parliamentary Papers_, 1849, Nos. 513, 538.
    Of the Forest Rights and Privileges, the secretary to the New Forest
    Commission writes: “The present state of the New Forest in this
    respect is little less than absolute anarchy.” (_Reports of
    Commissioners_ (11), vol. xxx. p. 357, 1850.) It should be
    distinctly understood, as was shown in the last chapter, that these
    Rights had their origin as a compensation to those whose lands had
    been afforested by the King, and who were, in consequence, subject
    to the Forest Laws, and the injury done by the deer. Now that the
    injury is no longer sustained, and the exercise of the Prerogative
    has ceased, so ought also the privileges. The Crown, however, has
    not pressed this, and the Rights are thus still enjoyed. _A Register
    of Decisions on Claims to Forest Rights_, with each person’s name,
    and the amount of his privileges, was published in 1858.

[61]The present statistics of the Forest are—Freehold estates, being
    private property, within the Forest boundaries, 27,140 acres;
    copyhold, belonging to her Majesty’s manor of Lyndhurst, 125;
    leasehold, under the Crown, 600; enclosures belonging to the lodges,
    500; freeholds of the Crown, planted, 1,000; woods and wastes of the
    Forest, 63,000: total, 92,365 acres. The value of timber supplied to
    the navy during the last ten years has been, on the average, nearly
    7,000_l._ a year. The receipts for the year ending 31st of March,
    1860, derived from the sale of timber, bark, fagots, marl, and
    gravel, and rent of farms and cottages, &c., were 23,125_l._ 6_s._
    6_d._; whilst the expenses for labour, trees, carriage of timber,
    and salaries, were 12,913_l._ 1_s._ 7_d._; thus showing a
    considerable profit. (From the Thirty-eighth Report of the
    Commissioners of her Majesty’s Woods and Forests.) The management of
    the Forest is now in the hands of a deputy-surveyor, three
    assistants, and eight keepers; whilst four verderers try all cases
    of stealing timber, turf, and furze.

[62]See further, on the condition of the Forest population, chapters xv.
    and xvi. When stripping bark and felling timber in the spring, the
    men can earn considerably more than at other times. The average
    wages are two shillings a day for ordinary labourers, but all work,
    which can be, is done by the piece.

[63]In the _Rolls of Parliament_, vol. i. p. 125, A.D. 1293, 21st Edward
    I., is an account of a vessel, the _All Saints_, “de Hethe juxta
    Novam Forestam,” which, laden with wine from Rochelle, was wrecked
    and plundered on the Cornish coast.

[64]A little beyond Hythe is a good example of Mr. Kemble’s test (see
    the _Saxons in England_, vol. i., Appendix A, p. 481) for
    recognizing the Ancient Mark. To the north lies Eling, the Mark of
    the Ealingas, and in regular succession from it come the various
    hursts, holts, and dens, now to be seen in Ashurst, Buckholt, and
    Dibden. The last village has a very picturesque church, its roof
    completely thatched with ivy, disfigured, however, by a wretched
    spire. In _Domesday_ it possessed a saltern and a fishery, and a
    wood with pannage for six hogs (sylva de 6 porcis). Two hydes were
    taken into the Forest. Eling, at the same time, maintained two
    mills, which paid twenty-five shillings, a fishery and a saltern,
    both free from tax. The manor was bound, in the time of Edward the
    Confessor, to find half-a-day’s entertainment (_firma_) for the
    King. For a curious extract from its parish register, see chapter
    xix. Staneswood (Staneude), which is more southward, also, according
    to _Domesday_, possessed a mill which paid five shillings, and two
    fisheries worth fifty pence. Farther north lies Redbridge, the
    Rodbrige of _Domesday_, which also maintained two mills, rented,
    however, at fifty shillings. This was the Hreutford and Vadum
    Arundinis of Bede, where lived Cynibert the Abbot, who, failing in
    his attempt to save the two sons of Arvald from Ceadwalla, delayed
    their death till he had converted them to Christianity. (Bede,
    _Hist. Eccl._, tom. i., lib. iv., cap. xvi., p. 284, published by
    the English Historical Society.) All these places, with the
    exception of Redbridge, were more or less afforested. The district,
    however, seems to have been by far the most flourishing of any
    adjoining the New Forest, owing, no doubt, to the immigration which
    the various creeks invited, and the remains of salterns still show
    its former prosperity. Next to it came the Valley of the Avon, its
    mills often rented, in _Domesday_, by a payment of the eels caught
    in the river.

[65]Colonel Hammond, Governor of the Isle of Wight, in a letter to the
    Committee of Derby House, dated from Carisbrook Castle, June 25th,
    1648, speaks of “Caushot Castle as a place of great strength.”
    (Peck’s _Desiderata Curiosa_, vol. ii., book ix., p. 383.) In the
    reign of Elizabeth there were stationed here a captain, with a fee
    of one shilling a day; a subaltern with eightpence; four soldiers
    and eight gunners with sixpence each; and a porter with eightpence.
    (Peck’s _Desiderata Curiosa_, vol. i., book ii., p. 66.) And in
    1567, we find the queen ordering “the mountyng of ordinance,”
    probably to pay attention to Philip, who was expected to pass
    through “the narrowe seas.” Record Office. Domestic Series, No. 43,
    Aug. 27, 1567, f. 52.

[66]_The Chronicle._ Ed. Thorpe. Vol. i. p. 24. _Florence._ Ed. Thorpe.
    Vol. i. pp. 3, 4.

[67]Compare his edition of _The Chronicle_, vol. ii. p. 13, with note 1
    at p. 4, vol. i., of _Florence_.

[68]Early English Settlements in Great Britain—_The Proceedings of the
    Archæological Institute_, the Salisbury volume, pp. 56-60. It is, of
    course, not without much consideration that I presume to differ from
    Dr. Guest; but surely the passages quoted from Bede refer to nearly
    200 years after the arrival of Cerdic and his nephews, Stuf and
    Wihtgar, when their descendants would have been sure to have crossed
    over, finding the east side far richer than the cold, barren
    district where the New Forest afterwards stood.

[69]_The Early and Middle Ages of England_, p. 56, foot-note. I may,
    perhaps, add, that Camden also placed it at Yarmouth; Carte, at
    Charmouth, in Dorsetshire; and Milner, at Hengistbury Head. Gibson,
    with some others, in his edition of _The Chronicle_ (under _nominum
    locorum explicatio_, pp. 19, 20), alone seems to have fixed on this
    spot. Lappenburg, however, says that the site is no longer known.
    _England under the Anglo-Saxon Kings._ Ed. Thorpe, p. 107.

[70]In a letter of Southampton’s to Cromwell, 17th September, 1539
    (_State Papers_, vol. i. p. 617), it is called Calsherdes; whilst in
    another letter of his, also to Cromwell (_Ellis’s Letters_, second
    series; vol. ii. p. 87), he writes Calshorispoynte. Leland, in his
    _Itinerary_ (Ed. Hearne, second edition, vol. iii., p. 94, f. 78),
    speaks of both “Cauldshore” and “Caldshore Castelle;” and again (p.
    93, f. 77), calls it Cawshot, as it is also spelt in Baptista
    Boazio’s Map of the Isle of Wight, 1591; whilst in the State papers
    of Elizabeth we find Calshord. (Record Office. Domestic Series, No.
    43, f. 52. Aug. 27th, 1567.) I give these examples to show the
    number of variations through which the name has passed. No form is
    too grotesque for a corruption to assume. How names become
    corrupted, let me give an instance in the word Hagthorneslad (from
    the Old-English “hagaþorn;” a hawthorn), as it is written in the
    perambulation of the Forest in the twenty-ninth year of Edward I.,
    which in Charles II.’s time is spelt Haythorneslade, thus losing its
    whole significance, although to this day the word “hag” is used in
    the Forest for a “haw,” or “berry.”

[71]The simple termination “ore”—“ora,” and not “oar,” as spelt in the
    Ordnance Map, may be found within a stone’s-throw of Calshot, in Ore
    Creek.

[72]See previously, chapter iv. p. 40, foot-note.

[73]The derivation of Leap as given in the text is very
    doubtful.—_errata_

[74]At the date of the Dauphin’s leaving England, William de Vernon was
    dead, which makes his embarkation at Leap less probable. Neither
    Roger of Wendover (vol. iv. p. 32. Ed. Coxe), nor Walter Hemingburgh
    (vol. i. p. 259. Ed. Hamilton), nor Ralph Coggeshale (_Chronicon,
    Anglicanum Bouquet Recueil des Historiens des Gaules et de la
    France_, tom. xviii. p. 113 C.), nor the _Chronicon Turonense_ (in
    the _Veterum Scriptorum Amplissima Collectio_ of Martène and Durand,
    tom. v. p. 1059 B), nor Rymer’s _Fœdera_ (“De salvo conductu Domini
    Ludovici,” tom. i. p. 222), say anything of the place of
    embarkation.

[75]I believe on that of the Oglander MSS. in the possession of the Earl
    of Yarborough, but which I have never seen. Neither the _Iter
    Carolinum_, Herbert’s _Memoirs_ (London, 1572, p. 38), Huntington’s
    account (same volume, p. 160), Berkeley’s _Memoirs_ (second edition,
    1702, p. 65), _The Ashburnham Narrative_ (London, 1830, vol. ii. p.
    119), nor Whalley’s letter in Peck’s _Desiderata Curiosa_ (tom. ii.,
    lib. ix., pp. 374, 375), nor Hammond’s, in Rushworth’s _Collection_
    (part iv., vol. ii., p. 874), mention the place, though the latter
    would seem to indicate that the King sailed direct from Tichfield to
    Cowes. Ashburnham and Berkeley had, we know from Berkeley
    (_Memoirs_, same edition as before, p. 57) and Ludlow (_Memoirs_,
    1771, p. 93), previously gone by Lymington to the Island.

[76]The road is marked in the map which accompanies Dr. Guest’s paper on
    “The Belgic Ditches.” _The Archæological Journal_, vol. viii. p.
    143.

[77]As the passage is so important, I give it in full:—Ἀποτυποῦντες δ’
    εἰς ἀστραγάλων ῥυθµοὺς κοµίζουσιν εἴς τινα νῆσον προκειµένην µὲν τῆς
    Βρεττανικῆς, ὀνοµαζοµένην δὲ Ἴκτιν. κατὰ γὰρ τὰς ἀµπώτεις
    ἀναξηραινοµένου τοῦ µεταξὺ τόπου ταῖς ἁµάξαις εἰς ταύτην κοµίζουσι
    δαψιλῆ τὸν καττίτερον. Ἴδιον δέ τι συµβαίνει περὶ τὰς πλησίον νήσους
    τὰς µεταξὺ κειµένας τῆς τε Εὐρώπης καὶ τῆς Βρεττανικῆς. Κατὰ µὲν γὰρ
    τὰς πληµµυρίδας τοῦ µεταξὺ πόρου πληρουµένου νῆσοι φαίνονται, κατὰ
    δὲ τὰς ἀµπώτεις ἀποῤῥεούσης τῆς θαλάττης καὶ πολὺν τόπον
    ἀναξηραινούσης θεωροῦνται χεῤῥόνησοι.—Lib. v., cap. xxii., vol. i.,
    p. 438. Ed. Dindorf. Leipsic, 1828-31. Pliny, as Wesseling remarks,
    in his note on this passage, quoted by Dindorf, vol. iv. p. 421, by
    some mistake, makes the Isle of Wight (Mictis) six days’ sail from
    England. See Sir G. C. Lewis’s _Astronomy of the Ancients_, chap.
    viii., sect. iii. p. 453.

[78]As before, sect. iv. p. 462.

[79]_The South-Western Parts of Hampshire_, vol. ii. pp. 5, 6, 1793.

[80]For an account of the barrows on Beaulieu Heath, see ch. xvii.

[81]Dugdale’s _Monasticon Anglicanum_. Ed 1825, vol. v., p. 682. Num.
    ii. See _Chronica de Kirkstall_. Brit. Mus. Cott. MSS. Domitian. A.
    xii., ff. 85, 86. The cause of John’s enmity against the Cistercian
    Order may be gathered from Ralph Coggeshale, _Chronicon Anglicanum_,
    as before in Bouquet, _Recueil des Historiens des Gaules et de la
    France_, tom. xviii. pp. 90, 91.

[82]_Carta Fundationis per Regem Johannem_, given in Dugdale (Ed. 1825,
    vol. v. p. 683); and _Confirmacio Regis Edwardi tertii super cartas
    Regis Johannis_, Brit. Mus., Bib. Cott. Nero, A. xii., No. v., ff.
    8-15, quoted in Warner (_South-West Parts of Hampshire_, vol. ii.,
    Appendix, pp. 7-14). There are, however, no less than three dates
    given for its foundation. The _Annals of Parcolude_, according to
    Tanner (_Notitia Monastica_, Ed. Nasmyth, Hampshire, No. vi.
    foot-note _h_), say 1201, which is manifestly wrong; whilst John of
    Oxnede, better known as the chronicler of St. Benet’s Abbey at Hulme
    (_Chronica._ Ed. Ellis, p. 107), with the _Chronicon de Hayles et
    Aberconwey_ (Brit. Mus., Harl. MS., No. 3725, f. 10), and Matthew
    Paris, according to Dugdale, say respectively 1204 and 1205, though
    I have not been able to verify the last reference.

[83]_Roger of Wendover._ English Historical Society. Ed. Coxe, vol. iii.
    p. 344.

[84]See the previous chapter, pp. 57, 58, foot-note.

[85]Curiously enough, as Warner remarks (vol. i. 267), Matthew Paris
    gives two dates for the dedication, the first 1246 (_Hist. Angl._,
    tom. i. p. 710, Ed. Wats., London, 1640); and the second (p. 770)
    1249; not, however, 1250, as Warner says, and who, followed by all
    later writers, totally misunderstands the passage, which means that,
    although the abbot spent so large a sum, yet the King would not
    remit him the fine he had incurred by trespass in the Forest,—“Nec
    tamen idcirco aliquatenus pepercit rex, quin maximum censum solveret
    illi pro transgressione quam dicebatur regi fecisse in occupatione
    Forestæ.”

[86]See Matthew Paris, in praise of the Cistercian Order. Same edition
    as before, tom. i. p. 916.

[87]Not Margaret of Anjou, as the common accounts say, who, landing at
    Weymouth, took refuge at Cerne Abbey. See _Historie of the Arrival
    of Edward IV. in England_, pp. 22, 23, printed for the Camden
    Society, 1838; and Hollinshed’s _Chronicles_, vol. iii. p. 685; and
    _Speed_, B. ix. p. 866. Hall, however (_The Union of the Families of
    Lancaster and York_, p. 219), with Grafton, in his prose
    continuation of Hardyng (Ed. Ellis, 1812, p. 457), says it was to
    Beaulieu that Margaret fled. But they are evidently mistaken, as
    Speed and Hollinshed, and the explicit and circumstantial narrative
    of the author of the _Historie_, show.

[88]The following list of books at Beaulieu, taken by Leland (_Collect.
    de Rebus Brit._, vol. iv. p. 149), just before the dissolution, will
    show what was in those days an average ecclesiastical
    library:—“_Eadmerus de Vitâ Anselmi, et Vitâ Wilfridi Episcopi._
    _Stephanus super Ecclesiasticum, Libros Regum, et Parabolas
    Salomonis._ _Joannes Abbas de Fordâ super Cantica Canticorum._
    _Damascenus de Gestis Barlaam eremitæ, et Josaphat regis Indiæ._
    _Libellus Candidi Ariani_” (most probably the _De Generatione
    Divinâ_). “_Libellus Victorini, rhetoris, contra Candidum_” (the
    _Confutatorium Candidi Ariani_, written against the preceding work).
    “_Tres libri Claudiani de Statu Animæ ad Sidonium Apollinarem._
    _Gislebertus super Epistolas Pauli. Prosper de Vitâ contemplativâ et
    activâ._”

[89]_Ellis’s Letters_, second series, vol. ii. p. 87. For Henry VIII.’s
    enforcement of Wolsey’s levies on Beaulieu, see _State Papers_, vol.
    i., part ii., p. 383.

[90]Accounts of this palace—probably, as Mr. Walcott says, the King’s
    hunting lodge—may be found in the _Proceedings of the Archæological
    Institute_, 1846, p. 32, and the Rev. Makenzie Walcott’s _Church and
    Conventual Arrangement_, p. 115.

[91]Her remains were lately discovered near the high altar, with part of
    the inscription on her gravestone. (See the Rev. F. W. Baker’s
    account in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_, vol. ccxiv. p. 63.) A carved
    head with a crown in the refectory preserves the memory of her
    husband, crowned at Aix-la-Chapelle King of the Romans, and whose
    heart was buried, in a marble vase, beside his wife. (Leland, as
    before, iv. 149.) Tradition says that Eleanor of Acquitaine was also
    buried here, but she lies with her husband at Fontevraud.

[92]Warner (vol. i. 255) mentions that in his time there was still
    brandy in the steward’s cellars made from the vines growing on the
    spot. _Domesday_ gives several entries of wines (see Ellis’s
    _Introduction_, vol. i. pp. 116, 117), though none in the Forest
    district. But the term ‘Vineyards’ is still frequently found
    hereabouts as the name of fields generally marked by a southern
    slope, as at Beckley and Hern, near Christchurch, showing how common
    formerly was the cultivation of the vine, first introduced into
    England by the Romans.

[93]In Brit. Mus., Harl. MS. 892, f. 40 _b_, is an extract from a most
    interesting letter written in 1648, describing the state of the
    refectory, which seems, with the exception of the alterations made
    in 1746, to have been much the same as at present.

[94]Corrected from “the injunction which the Bishop of Hippo gives to
    the canons of his own order”—_errata_

[95]Quoted from Dugdale’s _Monasticon Anglicanum_, by Warner, vol. i. p.
    249.

[96]It is pleasant to have to add that the present noble owner, the Duke
    of Buccleuch, has shown not only good taste and judgment in the
    restoration of the guest-house and the excavation of the church, but
    a wise liberality in throwing the grounds open to the public.

[97]In Parker’s _Glossary of Architecture_ is given a list of some of
    these old barns. Vol. i. pp. 240, 241.

[98]Some curious leaden pipes, soldered only on one side, were dug up
    close by, which are worth seeing, as they show how late the process
    of running hollow lead pipes was invented. The earthenware pipes
    found with them are as good as any which are now made. At Otterwood
    Farm, on the other side of the Exe, pavement and tiles have also
    been discovered.

[99]The chapel was standing in Warner’s time. _South-Western Parts of
    Hampshire_, vol. i. pp. 232, 233.

[100]In Brit. Mus., Bib. Cott., Nero, A. xii., No. vii. f. 20 _a b_, is
    a copy of a Bull from Alexander I., giving permission to all the
    Cistercian Houses to hold service at their granges.

[101]Even Layton saw their kindness, and pleaded for the poor wretches
    whom they had protected. Letter regarding Beaulieu Sanctuary from
    Layton to Cromwell, _Ellis’s Letters_, third series, vol. iii. pp.
    72, 73.

[102]Blount’s _Fragmenta Antiquitatis_. Ed. Beckwith, p. 80, 1815.
    _Testa de Nevill_, p. 235 a (118). We know, however, that our
    forefathers, long before this, possessed beds, or rather cots, hung
    round with rich embroidered canopies. For their general love, too,
    of comfort and personal ornament and dress, we need go no further
    than to Chaucer’s description of “Richesse,” in his _Romaunt of the
    Rose_. Englishmen, however, were still then, as now, ever ready to
    lead a rough life if necessary, and to make their toil their
    pleasure.

[103]In that portion of it which comes under the title of “In Forestâ et
    circa eam.” See chap. iii. p. 31.

[104]All over England did the church towers serve as landmarks, alike in
    the fen and forest districts. Lincolnshire and Yorkshire can show
    plenty of such steeples. At St. Michael’s at York, to this hour, I
    believe, at six every morning, is rung the bell whose sound used to
    guide the traveller through the great forest of Galtres; whilst at
    All Saints, in the Pavement, in the same city, is shown the lantern,
    which every night used to serve as a beacon.

[105]The following measurements may have some interest, and can be
    compared with those of the oaks and beeches in the Forest, given in
    chap. ii. p. 16, foot-note:—Circumference of the oak, twenty-two
    feet eight inches. Yew, seventeen feet. An enormous yew, completely
    hollow, however, stands in Breamore churchyard, measuring
    twenty-three feet four inches. There are certainly no yews in the
    Forest so large as these; and their evidence would further show that
    at all events the Conqueror did not destroy the churchyards. As
    here, too, there remains some Norman work in the doorway of Breamore
    church.

[106]For some account of these barrows, see chapter xvii.

[107]The word is from the French _merise_. At Wood Green, in the
    northern part of the Forest, a “merry fair” of these half-wild
    cherries is held once a week during the season, probably similar to
    that of which Gower sung.

[108]An objection, that the lime-tree was not known so early in England,
    has been taken to this derivation. This is certainly a mistake. In
    that fine song of the Battle of Brunanburh, we find—

        “Bordweal clufan
        Heowan heaþolinde
        Hamora lafan.”
                          (_The Chronicle._ Ed. Thorpe. Vol. i. p. 200.)

    The “geolwe lind” was sung of in many a battle-piece. Again, as
    Kemble notices (_The Saxons in England_, vol. i., Appendix A, p.
    480), we read in the _Cod. Dip._, No. 1317, of a marked linden-tree.
    (See, also, same volume, book i., chap. ii., p. 53, foot-note.)
    Then, too, we have the Old-English word _lindecole_, the tree being
    noted for making good charcoal, as both it and the dog-wood are to
    this day. Any “Anglo-Saxon” dictionary will correct this notion, and
    names of places, similarly compounded, are common throughout
    England.

[109]The entry in _Domesday_ (facsimile of the part relating to
    Hampshire, photo-zincographed at the Ordnance Survey, 1861, p. iv.
    a) is as follows:—“In Bovere Hundredo. Ipse Rex tenet Linhest.
    Jacuit in Ambresberie de firmâ Regis. Tunc, se defendebat pro ij
    hidis. Modo, Herbertus forestarius ex his ij hidis unam virgatam
    (tenet), et pro tanto geldat; aliæ sunt in forestâ. Ibi modo nichil,
    nisi ij bordarii. Valet x solidos. Tempore Regis Edwardi valuit vi.
    libras.” It is worth noticing that Lyndhurst is here put by itself,
    and not with Brockenhurst and Minestead, and other neighbouring
    places under “In Novâ Forestâ et circa eam;” a clear proof, which
    might be gathered from other entries, that the survey was not
    completed.

[110]Blount’s _Fragmenta Antiquitatis_. Ed. Beckwith, p. 183. 1815. Here
    the place is called Lindeshull.

[111]Let me especially call attention to the exquisite carving of some
    thorns and convolvuluses in the chancel. It is a sad pity that this
    part of the church should be disfigured by glaring theatrical
    candlesticks and coarse gaudy Birmingham candelabra.

[112]I have only seen but the slightest portion of this fresco, so that
    it is impossible to properly judge of even the merits of this part.
    No criticism is true which does not consider a work of Art as a
    whole. At present, the angel with outstretched hands, full of
    nervous power and feeling, seems to me very admirable, though the
    position and meaning of the cloaked and clinging figure below is, at
    the first glance, difficult to make out; but this will doubtless, as
    the picture proceeds, become clear. The richness, however, of the
    colouring can even now be seen under the enormous disadvantage of
    being placed beneath the strong white glare of light which pours in
    from the east window. Further, Mr. Leighton must be praised for his
    boldness in breaking through the old conventionalities of Art, and
    giving us here the owl as a symbol of sloth, and the wretchedness it
    produces.

[113]_Herbert’s Memoirs of Charles I._, p. 95.

[114]William of Malmesbury: _Gesta Regum Anglorum_. Ed. Hardy, tom. ii.,
    lib. iv., sect. 333, p. 508.

[115]Vitalis: _Historia Eccl._, pars. iii., lib. x., cap. xii., in
    Migne: _Patrologiæ Cursus_, tom. clxxxviii. pp. 751, 752; where
    occurs (pp. 750, 751) a most remarkable sermon, on the wrongs and
    woes of England, preached at St. Peter’s Abbey, Shrewsbury, on St.
    Peter’s Day, by Fulchered, first abbot of Shrewsbury, a man
    evidently of high purpose, ending with these ominous words:—“The bow
    of God’s vengeance is bent against the wicked. The arrow, swift to
    wound, is already drawn out of the quiver. Soon will the blow be
    struck; but the man who is wise to amend will avoid it.” Surely this
    is more than a general denunciation. On the very next day William
    the Red falls.

[116]Malmesbury, as before quoted, p. 509. Vitalis, however, in Migne,
    as before, p. 751, says there were some others.

[117]William of Malmesbury says nothing about the tree, from which
    nearly all modern historians represent the arrow as glancing.
    Vitalis, as before, p. 751, expressly states that it rebounded from
    the back of a beast of chase (_fera_), apparently, by the mention of
    bristles (_setæ_), a wild-boar. Matthew Paris (Ed. Wats., tom. i. p.
    54) first mentions the tree, but his narrative is doubtful.

[118]Malmesbury, as before, p. 509. The additions that it was a
    charcoal-cart, as also the owner’s name, are merely traditional.

[119]The _Chronicle_. Ed. Thorpe, vol. i. p. 364.

[120]Vitalis, as before, p. 752. Neither William of Malmesbury nor
    Vitalis, who go into details, mentions the spot where the King was
    killed. The _Chronicle_ and Florence of Worcester most briefly
    relate the accident, though Florence adds that William fell where
    his father had destroyed a chapel. (Ed. Thorpe, vol. ii. p. 45).
    Henry of Huntingdon (_Historiarum_, lib. vii., in Saville’s
    _Scriptores Rerum Anglicarum_, p. 378) says but little more,
    dwelling only on the King’s wickedness and the supernatural
    appearance of blood. Matthew Paris brings a bishop on the scene, as
    explaining another dream of the King’s, and gives the King’s speech
    of “trahe arcum, diabole” to Tiril, which has a certain mad humour
    about it, as also the incident of the tree, and the apparition of a
    goat (_Hist. Major. Angl._ Ed. Wats., pp. 53, 54), which are not to
    be found in _Roger of Wendover_ (_Flores Hist._ Ed. Coxe, tom. ii.,
    pp. 157-59), and therefore open to the strongest suspicion. Matthew
    of Westminster (_Flores Hist._ Ed. 1601, p. 235) follows, in most of
    his details, William of Malmesbury. Simon of Durham (_De Gestis
    Regum Anglorum_, in Twysden’s _Historian Anglicanæ Scriptores
    Decem_, p. 225), as, too, Walter de Hemingburgh (Ed. Hamilton, vol.
    i. p. 33), and Roger Hoveden (_Annalium Pars Prior_, in Saville’s
    _Rerum Anglicarum Scriptores_, pp. 467, 468), copy Florence of
    Worcester. So, too, in various ways, with all the later writers, who
    had access to no new sources of information. Peter Blois, however,
    in his continuation of _Ingulph_ (Gales’s _Rerum Anglicarum
    Scriptores_, tom. i. pp. 110, 111; Oxford, 1684) is more vivid, and
    adds that the dogs were chasing the stags up a hill; but his whole
    book is very doubtful, and his account in this particular instance
    is irreconcilable with the others. Gaimar (_L’Estorie des Engles._
    Ed. Wright. Caxton Society, pp. 217-224), who says that the King was
    hunting near Brockenhurst (Brokehest), gives a still more detailed
    account, but we are met by the same difficulties. Of later writers,
    Leland, in his _Itinerary_ (vol. vi. f. 100, p. 88) states that the
    King fell at Thorougham, where in his time there was still a chapel
    standing, evidently meaning Fritham, called Truham in _Domesday_.
    Gilpin (_Forest Scenery_, vol. i. p. 166) mentions a similar
    tradition; so that there is a very reasonable doubt as to the spot
    itself being where the Stone stands, especially since, with the
    exception of the vague remark of Florence, none of the best
    Chroniclers say one word about the place. Thierry, in many minor
    particulars, follows Knyghton, whose authority is of little value,
    and I have therefore omitted all reference to him.

[121]Very much against my inclination, I give a sketch of the iron case
    of the Stone, which the artist has certainly succeeded in making as
    beautiful as it is possible to do. The public would not, I know,
    think the book complete without it. It stands, however, rather as a
    monument of the habit of that English public, who imagine that their
    eyes are at their fingers’ ends, and of a taste which is on a par
    with that of the designer of the post-office pillar-boxes, than of
    the Red King’s death, for the spot where he fell is, as we have seen
    from the previous note, by no means certain. We must, too, remember
    that there is no mention made by the Chroniclers of Castle Malwood,
    but the context in Vitalis, as also the late hour mentioned by
    Malmesbury when William went out to hunt, show that he was at the
    time staying somewhere in the Forest.

[122]See, as before, Lappenberg’s _History of England under the Norman
    Kings_, pp. 266-8; and Sharon Turner’s _History of England during
    the Middle Ages_, vol. iv. pp. 166-8.

[123]“Tabidi aëris nebulâ” are the words of William of Malmesbury.
    (_Gesta Regum Anglorum._ Ed. Hardy, tom. ii., lib. iii., sect. 275,
    pp. 454, 455.)

[124]_Gul. Gemeticensis de Ducibus Normannorum_, lib. vii., cap. ix. To
    be found in Camden’s _Anglica Scripta_, p. 674.

[125]This seems to be the meaning of a not very clear passage in William
    of Malmesbury. Same edition as before, p. 455. Vitalis, however,
    _Historia Ecclesiastica_, pars 3, lib. x., cap. xi. (in _Migne,
    Patrologiæ Cursus Completus_, tom. clxxxviii. pp. 748, 749), says he
    was shot by a knight, who expiated the deed by retiring to a
    monastery, and speaks in high terms both of him and his brother
    William, who fell in one of the Crusades.

[126]Ed. Thorpe, vol. ii. p. 45. Lewis, in his _Topographical Remarks on
    the New Forest_, pp. 57-62, is hopelessly wrong with regard to
    Richard, the son of Robert, a grandson of the Conqueror, whom he
    calls Henry, and confounds at p. 62 with his uncle; and makes both
    William of Malmesbury and Baker (see his _Chronicle_, p. 37, Ed.
    1730) say quite the reverse of what they write.

[127]As I am not writing a History of England during this period, my
    space will not permit me to enter into those details which, when
    viewed collectively, carry so much weight in an argument; but at all
    events, it will be well for some of my readers to bear in mind the
    character of William II., who in a recent work has lately been
    elevated into a hero. Without any of his father’s ability or power
    of statesmanship, he inherited all his vices, which he so improved
    that they became rather his own. From having no occupation for his
    mind, he sank more and more into licentiousness and lust. (“Omni se
    immunditiâ deturpabat,” is the strong expression of John of
    Salisbury. _Life of Anselm_, part ii. ch. vii., in Wharton’s _Anglia
    Sacra_, tom. ii. p. 163. See, also, Suger, _Vita Lud. Grossi Regis_,
    cap. i., in Bouquet: _Recueil des Historiens des Gaules et de la
    France_, tom. xii. p. 12. D. E.) Being lustful, he naturally became
    cruel; not as his father was, on, at least, the plea of necessity,
    but that he might enjoy a cultivated pleasure in gloating over the
    sufferings of others. From being cruel, too, he became, in its worst
    sense, an infidel; not from any pious scruple or deep conviction,
    but simply that he might indulge his passions. (See that fearful
    story of the trial of forty Englishmen told in Eadmer: _Hist. Nov._,
    lib. ii., p. 48, Ed. 1633, which illustrates in a twofold manner
    both his cruelty and his atheism.)

    To a total want of eloquence he joined the most inveterate habit of
    stammering, so that, when angry, he could barely speak. His physical
    appearance, too, well harmonized with his moral and mental
    deformities. His description reads rather like that of a fiend than
    of a man. Possessing enormous strength, he was small, thick-set, and
    ill-shaped, having a large stomach. His face was redder than his
    hair, and his eyes of two different colours. His vices were, in
    fact, branded on his face. (Malmesbury, Ed. Hardy, tom. ii., lib.
    iv., sect. 321, p. 504, whom I have literally translated.)

    Let us look, too, at the events of his reign. Crime after crime
    crowds upon us. His first act was to imprison those whom his father
    had set free. He loaded the Forest Laws with fresh horrors.
    Impartial in his cruelty, he plundered both castle and monastery
    (_The Chronicle_. Ed. Thorpe, vol. i. p. 364). He burnt out the eyes
    of the inhabitants of Canterbury, who had taken the part of the
    monks of St Augustin’s. At the very mention of his approach the
    people fled (Eadmer: _Hist. Nov._, lib. iv. p. 94). Unable himself
    to be everywhere, his favourites, Robert d’Ouilly harried the
    middle, and Odineau d’Omfreville the north of England; whilst his
    Minister, Ralph Flambard, committed such excesses that the people
    prayed for death as their only deliverance (_Annal. Eccles.
    Winton._, in Wharton’s _Anglia Sacra_, tom. i. p. 295).

    As _The Chronicle_ impressively says, “In his days all right fell,
    and all wrong in the sight of God and of the world rose.” Norman and
    English, friend and foe, priest and layman, were united by one
    common bond of hatred against the tyrant. It could only be expected
    that as his life was, so his death would be; that he would be
    betrayed by his companions, and in his utmost need deserted by his
    friends.

[128]Eadmer: _Vita Anselmi_, Ed. Paris, 1721, p. 23. John of Salisbury:
    _Vita Anselmi_, cap. xi.; in Wharton’s _Anglia Sacra_, tom. ii. p.
    169. William of Malmesbury: Ed. Hardy, vol. ii., b. iv., sect. 332,
    p. 507; and Roger of Wendover, Ed. Coxe, vol. ii. pp. 159, 160.

[129]Vitalis: _Historia Ecclesiastica_, pars 3, lib. x.; in Migne,
    _Patrologiæ Cursus Completus_, tom. clxxxviii., pp. 750 D, 751 A.
    See previously, p. 94, foot-note.

[130]Eadmer: _Vita Anselmi_, Ed. Paris, 1721, p. 6.

[131]Baxter, in his Preface to his _Glossarium Antiquitatum
    Britannicarum_, Ed. 1719, p. 12, entirely misquotes Alanus de
    Insulis (see _Prophetica Anglicana Merlini Ambrosii cum septem
    libris explanationum Alani de Insulis_. Frankfort, 1603. Lib. ii.
    pp. 68, 69), and completely misunderstands the passage. Alanus,
    however (p. 69), seems to have no doubt that the King fell by
    treachery,—“spiculo invidiæ,” as was foretold by Merlin, though he
    gives no other reason; and which by itself, resting on nothing
    further, would carry no weight. His account, though, of the general
    detestation of the Red King immediately before his death, as also
    the conversation of Hugh, Abbot of Cluny, with Anselm (p. 68), is
    very suggestive, especially by the way in which it is introduced.
    Alanus must have possessed far too shrewd an intellect to have
    believed in Merlin; though it might have suited his purpose to have
    appeared to have so done, as a veil and a blind, so that he might
    better say what his high position and authority would not in any
    other form have well permitted, but which still give to many points,
    as here, enormous significance and weight.

    Besides Gaimar and Alanus, Nicander Nucius also hints at treachery
    (_Second Book of Travels_, published by the Camden Society, pp. 34,
    35), but his account is too vague to be of any service. We should,
    however, constantly bear in mind, with Lappenberg, that the best
    authority, _The Chronicle_, simply relates that the King was shot at
    the chase by one of his friends, without any allusion to an
    accident. Not one word or fact else is given, except the appearance
    of a pool of blood in Berkshire (at Finchhamstead, according to
    William of Malmesbury), which we know, from other sources, was
    supposed to foretell some calamity, and which phenomenon science now
    resolves into merely some species of _alga_, probably either
    _Palmella cruenta_ or _Hæmatococcus sanguineus_. Eadmer, with some
    others, in his _Historia Novorum_, lib. ii. (Migne: _Patrologiæ
    Cursus Completus_, tom. clix. p. 422 B) mentions a report, prevalent
    at the time, that the King accidentally stumbled on an arrow. Then
    follows, in the very next book (Migne, as before, p. 423 B), a
    singular passage, to be found also in his _Life of Anselm_, book ii.
    ch. vi. (Migne, as before, tom. clviii. p. 108 D), where, on the
    news of the Red King’s death, Anselm bursts into tears, and, with
    sobs, cries, “Quod si hoc efficere posset, multo magis eligeret se
    ipsum corpore, quam illud, sicut erat, mortuum esse.” Whether this
    wish sprang from the effects of some pangs of conscience as to
    William’s death, or from an honourable feeling of natural emotion
    under the circumstances, as suggested by Sharon Turner, it is hard
    to determine. From John of Salisbury (_Vita Anselmi_, pars ii., cap.
    xi., in Wharton’s _Anglia Sacra_, tom. ii. p. 169), it would seem
    that Anselm thought that he was the direct cause, through God, of
    his death. Wace, quoted by Sharon Turner (vol. iv. p. 169), says
    that a woman prophesied to Henry his speedy accession to the throne;
    but I am not inclined to put any faith in this story, especially as
    Wace’s account is in poetry, where a prophetical speech might after
    the event be given dramatically true, without being so historically.
    The same criticism must be applied to the still more detailed
    account of Gaimar, who vaguely accuses Tiril of conspiracy. No one,
    however, was likely to declare, for so many reasons, that the King
    was murdered. We must not expect such a statement, or even look for
    it in the Chroniclers; we must seek for it in the contradictions,
    and absurdities, and prophecies which have gathered round the event.

[132]Let no one be startled at the fact of ecclesiastics being
    assassins. We have on record during this very reign the deliberate
    confessions by monks of plots to murder their abbots, deeming they
    were doing God a service. We must further keep steadily in mind that
    prelates then united in their own persons both sacred and military
    offices. How much Henry was under the influence of the monasteries
    his marriage and his various appointments show. Their power was
    enormous. In fact, I believe that the Conqueror owed his success as
    much to them as Rufus his death, and Henry his crown.

[133]At the time of his death he held in his hand the archbishopric of
    Canterbury, the bishoprics of Winchester and Salisbury, besides
    eleven abbacies, all let out to rent. _The Chronicle_. Ed. Thorpe,
    vol. i. p. 364.

[134]_The Chronicle_. Ed. Thorpe, vol. i. p. 356.

[135]William of Malmesbury, Ed. Hardy, tom. ii., lib. iv., sect. 306, p.
    488.

[136]The same, tom. ii., lib. iv., sect. 319, p. 502.

[137]_The Chronicle_. Ed. Thorpe, vol. i. p. 362.

[138]Suger: _Vita Lud. Grossi Regis_, cap. i. (to be found, as before,
    in Bouquet, tom. xii. p. 12 E.) See, also, John of Salisbury: _Vita
    Anselmi_; Migne: _Patrologiæ Cursus Completus_, tom. cxcix., cap.
    xii., p. 1031 B.; or, as before, in Wharton’s _Anglia Sacra_, tom.
    ii. p. 170.

[139]Quoted by Sharon Turner: _History of England_, vol. iv. p. 167.
    See, as before, Migne: tom. cxcix., cap. xii., p. 1031 B.

[140]The word, however, is going out of use, and is more generally now
    softened into hill. We meet with it in the perambulation of the
    Forest made in the twenty-second year of Charles II.—“The same hedge
    reaches Barnfarn from the right hand, right by Helclose, as far as
    to a certain corner called Hell Corner.”

[141]For the geology of this part of the Forest see chapter xx.

[142]_Testa de Nevill_, p. 237 b. 130. See, also, p. 235 b. (118).
    Throughout the Forest, as we have seen at Lyndhurst and
    Brockenhurst, were similar feudal tenures. Some held their lands, as
    the heirs of Cobbe, at Eling, by finding 50; and others, again, as
    Richard de Baudet, at Redbridge, 100 arrows. _Testa de Nevill_, as
    in the first reference; and p. 238 a. (132).

[143]See previous chapter, p. 96, foot-note.

[144]For some account of the contents of these barrows and potteries,
    see chapters xvii. and xviii.

[145]Lewis: _Topographical Remarks on the New Forest_, p. 80, foot-note.
    I have not, however, been able to find his authority. A tradition of
    the sort lingers in the neighbourhood. Blount (_Fragmenta
    Antiquitatis_, Ed. Beckwith, p. 115. 1815) says that Richard
    Carevile held here six librates a year of land in chief of Edward
    I., by finding a sergeant-at-arms for forty days every year in the
    King’s army. See, also, the _Testa de Nevill_, p. 231 (101), No. 3.

[146]Dugdale: _Monasticon Anglicanum_, Ed. 1830, vol. vi., part ii., p.
    761. Leland, however (_Itin._, vol. iii., f. 72, p. 88, Ed. Hearne),
    says it was given to King’s College, Cambridge.

[147]_The Chronicle_. Ed. Thorpe, vol. i. p. 26. _Florence of
    Worcester_, Ed. Thorpe, vol. i. p. 4.

[148]Same edition as before, p. iv. a. Its manor then belonged to that
    of Rockbourne, and was held in demesne by the Conqueror, as it had
    also been by Edward the Confessor. Two hydes and a half, and a wood
    capable of supporting fifty swine, were taken into the Forest. From
    the mention of a priest (_presbyter_), who received twenty shillings
    from some land in the Isle of Wight, there may have been, though by
    no means necessarily, a church, situated, as the old yew would
    perhaps show, in the present churchyard, and of which the Norman
    doorway may be the last remains.

    The Valley of the Avon, as was mentioned in chapter v., p. 51,
    foot-note, appears from its nature to have been, with the exception
    of the east coast, the most flourishing district of any in the
    neighbourhood of the Forest. It is worth, however, noticing that
    many of its mills were rented not only by a money value, but by the
    additional payment of so many eels. Thus at Charford (Cerdeford) the
    mill is rented at 15_s._ and 1,250 eels, and at Burgate (Borgate)
    the mill paid 10_s._ and 1,000 eels, whilst at Ibbesley (Tibeslei)
    the rental was only 10_s._ and 700 eels (_Domesday_, as before, pp.
    xix. a, iv. b, xviii. a). The latter place had two hydes, and
    Burgate its woods and pasture, which maintained forty hogs, taken
    into the Forest; but Charford with its ninety-one acres of
    meadow-land, seems not to have been afforested, which, taken with
    other instances, shows that the best land was, as a rule, spared.

[149]In the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ for 1828, vol. 98, part, ii., p. 17,
    is a sketch of the house, taken fifty years ago, which, with the
    exception of some parts now pulled down, much resembles its present
    condition.

[150]Monmouth, like a second Warbeck, was in all probability on his way
    through the Forest to Lymington, where Dore, the mayor, had raised
    for him a troop of men, and would assist him to embark. At
    Axminster, in Dorsetshire, there is a local MS. record,
    “_Ecclesiastica, or the Book of Remembrance_,” made by some member
    of the Axminster Independent Chapel, of the sufferings of Monmouth’s
    followers, which appears to have been unknown to Macaulay.

[151]There was formerly a cell here, subordinate to the Abbey of Saint
    Saviour le Vicomte in Normandy, to which it was given by William de
    Solariis, A.D. 1163, but dissolved by Henry VI., and its revenues
    annexed to Eton. Tanner’s _Notitia Monastica_, Hants., No. xii. See,
    also, Dugdale’s _Monasticon Anglicanum_, Ed. 1830, vol. vi., part.
    ii., p. 1046.

[152]Same edition as before, p. iv. a. The entry is remarkably
    interesting. Out of its ten hydes, four were taken into the Forest.
    In the six which were left, there dwelt fifty-six villeins,
    twenty-one borderers, six serfs, and one freeman. There were here
    105 acres of meadow, a mill which paid 22_s._, and a church with
    half a hyde of land. On the four hydes which were taken into the
    Forest, fourteen villeins, and six borderers, who had seven
    ploughlands, used to dwell. How very much the woodland preponderated
    over the arable we may tell by the additional entry, that the woods
    maintained 189 hogs, whilst a mill in that part was only assessed at
    30_d._, which facts may help us to form some opinion of the kind of
    soil that was in general afforested. The meadows, as usual, were not
    touched.

[153]See Yarrell’s _History of British Fishes_, vol. ii. pp. 399-401.

[154]On this phenomenon, see Lyell’s _Antiquity of Man_, p. 139.

[155]The Ordnance map here falls into an error, placing Sandford a mile
    too far to the south; whilst it omits the neighbouring village of
    Beckley, the Beceslei of _Domesday_, and “The Great Horse,” a clump
    of firs, so called from its shape, a well-known landmark in the
    Forest, and to the ships at sea, as also “Darrat,” or “Derrit” Lane.

[156]In _Archæologia_, vol. v. pp. 337-40, is a description, illustrated
    with a plan of these entrenchments, together with the adjoining
    barrows, most of which have been opened, but the accounts are very
    scanty and unsatisfactory.

[157]See Dr. Guest on the “Belgic Ditches,” vol. viii. of the
    _Archæological Journal_, p. 145.

[158]Gibson, in his edition of _The Chronicle_—in the “nominum locorum
    explicatio,” p. 50, seems to think that Yttingaford, where peace was
    made between the Danes and Edward, was somewhere in the New Forest,
    deriving the word from Ytene, the old name of the district. Mr.
    Thorpe, however, in his translation of _The Chronicle_, vol. ii. p.
    77, suggests that it may be Hitchen.

[159]_The Chronicle_. Ed. Thorpe, vol. i. p. 178. _Florence of
    Worcester_, Ed. Thorpe, vol. i. pp. 117, 118.

[160]Grose, in his _Antiquities_ (vol. ii., under Christchurch Castle),
    gives the following curious extract from a survey, dated Oct. 1656,
    concerning the duties of Sir Henry Wallop, the governor:—“Mem.: the
    constable of the castle or his deputy, upon the apprehension of any
    felon within the liberty of West Stowesing, to receive the said
    felon, and convey him to the justice, and to the said jail, at his
    own proper costs and charges; otherwise the tything-man to bring the
    said felon, and chain him to the castle-gate, and there to leave
    him. Cattle impounded in the castle, having hay and water, for
    twenty hours, to pay fourpence per foot.” The fee of the Constable
    in the reign of Elizabeth was 8_l._ 0_s._ 9_d._ Peck’s _Desiderata
    Curiosa_, vol. i., book ii., part. 5, p. 71. In the Chamberlain’s
    Books of Christchurch we are constantly meeting with some such entry
    as, “1564, ffor the castel rent for ij yeres—xiij_s._ v_d._” “1593,
    ffor the chiefe rent to the castel—vi_s._ xi_d._”

[161]Descriptions of it will be found in Hudson Turner’s _Domestic
    Architecture of England_, vol. i. pp. 38, 39. Parker’s _Glossary of
    Architecture_, vol. i. p. 167. Grose’s _Antiquities_, vol. ii.
    Hampshire; in whose time it appears to have been cased with dressed
    stones. In the Chamberlain’s Books of the Borough, under the date of
    the sixth year of Edward VI., 1553, we meet with repairs “for the
    house next the castle,” which entry probably refers to some
    buildings belonging to the house, which, according to Grose,
    stretched away in a north-westerly direction to the castle.

[162]_England’s Improvements by Sea and Land._ By Andrew Yarranton. Ed.
    1677, pp. 67, 70.

[163]As we have said, the muniment chest of the Christchurch
    Corporation, like that of all similar towns, is full of interest. It
    contains absolutions from Archbishops to all those who assist in the
    good work of making bridges;—letters from absolute patrons directing
    their clients which way to vote;—bonds from others that they will
    not require any payment from the burgesses, or put the borough to
    any expense;—old privileges of catching eels and lampreys with
    “lyer,” and “hurdells de virgis,” by all of which the past is
    brought before us. So, too, the Chamberlain’s Books are most
    interesting. From them we can learn, year by year, the prices of
    wheat and cattle, the fluctuation of wages, the average condition of
    the day, and both the minutest outward events as also the innermost
    life of the town. The true social history of England is written for
    us in our Chamberlain’s Books. They have unfortunately never been
    made use of as they deserve. Thus let me give a few general
    quotations from those of Christchurch. In 1578 lime was 6_d._ a
    bushel, from which price it fell within two years to 2_d._ Stone for
    building we find about 1_s._ a ton. Wages then averaged, for a
    skilled mechanic, from 7_d._ to 1_s._ a day, and for a labourer,
    4_d._; whilst night-watchmen, in 1597, were only paid 2_d._ Timber,
    contrary to what we should have expected, was comparatively dear.
    Thus in 1588 we find 9_d._ paid for two posts, and 20_d._ for a
    plank and two posts, whilst a few years afterwards a shilling is
    paid for making a new gate. Of course in all these calculations we
    must bear in mind that money was then three times its present value.
    Turning to other matters, we learn that in 1595, “a pottle of claret
    wine and sugar” cost 2_s._, whilst a quart of sack is only 12_d._ In
    1582, a quart of “whyte wine” is 5_d._, and twenty years before this
    a barrel and a half of beer cost 4_d._ Again, in 1562, the fourth
    year of Elizabeth, large salmon, whose weights are not specified,
    appear to have averaged 7_d._ a piece. A load of straw for thatching
    came to 2_s._ 6_d._, and in some cases 3_s._, which in 1550 had been
    as low as 8_d._, and never above 20_d._ Drawing it, or passing it
    through a machine, cost 4_d._; whilst a thatcher received 1_s._
    4_d._ for his labour of putting it on the roof.

    At the same time a load of clay, either for making mortar or for the
    actual material of the walls, the “cob,” or “pug” of the provincial
    dialect, was 5_d._, a price at which it had stood with some slight
    variations for many years.

    To conclude, the smallest things are noted. Thus a thousand “peats,”
    perhaps brought from the Forest, cost, in 1562, 15_d._, whilst a
    load of “fursen,” still the local plural of furse, perhaps also from
    the same place, was 8_d._ Nothing in these accounts escapes notice.
    In 1586 a “coking stole,” the well-known _cathedra stercoris_, the
    Old-English “_scealfing-stol_,” is charged 10_d._; whilst a collar,
    or, as it is elsewhere in the same book called, “an iron choker for
    vagabonds,” cost 14_d._

[164]In _Archæologia_, vol. iv. pp. 117, 118, is a letter from Brander,
    the geologist and antiquary, describing a quantity of spurs and
    bones of herons, bitterns and cocks, found on a part of the monastic
    buildings, showing that the site had been previously occupied.

[165]Holdenhurst had ten hydes and a half taken into the Forest
    (_Domesday_, as before, iv. a). It then possessed a small church,
    and, as we find one mentioned in the charter of Richard de Redvers
    in Henry I.’s reign, we may fairly conclude that this, too, was not
    destroyed by the Conqueror. There were also there fisheries for the
    use of the hall.

[166]_Cartularium Monasterii de Christchurch Twinham._ Brit. Mus., Cott.
    MSS., Tib. D. vi., pars ii., f. 194 a. This chartulary was much
    injured in the fire of 1731, but has been restored by Sir F. Madden.
    Quoted in Dugdale’s _Monasticon Anglicanum_, vol. vi. p. 303, Ed.
    1830.

[167]For further information, especially on the fortunes of the De
    Redvers family, and minor details, which I think would hardly
    interest the general reader, see Brayley’s and Ferrey’s work on the
    Priory of Christchurch, London, 1834, pp. 6, 11, 22: and Warner’s
    _South-west Parts of Hampshire_, vol. ii. pp. 55-65, which,
    notwithstanding some errors, is a most painstaking history.

[168]_Collectanea de Rebus Britannicis_, Ed. Hearne, vol. iv. p. 149.

[169]The possessions of the house were large, and brought in above
    600_l._ a year. Yet we find that the brethren were in debt in every
    direction. At Poole, Salisbury, and Christchurch, they owed 41_l._
    19_s._ 6_d._ for mere necessaries. There was due 24_l._ 2_s._ 8_d._
    to the Recorder of Southampton for wine; and a bill of 8_l._ 13_s._
    2_d._ to a merchant of Poole, for “wine, fish, and bere.”
    Certificate of Monasteries, No. 494, p. 48. Record Office. Quoted by
    Brayley and Ferrey, Appendix No. vi., pp. 9, 10.

[170]Brit. Mus., Bibl. Cott., Cleopatra, E. iv., f. 324 b.

[171]“Petition of John Draper.” Amongst the Miscellaneous MSS. of the
    Treasury of the Exchequer, Record Office.

[172]_Archæologia_, vol. v. pp. 224-29.

[173]I know nothing equal to this last screen in the delicacy of its
    carving, seen in bracket, and canopy, and the flights of angels; in
    the deep feeling especially manifest in the central bracket, with
    the Saviour’s head crowned with thorns, but surrounded with fruit
    and flowers, typical of His sufferings and the world’s benefits; and
    in the grave humour, not out of place, as allegorical of the world’s
    pursuits, which peeps forth in the figures over the two doorways.

[174]Lord Herbert’s _Life and Reyne of King Henry VIII._, p. 468. 1649.
    See, however, Froude: _History of England_, vol. iv. p. 119,
    foot-note.

[175]The year, as was generally the case, is not given to this letter,
    but simply December 2nd. From internal evidence, however, it was
    certainly written in 1539; for we know that the Priory was
    surrendered Nov. 28th of that year. Why, then, two years before her
    death, the commissioners should speak of the “late mother of
    Raynolde pole” I know not.

[176]Below the north transept, part, perhaps, of Edward the Confessor’s
    church, is a vault, which, when opened, was stacked with bones, like
    the carnary crypts at Grantham, in Lincolnshire, and of the
    beautiful church at Rothwell, in Northamptonshire—the “skull
    houses,” to which we so often find reference in the old
    churchwardens’ books.

[177]In the south choir aisle the broken sculptures represent the
    Epiphany, Assumption, and Coronation of the Virgin. Little can be
    said in praise of any of the modern monuments. The best are
    Flaxman’s “Viscountess Fitzharris and her three Children,” and
    Weekes’s “Death of Shelley.” Some of the others should never have
    been permitted to be erected, especially those which disfigure the
    Salisbury chapel. The new stained window at the west end adds very
    much to the beauty of the church.

[178]For further details the student of architecture should consult Mr.
    Brayley and Mr. Ferrey’s work, before referred to, of which a new
    edition is much needed, as also Mr. Ferrey’s paper in the
    _Gentleman’s Magazine_ for Dec., 1861, p. 607, on the naves of
    Christchurch and Durham Cathedral, both built by Flambard, and a
    paper on the rood-screen in the _Archæological Journal_, vol. v. p.
    142; and also a paper read at Winchester, September, 1845, before
    the Archæological Institute, on Christchurch Priory Church, by Mr.
    Beresford Hope, and published in the Proceedings of the Society,
    1846. An excellent little handbook, by the Rev. Makenzie Walcott,
    the Honorary Secretary of the Christchurch Archæological
    Association, may be obtained in the town.

[179]Scott used to admire the _Red King_; but his praise must have been
    far more the result of friendship than of unbiassed criticism. The
    following lines, from Rose’s MS. poem of “Gundimore” (quoted in
    Lockhart’s _Life of Scott_, p. 145, foot-note), are interesting from
    their subject, and at the conclusion, though the idea is borrowed,
    are really fine:—

        “Here Walter Scott has wooed the Northern Muse,
        Here he with me has joyed to walk or cruize;
        And hence has pricked through Ytene’s holt, where we
        Have called to mind how under greenwood tree,
        Pierced by the partner of his ‘woodland craft,’
        King Rufus fell by Tiril’s random shaft.
        Hence have we ranged by Keltic camps and barrows,
        Or climbed the expectant bark, to thread the Narrows
        Of Hurst, bound westward to the gloomy bower
        Where Charles was prisoned in yon island tower.
            * * * * * * *
        Here, witched from summer sea and softer reign,
        Foscolo courted Muse of milder strain.
        On these ribbed sands was Coleridge pleased to pace
        Whilst ebbing seas have hummed a rolling base
        To his rapt talk.”

[180]_Antiquities_, vol. ii., where there is a sketch of the Grange as
    it was in 1777.

[181]For the geology of High Cliff, Barton, and Hordle Cliffs, see
    chapter xx. There are not many fossils in either the grey sand or
    the green clay before you reach the “bunny.” Plenty, however, may be
    found in the top part of the bed immediately above, known as the
    “High Cliff Beds,” and which rise from the shore about a quarter of
    a mile to the east of the stream.

[182]Chewton is not mentioned in _Domesday_. Beckley (Beceslei), which
    is close by, where there was a mill which paid thirty pence, had a
    quarter of its land taken into the Forest; whilst Baishley
    (Bichelei) suffered in the same proportion. Fernhill lost two-thirds
    of its worst land, and Milton (Mildeltune) half a hyde and its
    woods, which fed forty hogs, by which its rental was reduced to
    one-half.

[183]At this point the Marine Beds end, and the Brackish-Water series
    crop up; and then, lastly, the true Fresh-Water shells commence—the
    Paludinæ and Limnææ, with scales of fish, and plates of chelonians,
    and bones of palæotheres, and teeth of dichodons. See, further,
    chapter xx.

[184]See Lappenberg’s _England under the Anglo-Norman Kings_. Ed.
    Thorpe, p. 89.

[185]Yarranton, in that strange but clever work, _England’s Improvement
    by Land and Sea_ (Ed. 1677, pp. 43-63), dwells at length on the
    quantity of iron-stone along the coast, and the advantage of the New
    Forest for making charcoal to smelt the metal. He proposed to build
    two forges and two furnaces for casting guns, near Ringwood, where
    the ore was to be brought up the Avon.

[186]

    “That narrow sea, which we the Solent term,
    Where those rough ireful tides, as in her straights they meet,
    With boisterous shocks and roars each other rudely greet;
    Which fiercely when they charge, and sadly when they make retreat,
    Upon the bulwark forts of Hurst and Calshot beat,
    Then to Southampton run.
                                                  _Polyolbion_, book ii.

[187]Hall’s _Union of the Families of Lancaster and York_, xxxi. year of
    King Henry VIII., ff. 234, 235, London, 1548.

[188]From Peek (_Desiderata Curiosa_, vol. i., b. ii., part iv., p. 66)
    we find that in Elizabeth’s reign the captain received 1_s._ 8_d._ a
    day; the officer under him, 1_s._; and the master-gunner and porter,
    and eleven gunners and ten soldiers, 6_d._ each, which in Grose’s
    time had been increased to 1_s._ (Grose’s _Antiquities_, vol. ii.,
    where a sketch is given of the castle). Hurst, on account of its
    strength, was to have been betrayed, in the Dudley conspiracy, to
    the French, by Uvedale, Captain of the Isle of Wight. (Uvedale’s
    Confession, _Domestic MSS._, vol. vii., quoted in Froude’s _History
    of England_, vol. vi. p. 438.) Ludlow mentions the great importance
    of Hurst being secured to the Commonwealth, as both commanding the
    Isle of Wight and stopping communication with the mainland
    (_Memoirs_, p. 323). Hammond, in a letter from Carisbrook Castle,
    June 25th, 1648, says it is “of very great importance to the island.
    It is a place of as great strength as any I know in England” (Peck’s
    _Desiderata Curiosa_, vol. ii., b. ix., p. 383).

[189]Sir Thomas Herbert’s _Memoirs of the two last Years of the Reign of
    King Charles I._, Ed. 1702, pp. 87, 88.

[190]Warwick calls the King’s rooms “dog lodgings” (_Memoirs_, p. 334);
    but it is evident from Herbert (_Memoirs_, p. 94) that both Charles
    and his attendants were well treated, which we know from Whitelock
    (_Memorials of English Affairs_, p. 359; London, 1732) was the wish
    of the army, as also from the letter of Colonel Hammond’s deputies
    given in Rushworth (vol. ii., part iv., p. 1351). Of Colonel
    Hammond’s own treatment of the King we learn from Charles himself,
    who, besides speaking of him as a man of honour and feeling, said
    “that he thought himself as safe in Hammond’s hands as in the
    custody of his own son” (Whitelock, p. 321).

[191]Evidently a misprint for three-quarters of an hour.

[192]Herbert’s _Memoirs_, pp. 85-86.

[193]A Keltic derivation for both places has been proposed, but it is
    not on critical grounds satisfactory.

[194]Gough possessed a brass coin inscribed Tetricus Sen. rev. Lætitia
    Augg., found here; and adds that in 1744 nearly 2 cwt. of coins of
    the Lower Empire were discovered in two urns. Camden’s _Britannia_,
    Ed. Gough, vol. i. p. 132.

[195]The grant is given in the Appendix to Warner’s _South-West Parts of
    Hampshire_, vol. ii., p. i., No. 1.

[196]Like those of Christchurch, the Corporation books of Lymington are
    full of interest, though they do not commence till after 1545, the
    previous records being generally supposed to have been burnt by
    D’Annebault in one of his raids on the south coast. Du Bellay,
    however, who, in his _Mémoires_, has so circumstantially narrated
    the French movements, says nothing of Lymington having suffered, nor
    can I find the fact mentioned in any of the State papers of the
    time. Take, for instance, the following entries from the
    Chamberlain’s books:—

      “1643. Quartering 20 soldiers one daie and     xvi._s._    ij._d._
             night, going westward for the
             Parliam^t service
       1646. For bringinge the toune cheste from      ij._s._
             Hurst Castell
       1646. Watche when the allarme was out of     iiij._s._
             Wareham
       1646. For the sending a messenger to the    xiiij._s._
             Lord Hopton, when he lay att Winton
             with his army, with the toune’s
             consent
       1648. For keeping a horse for the Lord        iij._s._     x._d._
             General’s man
       1650. Paid to Sir Thomas Fairfax his         xij._s._”
             souldiers going for the isle of
             Wight with their general’s passe

    Such entries to an historian of the period would be invaluable, as
    showing not only the state of the country but of the town, when the
    town-chest had to be sent four miles for safety; and proving, too,
    that here (notice the fourth entry), as elsewhere, there were two
    nearly equally balanced factions—one for the King, the other for the
    Commonwealth. I may add that a little book has been privately
    printed, of extracts from the Lymington Corporation books, from
    which the foregoing have been taken. It would be a very good plan if
    those who have the leisure would render some such similar service in
    other boroughs.

[197]Warner’s _Hampshire_, vol. i., sect. ii., p. 6; London, 1795. See,
    too, previously, ch. xi., p. 122, foot-note.

[198]See Dugdale’s _Monasticon Anglicanum_, vol. vi., part ii., p. 800.
    Tanner’s _Notitia Monastica_. Ed. Nasmyth, 1787. Hampshire. No. iv.

[199]I may seem to exaggerate both here and in the next chapter. I wish
    that I did. For similar cases in the neighbouring counties of Dorset
    and Sussex let the reader turn to the words “hag-rod,”
    “maiden-tree,” and “viary-rings,” in Mr. Barnes’s _Glossary of the
    Dorset Dialect_; and vol. ii. pp. 266, 269, 270, 278, of Mr.
    Warter’s _Seaboard and the Down_. I hesitate not to say that
    superstition in some sort or another is universal throughout
    England. It assumes different forms: in the higher classes, just at
    present, of spirit-rapping and table-turning, more gross than even
    those of the lower; and I am afraid really seems constitutional in
    our English nature.

[200]Of the extreme difficulty of classification of race in the New
    Forest I am well aware. I have, however, taken such typical families
    as Purkis, Peckham, Watton, &c., whose names are to be met in every
    part of the Forest, as my guide. Often, too, certain Forest
    villages, as Burley and Minestead, though far apart, have a strong
    connection with each other, and a family relationship may be traced
    in all the cottages. A good paper was read, touching upon the
    elements of the New Forest population, by Mr. D. Mackintosh, before
    the Ethnological Society, April 3rd, 1861. Of the Jute element,
    which we might have expected from Bede’s account of the large Jute
    settlement in the Isle of Wight, and Florence of Worcester’s
    language (as before, ed. Thorpe, vol. i., p. 276), few traces are to
    be found. See, however, on this point, what Latham says in his
    _Ethnology of the British Isles_, pp. 238, 239.

[201]See Dr. Guest’s paper on “The Early-English Settlements in South
    Britain,” _Proceedings of the Archæological Institute_, Salisbury
    volume, 1851, p. 30.

[202]This, of course, is not the place to go into so difficult a
    subject. I need not refer the reader to Mr. Davies’s paper in the
    _Philological Society’s Transactions_, 1855, p. 210, and M. de Haan
    Hettema’s _Commentary_ upon it, 1856, p. 196. On the great value of
    provincialisms, see what Müller has said in _The Science of
    Language_, pp. 49-59. In Appendix I., I have given a list of some of
    those of the New Forest, which have never before been noticed in any
    of the published glossaries.

[203]In the charter of confirmation of Baldwin de Redvers to the
    Conventual House of Christchurch, quoted in Dugdale’s _Monasticon
    Anglicanum_, vol. iii., part i., p. 304, and by Warner, vol. ii.,
    Appendix, p. 47, it is called Hedenes Buria, which may suggest that
    the word is only a corruption. I do not for one moment wish to
    insist on the personal reality of Hengest, but simply to notice the
    fact of the High-German word for a horse being prominent in the
    topography of a people whose ancestors used so many High-German
    words. See Donaldson, _Cambridge Essays_, 1856, pp. 45-48.

[204]On this word as explaining Shakspeare’s “gallow” in _King Lear_
    (act iii. sc. 2), see _Transactions of the Philological Society_,
    part i., 1858, pp. 123, 124.

[205]See ch. iii., p. 33.

[206]In the parish of Eling we have Netley Down and Netley Down-field,
    the Nutlei of _Domesday_. Upon this word—which we find, also, in the
    north of Hampshire, in the shape of Nately Scures and Upper Nately
    (Nataleie in _Domesday_)—as the equivalent of Natan Leah, the old
    name of the Upper portion of the New Forest, see Dr. Guest, as
    before quoted, p. 31.

[207]A Keltic derivation has, I am aware, been proposed for this word.
    It is to be met with under various forms in all parts of the Forest.
    The Forest termination den (_denu_) must, however, be put down to
    this source. See _Transactions of the Philological Society_, 1855,
    p. 283.

[208]See what Mr. Cooper says with regard to the affinity of the western
    dialect of Sussex, as distinguished from the eastern, to that of
    Hampshire, in the preface (p. i.) to his _Glossary of Provincialisms
    in the County of Sussex_. For instance, such Romance words as
    appleterre, gratten, ampery, bonker, common in Sussex, are not to be
    heard in the Forest; whilst many of the West-Country words, as they
    are called, used daily in the Forest, as charm (a noise—see next
    chapter, p. 191), moot, stool, vinney, twiddle (to chirp), are, if
    Mr. Cooper’s Glossary is correct, quite unknown in Sussex.

[209]It is surprising, in looking over the musters of ships in the
    reigns of Edward II. and Edward III., to see how few Northern ports
    are mentioned. The importance, too, of the South-coast ports, which
    were sometimes summoned by themselves, arose not only from the
    reasons in the text, but from being close to the country with which
    we were in a state of chronic warfare. See, too, the _State Papers_,
    vol. i., p. 812, 813, where the levies of the fleets in 1545,
    against D’Annebault, with the names of each vessel and its port, are
    given; as also p. 827, where the neighbouring coast of Dorset is
    described as deserted, in consequence of the sailors flocking to the
    King’s service. I think that I have somewhere seen that our sailors
    were once rated as English, Irish, Scotch, and the “West Country,”
    the latter standing the highest.

[210]From an old chap-book, _The Hampshire Murderers_, with
    illustrations, without date or publisher’s name, but probably
    written about 1776.

[211]That is to say, the smuggled spirits were concealed either below
    the fireplace or in the stable, just beneath where the horse stood.
    The expression of “Hampshire and Wiltshire moon-rakers” had its
    origin in the Wiltshire peasants fishing up the contraband goods at
    night, brought through the Forest, and hid in the various ponds.

[212]See _Dictionary of Americanisms_, by J. R. Bartlett, who does not,
    however, we think, refer nearly often enough to the mother-country
    for the sources of many of the phrases and words which he gives.
    Even the Old-English inflexions, as he remarks, are in some parts of
    the States still used, showing what vitality, even when
    transplanted, there is in our language. Boucher, too, notices in the
    excellent introduction to his _Glossary of Archaic and Provincial
    Words_, p. ix., that the whine and the drawl of the first Puritan
    emigrants may still in places be detected.

[213]All over the world lives a similar fairy, the same in form, but
    different in name. His life has been well illustrated in Dr. Bell’s
    _Shakspeare’s Puck and his Folk-lore_. In England he is known by
    many names—“the white witch,” “the horse-hag,” and “Fairy Hob;” and
    hence, too, we here get Hob’s Hill and Hob’s Hole. For accounts of
    him in different parts see especially Allies’ _Folk-lore of
    Worcestershire_, ch. xii. p. 409, and _Illustrations of the Fairy
    Mythology of A Midsummer Night’s Dream_, by J. O. Halliwell.
    Published by the Shakspeare Society.

[214]The most popular songs which I have noticed in the Forest and on
    its borders are the famous satire, “When Joan’s ale was new,” which
    differs in many important points from Mr. Bell’s printed version:
    “King Arthur had three sons;” “There was an old miller of
    Devonshire,” which also differs from Mr Bell’s copy; and

        “There were three men came from the north,
          To fight the victory;”

    made famous by Burns’ additions and improvements; but which, from
    various expressions, seems to have been, first of all, a
    West-Country song, sung at different wakes and fairs, part of the
    unwritten poetry of the nation.

[215]_The Repression of Over-much Blaming the Church_, edited by
    Churchill Babington, vol. i., part. ii., ch. iii., p. 155.

[216]Dr. Bell takes quite a different view of these passages in his
    _Shakspeare’s Puck and his Folk-lore_. Introduction to vol. ii. p.
    6. The simple explanation, however, seems to me the best.

[217]See ch. xviii. p. 197.

[218]The best cheese, the same as “rammel,” as opposed to “ommary,”
    which see in Appendix I.

[219]In the Abstract of Forest Claims made in 1670 some old customs are
    preserved, amongst them payments of “Hocktide money,” “moneth
    money,” “wrather money” (rother, hryðer, cattle-money), “turfdele
    money,” and “smoke money,” which last we shall meet in the
    Churchwardens’ Books of the district. The following is taken from
    the Bishop of Winchester’s payments:—“Rents at the feast of St.
    Michael, 3_s._ 8_d._ For turfdeale money, 3_s._ 0_d._ Three quarters
    and 4 bushels of barley at the feast of All Saints. Three bushels of
    oats, and 30 eggs, at the Purification of the Virgin Mary.”—(p. 57.)

[220]Against tracking hares on the snow and killing them with “dogge or
    beche bow,” was one of the statutes of Henry VIII., made 1523
    (_Statutes of the Realm_, vol. iii., p. 217).

[221]In that winter 300 deer were starved to death in Boldrewood Walk.
    _Journals of the House of Commons_, vol. xliv., pp. 561, 594.

[222]I have never in the Forest met the old phrase of “shaketime,” or
    rather “shack-time,” as it should be written, and still used of the
    pigs going in companies after grain or acorns, according to Miss
    Gurney, in Norfolk. _Transactions of the Philological Society_,
    1855, p. 35.

[223]On this word, see Appendix I., under “Hoar-Withey,” p. 283.

[224]By a decree of the Court of Exchequer, in the twenty-sixth year of
    Elizabeth, the keepers were allowed to take all the honey found in
    the trees in the Forest.

[225]A local name for a sieve, called, also, a “rudder;” which last word
    is, in different forms, used throughout the West of England.

[226]For other words applied to cows of various colours, see Barnes’s
    _Glossary of the Dorset Dialect_, under the words “capple-cow,” p.
    323; “hawked cow,” p. 346; and “linded cow,” p. 358.

[227]_Glossary of the Provincial Words and Places in Wiltshire_, pp. 37,
    38. London, 1842.

[228]See Müller’s _Science of Language_, pp. 345-351; and compare
    Wedgwood, _Dictionary of English Etymology_, introduction, pp. 5-17.

[229]_Dictionary of English Etymology_, p. 260. Manwood uses “bugalles”
    as a translation of _buculi_. _A Treatise of the Lawes of the
    Forest_, f. iii., sect. xxvii., 1615.

[230]Cunning, I need scarcely add, is here used in its original sense of
    knowing, from the Old-English _cunnan_, as we find in Psalm cxxxvii.
    v. 5.

[231]See ch. xvi. p. 178.

[232]_Apology for Smectymnus_, quoted by Richardson. The word is even
    used by Locke.

[233]Corrected from ”literally the raw-mouse”—_errata_

[234]Miss Gurney, in her _Glossary of Norfolk Words_, gives “ranny” as a
    shrew-mouse. _Transactions of the Philological Society_, 1855, p.
    35. The change of _e_ into _a_ is worth noticing, as illustrative of
    what was said in the previous chapter, p. 167, of the pronunciation
    of the West-Saxon.

[235]The word “more” was in good use less than a century ago; whilst the
    term “morefall,” as we have seen in chapter iv. p. 43, foot-note,
    was very common in the time of the Stuarts. Mr. Barnes, in his
    _Glossary of the Dorset Dialect_, pp. 363, 391, gives us “mote,” and
    “stramote,” as “a stalk of grass,” which serve still better to
    explain St. Matthew.

[236]Thorpe’s Preface to the English translation of Pauli’s _Life of
    Alfred the Great_, p. vi.

[237]Thorpe’s Preface to _The Chronicle_, vol. i., p. viii., foot-note
    1. See, however, Lappenberg’s _History of England under the
    Anglo-Saxon Kings_; translated by Thorpe, Literary Introduction, p.
    xxxix.; and the Preface to _Monumenta Historica Britannica_, p. 75,
    where, as Mr. Thorpe notices, the examples quoted, in favour of the
    Mercian origin of the manuscript, are certainly, in several
    instances, wrong.

[238]I may as well add that a little way from where the Bound Oak
    formerly stood, near Dibden, and between it and Sandy Hill, lies a
    small mound, thirty yards in circumference, and three feet high in
    the centre, surrounded by an irregular moat, from which the earth
    had been taken. This I opened in 1862, driving a broad trench from
    the east to the centre, and another from the south to the centre,
    which, as also the west side, we entirely excavated; digging below
    the natural soil to the depth of four feet. Nothing, however, was
    found, though I have no doubt charcoal was somewhere present.

    Beyond this, in Dibden Bottom, rises a large mound, from twenty to
    thirty feet high, apparently of a sepulchral character, known as
    Barney Barns Hill. Proceeding, close to Butt’s Ash End Lane, and
    near the Roman, or rather British, road to Leap (see chap v., p.
    56), stand two barrows, the northernmost one hundred and the
    southernmost eighty yards in circumference. Farther away, in Holbury
    Purlieu, are three more, each with a circle of about seventy yards.
    To the west of these, in the Forest, as shown in the illustration at
    page 213, rise four more, the three farthest forming a triangle.
    Beyond these, again, about three-quarters of a mile distant, near
    Stoneyford Pond, lie four others, respectively ninety, one hundred,
    and seventy yards in circumference. To the north rise three more,
    known as the Nodes, the westernmost about one hundred yards in
    circumference; the other two, which are ovaler and form twin
    barrows, being one hundred and fifty and one hundred yards. Two more
    stand on the side of the Beaulieu road to Fawley. All these, with
    others on Lymington Common and near Ashurst Lodge, and on the East
    Fritham Plain, still remain to be explored. For the barrows opened
    by the Rev. J. Pemberton Bartlett, on Langley Heath, see farther on,
    page 211.

[239]_South-Western Parts of Hampshire_, vol. i. pp. 69-79.

[240]Warner probably meant an overhanging brim, such as is common to
    most of the early Keltic cinerary urns, or, perhaps, one like that
    of the left-hand urn in the illustration at p. 196, which is more
    contracted than the others. He unfortunately gives us no dimensions.

[241]This camp was probably, since coins of Claudius have been found
    there, occupied by Vespasian, when he conquered the Isle of Wight. A
    bronze celt was found here some eighty years ago, and came into the
    possession of Warner. Others have been discovered, in great
    quantities, in various parts of the Forest, two of which are
    engraved in _Archæologia_, vol. v., plate viii., figs. 9 and 10.
    Brander, too, the well-known antiquary, found others at Hinton, on
    the west border of the Forest (_Archæologia_, vol. v. p. 115). Mr.
    Drayson has also picked up two flint knives at Eyeworth, which are
    figured, showing both the under and upper surfaces, at p. 206.

[242]As in Derbyshire all barrows are marked by the terminal low—_hlœw_,
    a grave, so in the Forest they seem particularized by a reference to
    the Old-English _lic_. Thus, near the Beaulieu barrows we find
    Lytton Copse and Common, and at the west end of the Forest, not far
    from Amberwood, meet another Latchmoor. I may notice that just
    outside the Forest, in Darrat’s Lane—a word which often occurs—we
    find a place, near some mounds, called “Brands,” equivalent to the
    “Brund” of Derbyshire, and having reference to the burning funeral
    pyre. (See Bateman’s _Ten Years’ Diggings_, Appendix, p. 290.)

[243]I certainly think that these urns were fired, though imperfectly.
    As Mr. Bateman remarks, sun-baked specimens soon return to their
    original clay. See Appendix to _Ten Years’ Diggings_, p. 280.

    These three urns, with all the other fragments of cinerary vessels
    found in the Forest, I have placed in the British Museum, where they
    have been restored. The artist has represented them exactly as they
    appeared on the second day of digging. The fractures in the central
    urn were caused by an unlucky blow from a pick-axe. The measurements
    are as follows:—

      The north-eastern urn—Circumference at    top        3 ft.
         ”                     ”                bottom     1 ” 6 in.
         ”                  Total height                   1 ” 4½ ”
      The central urn—The same.
      The south-western urn—Circumference at    top        2 ” 9 ”
         ”                     ”                bottom     1 ” 4½ ”
         ”                  Total height                   1 ” 1¼ ”

[244]I am inclined to think that here, as in the similar instance on
    Fritham Plain, the urns were put in the mound entire, and not, as is
    sometimes the case, in fragments. The pieces had no appearance of
    being burnt after the fractures had taken place, which were here
    simply the result of decay. See on this point Bateman’s _Ten Years’
    Diggings_, pp. 191, 192, where Mr. Keller’s letter to Sir Henry
    Ellis on the subject is given.

[245]Instances have been known where the top of a Roman cinerary urn has
    been taken off, and replaced; but, from the narrowness of the neck,
    I hardly think this vessel was used for such a purpose. I give with
    it also a late British urn found, some twenty years ago, in a barrow
    outside the present Forest boundary, in a field known as Hilly
    Accombs, near Darrat’s Lane, which has been previously mentioned. It
    measures 6 inches in height, and has a circumference of 1 foot 9
    inches round the top, and 1 foot at the base. With it was discovered
    another, but I have been unable to learn in whose possession it now
    is, or what has become of the Roman glass unguent bottle found in
    Denney Walk (see the _Antiquities of the Priory of Christchurch_, by
    B. Ferrey and E. W. Brayley, p. 2, foot-note). The two flint knives
    were discovered by Mr. Drayson, near Eyeworth Wood, and somewhat
    resemble the chipping found in the largest barrow at Bratley, and
    were, perhaps, cotemporary. The conchoidal fracture may be well seen
    in specimen on the right-hand side. The celts found by Warner and
    Brander, with others in the possession of Gough, mentioned at p.
    199, foot-note, were bronze.

[246]There are two large heathy tracts known as Fritham Plain; the one
    to the east, where stand several large trenched barrows, which still
    remain to be opened; and the West Plain, where these excavations
    took place.

[247]An attempt to examine this barrow had been previously made, but the
    explorers had opened a little to the south-west of the spot where
    the pottery lay. It is just possible that the large square in Sloden
    may be of the same character. I cut a small opening at the western
    end, but it is impossible, on account of the trees, to make any
    satisfactory excavation. Whatever might have been its original
    purpose, it was certainly never the site of a church, as is commonly
    supposed. See ch. iii., p. 32, foot-note.

[248]To assist the archæologist, I have marked on the map the sites of
    all the barrows of which I am aware. In the British Museum is a
    small urn, found in a barrow at Broughton, on the borders of
    Hampshire, about twelve miles north of the Forest, measuring three
    inches in height, and, though so much less, somewhat resembling,
    with its two small ears, as also in the general character and
    texture of its ware, those found in the Bratley barrow. The Rev. J.
    Compton also informs me that some years ago a plain urn was
    discovered in a barrow on his father’s property at Minestead, in the
    Forest. I hear, too, that other urns have been found in barrows near
    Burley on the west, and near Butt’s Ash Lane on the east side of the
    Forest, but they have long ago been lost or destroyed, and I am
    unable to learn even their general form. I trust, therefore,
    permission will not be granted to open the mounds which are
    unexplored, except to those who can produce some credentials that
    they are fitted for the task, and are doing it from no idle
    curiosity, but legitimate motives. Too much harm has been already
    done, and too many barrows have been already rifled, without any
    record being made of their contents. Nearly all that we know of Kelt
    or Old-English we learn from their deaths. Their history is buried
    in their graves.

[249]In Mr. Birch’s _Ancient Pottery_, vol. ii. pp. 382, 383, will be
    found a list of the notices of the various discoveries of Keltic
    urns, scattered through the different Archæological Journals and
    Collections, which will save the student much time and labour. A
    most valuable paper on the subject, by Kemble, was published in the
    _Archæological Journal_ vol. xii. number 48, p. 309.

[250]_Archæologia_, vol. xxxv. pp. 91-93.

[251]See, too, Mr. Carrington’s “Account of a Romano-British Settlement
    near Wetton, Staffordshire,” in Bateman’s _Ten Years’ Diggings_, pp.
    194-200. I have never found any stone floors, but this may be
    accounted for by the difficulty of procuring paving-stones in the
    district. The best guide which I know for discovering any ancient
    settlements is the presence of nettles and chickweed, which, like
    the American “Jersey-weed,” always accompany the footsteps of man.
    These plants are very conspicuous in the lower parts of Sloden, as
    also at the Crockle and Island Thorn potteries.

[252]The spot where these banks intersect each other is known as Sloden
    Hole, and is well worthy of notice. The annexed plan will best show
    the character of the place. The largest bank is that which runs to
    the south-west, measuring four yards across, and proving by its
    massiveness that it is a Roman work. Upon digging, as shown in the
    plan, at the point of intersection, we found pieces of iron and iron
    slag, sandstone, charcoal, and Roman pottery similar to that made in
    Crockle. Many of these banks run for long distances. That to the
    south-east reaches the top of Sloden Green, about half a mile off,
    whilst the north-east bank stretches for nearly a mile to
    Whiteshoot. There are, too, other banks scattered about Sloden,
    which, if examined, would doubtless yield similar results, but none
    are so well defined as these. The largest bank which I know in the
    district stretches from Pitt’s Enclosure, in a south-easterly
    direction across Anderwood, and so through the southern parts of
    Sloden.

    [Illustration]

[253]The most noticeable specimens which I discovered were a strainer or
    colander, a funnel, some fragments of “mock Samian” ware; part of a
    lamp, with the holes to admit air, as also for suspension; and some
    beads of Kimmeridge clay, proving, by being found here, their Roman
    origin. The iron tools of the workmen had been dropped into the
    furnace, and were a good deal melted. The wood owed its preservation
    to the ferruginous soil in which it was imbedded, and was in a
    semi-fossilized state. Nothing less slight than a plank could have
    lasted so long. The finger-marks and impress of the hand were very
    plain on one of the masses of brick-earth. The coin, I am sorry to
    say, is too much worn to be recognized. These, with the other
    vessels, _pateræ_, _urceoli_, _lagenæ_, _pocula_, _acetabula_, &c.,
    I have placed in the British Museum, where is also Mr. Bartlett’s
    rich collection. The patterns, with the necks of _ampullæ_ and
    _gutti_, as also the specimens at pages 214, 225, will, I trust,
    give some general idea of the beauty of the ware, and can be
    compared with those given by Mr. Akerman in _Archæologia_, vol.
    xxxv. p. 96, and by Mr. Franks in the _Archæological Journal_, vol.
    x. p. 8. The commonest shape for a drinking-vessel is the right-hand
    figure at page 225, known in the Forest, from the depressions made
    by the workman’s thumb, as a “thumb pot.” Sometimes it is met with
    considerably ornamented, and varies in height from three to ten
    inches. The principal part of the pottery is slate-coloured and
    grey, and faint yellow, but some of a fine red bronze and morone,
    caused by the overheating of the ovens. The patterns are thrown up
    by some white pigment, though a great many are left untouched by
    anything but the workman’s tool. When chipped, the ware, by being so
    well burnt, is quite siliceous. This manufactory, as its size would
    show, was not confined to merely supplying the wants of the
    immediate neighbourhood, but probably, with others at Alice Holt and
    elsewhere, furnished a great part of the South of England with its
    earthenware, for fragments of the same make, shape, and texture,
    have been found at Bittern (Clausentum), and Chichester, though
    doubtless a similarity of workmanship prevailed amongst many of the
    potteries. The so-called crockery of the southern part of the Forest
    is nothing else but the plates of turtles imbedded in the Freshwater
    marls.

[254]_Archæologia_, vol. xxxv. pp. 95, 96.

[255]See _Journal of the Archæological Association_, vol. xii. pp.
    141-145, where some figures of the jars are given.

[256]In Eyeworth Wood I have found pieces of Roman wine and oil flasks,
    but they were left here by the former inhabitants, and not made on
    the spot. The place known as Church Green is evidently the site of a
    habitation. In the autumn of 1862 I made several excavations; but
    there was some difficulty attending the work, as the ground had been
    previously explored by the late Mr. Lewis, the author of the
    _Historical Inquiries on the State of the New Forest_. The evidence,
    however, of the Roman pottery was sufficient to show its occupation
    during the Roman period, and to dispel the illusion that it was ever
    the site of a church. On the north-east side of the wood are the
    remains of a fine Roman camp, the _agger_ and _vallum_ being in one
    place nearly complete.

[257]I may add that Mr. Drayson also possesses coins of Victorinus, and
    Claudius Gothicus, found in various parts of the Forest, the last in
    one of the “thumb-pots,” with 1700 others, perhaps, indicating the
    period when the Crockle and Island Thorn Potteries were in their
    most flourishing condition.

[258]In _Archæologia_, vol. xxxv. p. 99, Mr. Akerman has given a series
    of patterns, which show the variety of designs according to the
    fancy of each workman. The pattern on the right-hand side of our
    second illustration at p. 223 is used as a border in the toga of the
    later Roman empire. The height of the wine vessel at p. 214 is seven
    inches and a half; of the oil-flask at p. 225, five inches; of the
    largest drinking cup, five inches; and the smallest, three inches
    and three-quarters; the jar, two inches.

[259]The following dates prior to 1700 of the Parish Registers in the
    Forest district are taken from the _Parish Register Abstract_:
    Accounts and Papers: 1833, vol. xxviii. (No. 13), p. 398:—

      Eling                            1537
      Christchurch                     1586
      Milford                          1594
      Boldre                           1596
      Ellingham                        1596
      Bramshaw (loose leaves)          1598
      Fordingbridge                    1642
      Beaulieu                         1654
      Ibbesley                         1654
      Milton                           1654
      Lymington                        1662
      Dibden                           1665
      Fawley                           1673
      Breamore                         1675
      Sopley                           1678
      Minestead                        1682
      Ringwood                         1692

[260]See chapter v., p. 51, _foot-note_.

[261]Part of the Act is quoted in Burn’s _History of Parish Registers_,
    second edition, pp. 26 and 27, and where, at pp. 159, 160, 161, are
    given several examples of this kind of marriage—amongst them, that
    of Oliver Cromwell’s daughter Frances, in 1657, from the Register of
    St. Martin-in-the-Fields.

[262]Burn, in his _History of Parish Registers_, second edition, pp.
    171, 172, 173, gives several similar instances of such licences.
    These most valuable books at Ellingham are, notwithstanding the
    incumbent’s care, in a shocking state of preservation. I trust some
    transcript of them may be made before they quite fall to pieces.
    Ellingham also possesses another book containing the names of the
    owners of the different pews in the church in 1672, invaluable to
    any local historian. In the beginning of this book are inserted a
    number of law-forms of agreements, wills, and indentures, probably
    for the use of the clergyman, who was, perhaps, consulted by his
    parishioners in worldly as also spiritual matters. In the Register
    there is, unfortunately, no mention of the death of Alice Lisle, as
    the burials are torn out from 1664 to 1695.

[263]See _Notes and Queries_. First Series, vol. ii., pp. 344, 345. In
    the Churchwardens’ Books of Fordingbridge we find—“1609. For
    smoke-mony, for makynge and deliveringe of the bills xvj^d,” which
    would confirm the first explanation given in the text.

[264]30 Car. II., cap. iii. See _Journals of the House of Commons_, vol.
    viii., p. 650; ix., p. 440. In _Burn’s History of Parish Registers_,
    second edition, p. 117, may be found a much more complicated
    affidavit than those given in the text.

[265]See chap. v., pp. 57, 58. It is just possible that by his “τὰς
    πλησίον νήσους,” Diodorus may mean the Shingle Islands, which we
    have described in chapter xiv. p. 151, and whose sudden appearance
    and disappearance would lead to the most extravagant reports.

[266]“On the Newer Deposits of the Sussex Coast:” _Geological Journal_,
    vol. xiii. pp. 64, 65.

[267]In the coast-map at p. 148, the principal beds are marked, so that,
    I trust, there will be no difficulty in finding them.

[268]For the direction of the river from east to west, see a paper “On
    the Discovery of an Alligator and several New Mammalia in Hordwell
    Cliff,” by Searles Wood, F.G.S.: _London Geological Journal_, No.
    1., pp. 6, 7.

[269]“The Freshwater Strata of Hordwell Cliff, Beacon Cliff, and Barton
    Cliff:” _Transactions of the Geological Society_, second series,
    vol. ii., p. 287.

[270]“Stratigraphical Account of the Section of Hordwell, Beckton, and
    Barton Cliffs:” _The Annals and Magazine of Natural History_, June,
    1851. In making these measurements I was very greatly assisted by
    the Rev. W. Fox, who was most untiring to ensure accuracy.

[271]See the _Geological Journal_, vol. iv., p. 17; as also, Professor
    Owen’s _Monograph_ on “The Fossil Reptilia of the London Clay,”
    published by the Palæontographical Society, 1850, p. 48.

[272]Some of the most characteristic shells in this bed may perhaps be
    mentioned:—

      Pleurotoma exorta. _Sol._
      Terebellum fusiforme. _Lam._
      Murex minax. _Sol._
      Murex asper. _Sol._
      Murex bispinosus. _Sow._
      Typhis pungens. _Sol._
      Voluta ambigua. _Sol._
      Voluta costata. _Sol._
      Voluta luctatrix. _Sol._
      Dentalium striatum. _Sow._
      Scalaria reticulata. _Sow._
      Scalaria semicostata. _Sow._
      Littorina sulcata. _Pilk._
      Solarium plicatum. _Lam._
      Hipponyx squamiformis. _Lam._
      Fusus porrectus. _Sol._
      Fusus errans. _Sol._
      Fusus longævus. _Lam._
      Bulla constricta. _Sow._
      Bulla elliptica. _Desh._

    I scarcely need, I hope, refer the reader either to Mr. Edwards’
    _Monograph on the Eocene Mollusca_, 1849, 1852, 1854, 1856, or to
    Mr. Searles Wood’s _Monograph_ on the same subject, both in course
    of publication by the Palæontographical Society. There is an
    excellent table of the Barton shells, by Mr. Prestwich, in the
    _Geological Journal_, vol. xiii. pp. 118-126.

[273]For the High Cliff Beds, see Mr. Fisher’s paper on the Bracklesham
    Sands of the Isle of Wight Basin, in the _Proceedings of the
    Geological Society_, May, 1862, pp. 86-91, whose divisions are here
    followed.

[274]All these beds are shown in the large map by the word “Fossils,”
    there not being space enough to particularize each bed.

[275]These beds were discovered by Mr. Fisher in 1861, and for the
    following measurements I am indebted to Mr. Keeping. We find, about
    one hundred yards in a south-eastward direction from the point where
    the footpath from Brook to Fritham crosses the stream, (1) the Coral
    Bed, the equivalent of that at Stubbington, full of crushed
    _Dentalia_ and _Serpulæ_, six inches. (2) Sandy light blue clay,
    with very few fossils, seven feet. (3) Verdigris-green and
    slate-coloured clay, characterized near the top by a new species of
    _Dentalium_, _Serpulorbis Morchii_ (?), and _Spondylus rarispina_.
    The other typical shells are _Voluta Maga_, several species of
    _Arca_ and _Corbula gallica_, five feet. It is in this bed that
    large roots of trees and ferns are found.

    No persons, however, I should suppose, would think of examining any
    of these beds without first consulting Mr. Fisher’s most valuable
    paper on the Bracklesham Beds in the _Proceedings of the Geological
    Society_, May, 1862. And I should further most strongly advise them,
    if they wish to become practically acquainted with the beds, to
    procure the assistance of Mr. Keeping, of Freshwater, in the Isle of
    Wight.

    I may here also mention that a well is at the present moment being
    sunk at Emery Down, and which, as I learn from Mr. Keeping, gives
    the following interesting measurements:—(1) Beds of marl, containing
    _Voluta geminata_, discovered forty years ago, at Cutwalk Hill, by
    Sir Charles Lyell, and now re-discovered, and a small _Marginella_,
    seven feet. (2) Bed of bluish sandy clay, which becomes, when
    weathered, excessively brown. This bed, very rich in fossils, which
    are in a good state of preservation, is equivalent to what is now
    called the Middle Marine Bed, at Hordle and Brockenhurst, sixteen to
    nineteen feet. (3) Hordle Freshwater Beds, containing two species of
    _Potanomya_, and comminuted shells, fifteen feet. (4) Upper Bagshot
    Sands, measuring, as far as the workmen have gone, twenty feet, and
    below which lies the water at the top of the clay. The important
    point to be noticed is the extreme thinning out of the Hordle
    Freshwater Beds, which, from the depth of two hundred and fifty feet
    at Barton, have here shrunk to fifteen. Mr. Prestwich has suggested
    that these beds, as they advance in a north-easterly direction,
    become more marine, which seems here to be confirmed.

[276]I say probably, for Professor Owen, who examined the specimen,
    states that it is of a bovine animal of about the same size as _Bos
    longifrons_, but does not yield sufficiently distinct characters for
    an exact specific identification.

[277]I had intended to have accompanied this description with a group of
    some of the best fossils from this pit, including the fruit,
    fish-spines, and palates, and the large _Pleurotoma attenuata_. It
    was, in fact, commenced by the artist. But the specimens were
    obliged to be so greatly reduced, that the drawing gave no complete
    idea of their form and beauty, and would only have confused the
    reader. I have, therefore, contented myself with figuring at p. 249,
    in its matrix of clay, the rare _Natica cepacea_ (?), which has
    passed into Mr. Edwards’ fine collection, and who has kindly allowed
    me the use of it, with the characteristic _Cassidaria nodosa_, and a
    lovely _Calyptræa trochiformis_, found, as mentioned, inside a
    _Cardita_. At p. 244, the specimens given from the Shepherd’s Gutter
    Beds are _Cerithium trilinum_ (Edw. _MS._), _Voluta uniplicata_,
    and, in the centre, a shell, showing oblique folds on the
    _columella_, which Mr. Edwards thinks may be identical with _Fusus
    incertus_ of Deshayes.

[278]In one place only in the Forest, on some waste ground at Alum
    Green, have I seen this plant.

[279]On this point see what Bromfield observes in his _Introduction to
    the Flora Vectensis_, p. xxvi.

[280]In Appendix II. I have given a list of all the characteristic
    plants of the New Forest to assist the collector; and, I trust,
    comprehensive enough for the botanist to make generalizations.

[281]Besides these we have all over the Forest _Lastrea Filix-mas_, and
    _dilatata_, and _Asplenium adiantum nigrum_, and _Polystichum
    angulare_, with its varieties, _angustatum_ and _aculeatum_, found
    near Fordingbridge. My friend, Mr. Rake, who discovered
    _angustatum_, found also, in February, 1856, near Fordingbridge,
    _Lastrea spinulosa_, but it has never since been seen in the
    locality.

[282]The Forest would afford a good field for deciding the controversy
    as to whether our tame pigs are descended from the European Wild
    Boar. (See _Proceedings of the Zoological Society_, 1861, p. 264;
    and _Annals and Magazine of Natural History_, Third Series, vol. ix.
    p. 415.) Certain it is that here are some breeds distinct in their
    markings. I must not, too, forget to mention _Coronella lævis_
    (Boie), which is found in the Forest, as also in Dorsetshire and
    Kent. This is the _Coronella austriaca_ of Laurenti, and afterwards
    the _Coluber lævis_ of Lacépede. It might be mistaken for the common
    viper (_Pelias berus_), but differs in not being venomous, as also
    from the ringed snake (_Natrix torquata_) in having a fang at the
    hinder extremity of its jaws, the peculiarity of the genus
    _Coronella_. It feeds on lizards, which its fang enables it to hold;
    drinks a great deal of water; and Dr. Günther, of the British
    Museum, to whom I am indebted for the above information, tells me
    that it crawls up the furze and low bushes to lick the rain off the
    leaves. For a list of the Lepidoptera of the New Forest, see
    Appendix IV.

[283]Vol. i. p. 26.

[284]_Illustrations of the Eggs of British Birds_, by W. C. Hewitson,
    vol. i. p. 27.

[285]As so few opportunities occur of weighing the eggs of the
    honey-buzzard and hobby, the following notes, most carefully made by
    Mr. Rake and myself, may not be without interest:—

      Honey-buzzard’s nest, taken June 16th, in a low fork of an
      oak-tree in Anses Wood, contained two fresh-laid eggs:—
         First egg (apothecaries’ weight)        1oz.  3dr.  1sc.  5gr.
         Second egg (very slightly dinted)       1oz.  2dr.  2sc. 10gr.
      Honey-buzzard’s nest, taken June 24th, in Ravensnest Wood, near
      Brook, in the higher branches of a tall beech, overhanging the
      road. This nest had been deserted, and the two eggs were very
      much addled and hard set:—
         First egg                               1oz.  4dr.  0sc. 10gr.
         Second egg                              1oz.  3dr.  2sc. 10gr.
      Hobby’s nest, placed in a nest which, in 1861, had been occupied
      by a honey-buzzard, was taken in Prior’s Acre, June 21st, and
      contained three fresh-laid eggs, now in Mr. Rake’s cabinet:—
         First egg                                     6dr.  0sc.  0gr.
         Second egg                                    5dr.  2sc. 10gr.
         Third egg (very slightly dinted)              5dr.  2sc.  0gr.
      Hobby’s nest, taken in South Bentley Wood, July 12, contained
      two eggs hard sat upon and addled:—
         First egg                                     5dr.  2sc. 15gr.
         Second egg (cracked)                          5dr.  0sc. 14gr.

    With these weights may be compared the following:—Egg, supposed to
    be that of a merlin, taken with two others which were broken, June
    17th, 1862, near Alum Green, in the hole of a beech, rather sat
    upon, weighed 4dr. 1sc. 10gr. Two fresh-laid eggs of kestrels, taken
    at the same time, weighed 4d. 2sc. 15gr. Other eggs of kestrels,
    however, have weighed considerably more; and two others, also laid
    about the same time, came to 5dr. 5 gr.

[286]As the instances of the breeding of the merlin, especially under
    these circumstances, will always be very rare, I may as well add my
    own personal observations. In the spring of 1861 I received three
    eggs taken not far from the Knyghtwood Oak, and said to have been
    found in the hole of a beech. As I am not in the habit of paying any
    attention to the mere stories which are so plentiful, I did not,
    therefore, examine them with any attention, and put them aside as
    merely kestrel’s. After, however, Mr. Farren’s communication to me,
    I looked out particularly for this little hawk, but only once saw it
    in the open ground, near Warwickslade Cutting, from whence it flew
    up, perching for a moment on a holly, and then making off to the
    woods. On June 4th, however, I observed a hen bird fly out of a
    hole, about twenty feet from the ground, in an old beech in
    Woolstone’s Hill, on the east side of Haliday’s Hill Enclosure.
    There were, however, no eggs. On the 5th I went again, and the bird,
    when I was about fifty yards from the tree, again flew off. Still,
    there were no eggs. I did not return till the 9th, when the nest,
    now pulled out of the hole, had been robbed. It was made of small
    sticks, and a considerable quantity of feather-moss, and some fine
    grass, and in general character resembled the nests of the bird
    found by Mr. Hewitson in Norway. In the holes were the bones of
    young rabbits, but these had, from their bleached appearance, been
    brought by a brown owl, who had reared her brood there in the
    previous summer. I afterwards learnt where the three eggs had been
    taken in 1861; but there was nothing, with the exception of a few
    sticks, in the hole, which was in this case about ten feet from the
    ground, and placed also in a beech on the edge of Barrowsmoor. Great
    caution, however, must be exercised regarding the merlin’s eggs; for
    I am inclined to think that the kestrel, contrary to its usual
    practice, sometimes also breeds in the Forest in the holes of trees.
    The egg mentioned at p. 264, foot-note, brought to me on June 17th,
    1862, I have every reason to believe is a merlin’s, but could not
    quite satisfy myself as to the evidence.

[287]For some account of the little owl (_Strix passerina_), see
    Appendix III. under the section of Stragglers, p. 314.

[288]Vol. ii. p. 57.

[289]Yarrell, vol. ii. p. 139.

[290]Passed in the twenty-fourth year of Henry VIII., 1532. _Statutes of
    the Realm_, vol. iii., p. 425, 426. It should, however, be
    remembered that under the term chough was in former times included
    the whole of the _Corvidæ_. Shakspeare’s “russet-pated choughs” are
    evidently jackdaws.

[291]In Appendix III. is given a list of all the birds hitherto observed
    in the New Forest District, as also more special information, which
    I thought would not interest the general reader.

[292]Collections for the _History of Hampshire_, by Richard Warner, vol.
    iii., pp. 37, 38. A brief list of Hampshire words will also be found
    in _Notes and Queries_, First Series, vol. x., No. 250, p. 120. Mr.
    Halliwell, in his account of the English Provincial Dialects, p.
    xx., prefixed to his _Dictionary of Archaic and Provincial Words_,
    mentions a MS. glossary of the provincialisms of the Isle of Wight,
    by Captain Henry Smith, of which he has made use.

[293]The numbers after a plant refer to its numerical place in the
    _London Catalogue_, whose nomenclature, and arrangement have been
    followed. The English synonyms have been chiefly taken from Smith.

[294]_Scirpus parvulus_ (R. and S.), mentioned by Rev. G. E. Smith as
    growing “on a mud-flat near Lymington,” is now extinct. See Watson’s
    _Cybele Britannica_, vol. iii. p. 78; and Bromfield, in the
    _Phytologist_, vol. iii., 1028.


                                THE END.

 London: Printed by Smith, Elder & Co., Little Green Arbour Court, Old
                              Bailey, E.C.


                         _By the same Author._

Crown 8vo. with Illustrations by W. J. Linton, printed on tinted paper,
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                               SHAKSPERE:
                _His Birthplace and its Neighbourhood._


                  Selection from Notices by the Press.

                       (The Westminster Review.)

‘A most elegant volume. Artist, printer, and author have vied with each
other in its production. All the well-known spots are taken from their
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Linton’s name is a sufficient guarantee. Mr. Wise is peculiarly fitted
for his task. He revels in painting the beauties of his native county
with an enthusiastic admiration, in which he makes Shakspere share, by
the readiness with which he localises descriptions in the poet’s works
that would have no such home-like effect on an ordinary reader. He does
this, too, without any arbitrary forcing, and gives a new grace to the
character of the universally beloved poet by connecting him by hitherto
unobserved ties with the home of his youth.’

                            (The Spectator.)

‘A critical biography of the one supreme poet of humanity; written with
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spirit, and in soberly elegant language, the intellectual talents, the
imperial diction and gorgeous colouring, the knowledge, the wisdom,
imagination, and many-sidedness of this wonderful artist; but he lays
even more stress on Shakspere’s moral characteristics, and on the
effectual qualities of his nature, than on these more brilliant and
obvious endowments; on his genial humour, his universal sympathy and
tolerance, his serene hilarity, his robust simple-hearted patriotism,
and his love of freedom—freedom of speculation, freedom of discussion.
The essential goodness of our great poet is the main argument of Mr.
Wise’s discourse.’

                           (The Daily News.)

‘We find the book as good as it is pretty, and therefore twice worthy
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explains the provincialisms of Shakspere, but, _è converso_, gives a
Shaksperian colour to phrases in use among the Warwickshire peasantry to
this day. So delightfully readable a glossary as this we have seldom
encountered.’

                         (The Morning Herald.)

‘Mr. Wise has treated an old and well-worn subject with singular good
sense and taste.... The chapter on Shakspere himself is a sound and
masterly examination of the nature and spirit of his genius, as revealed
in his works. Mr. Wise has a voice of his own in the matter, and it is
well worth listening to.’

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                           THE LAKE COUNTRY.
                           By E. LYNN LINTON.
                      ILLUSTRATED BY W. J. LINTON.

                  Selection from Notices by the Press.

                              (The Times.)

‘The Lake Country, by Mrs. Linton, is the best description of that part
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                         (The Saturday Review.)

‘A highly attractive and thoroughly enjoyable work.’

                            (The Athenæum.)

‘No one can leave Mrs. Linton’s book without being informed of much that
is curious as well as valuable concerning times past. To the Tourist,
who knows the Lakes, this book will be welcome, not only for its text,
but on account of the charming drawings with which Mr. Linton has done
his best—a very happy best—to recall many lovely and famous scenes.’

                            (The Examiner.)

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an artist who, whether in large plates or in small sketches, endeavours
to represent the soul and life of English scenery, under some of its
most picturesque and attractive aspects. Mrs. Linton’s book, were it not
illustrated as it is, or printed luxuriously, would indeed win attention
and credit, as a careful and interesting monograph of one of the most
interesting districts in the kingdom.’

                          (The London Review.)

‘Mrs. Linton’s literary sketches are full of true feeling for the
country they portray, and in imparting the writer’s own animation to the
reader, bring before his mental vision the glory and the gloom, the
majesty and the beauty, the pathos and the power, the loveliness and the
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Westmoreland. Of Mr. Linton’s designs we cannot speak too highly. They
are drawn and engraved with the hand of a master, and bring before our
vision, with exquisite truth and feeling, all the rugged beauty of the
land they commemorate.’


               London: SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 65 Cornhill.




                          Transcriber’s Notes


—Incorporated the errata below (from page ix in the original) into
  footnotes (and, if possible, changed in situ).

—Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public
  domain in the country of publication.

—Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and
  dialect unchanged.

—Corrected page numbers in the index for “Barton Cliffs, geology of”


                                ERRATA.

  Page 33, line 12,
     ” 55,   ” 19,      The derivation of Leap as given in the text
                          is very doubtful.
     ” 69,   ” 1,       _for_ which the Bishop of Hippo gives to the
                          canons of his own order, _read_ the
                          injunction of their order.
     ” 127,   ” 25,     _for_ Ripley _read_ Winkton.
     ” 192,   ” 8,      Rere-mouse is derived from the Old-English
                          _hrere-mus_, from _hreran_ to flutter,
                          literally the fluttering mouse, the exact
                          equivalent of the German Flitter-maus.