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This Park comprises about 500 acres lying between the Castle 
and the Thames, and is richly adorned with forest trees, the 
English elm and oak predominating. Not far from the Kennels 
stands one of the old Norman oaks, which measured 30 feet 
5 inches in circumference at 5 feet up. Its bark was cork-like 
and corrugated, and parts of the hoary monarch were covered with 
zine to keep out the wind and water. Standing not far from it 
was one of a lot of fine elms, with a fluted bole 20 feet in girth. 
Near the footpath between Frogmore and Datchet there stood 
till 1863, when it was blown down, the most famous of all the 
Windsor trees, ‘° Herne’s Oak,” which Shakespeare in his Merry 
Wives of Windsor thus refers to— 
‘*There is an old tale goes, that Herne the Hunter, 
Sometime a keeper here in Windsor Forest, 
Doth all the winter time, at still midnight, 
Walk round about an oak, with great ragg’d horns ; 
And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle ; 
And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain 
In a most hideous and dreadful manner. 
Marry, this is our device ; 
That Falstaff at this oak shall meet with us, 
Disguised like Herne, with huge horns on his head.” 
A young oak has been planted by the Queen to mark the spot 
where grew for many ages this ancient monarch of the forest. A 
tablet affixed to the guard around it reads as follows :—‘‘ This tree 
was planted by Her Majesty Queen Victoria, Sept. 13, 1863, to 
mark the spot where Herne’s Oak stood. The old tree was blown 
down, Aug. 21, 1863.” At the time of our visit the tree was 
about 25 feet high, and in vigorous health. May the sapling 
flourish for many centuries, and record the gracious act through 
the far distant future. 
Standing on this classic spot and gazing around us, we cannot 
but think of the wonderful comedy from which the above lines are 
quoted, and imagine whether Shakespeare himself ever stood where 
we do now, and saw the oak tree he has commemorated to all 
time in the strength of its might and luxuriance of foliage! 
Why not? He may have stopped here to gaze around him as we 
are doing on his way to Datchet, the scene of the ducking of the 
valiant Falstaff. The thought is at least worth cherishing, and 
makes the spot doubly attractive and interesting to all lovers of 
Shakespearian story. Looking about us, then, we see in the 
