The Chief Object of the Book. 



heather, and bronzed with the fading fern. Nowhere in England 

 rise such oak-woods, their boughs rimed with the frostwork 

 of Hchens, 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. 



Esjoecially 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 gloiy 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 diflereuce 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 



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