22 OAKS IN WINDSOR GREAT PARK. 



Thy forests, Windsor, and thy green retreats, 

 At once the Monarch's and the Muses' seats, 

 Invite my lays. 



POPE. 



THE immediate neighbourhood of Windsor Great 

 Park is rich in varied woodland scenery. There 

 are not only fine thriving Oaks, throwing out their 

 gigantic arms, but sturdy Pollards without end, 

 which seem to have set time, and seasons, and 

 decay at defiance. They are gnarled and knotted, 

 twisted and distorted, yet at the same time vigor- 

 ous and sound at heart, putting one in mind of a 

 weather-beaten old sailor whose limbs are firm 

 and his body healthy, although his hair is grey 

 and his face seamed with wrinkles. The beeches, 

 too, may be seen of all ages and sizes, picturesque 

 and beautiful in their decay, but while in full 

 vigour and dotted with their sparkling leaves, they 

 are the richest ornament of the wood. The holly 

 loves to nestle under the shelter of its graceful 

 pendulous branches, affording a contrast to its 

 smooth white trunk, on which here and there 

 some pretty lichen may be seen, as if placed there 

 on purpose by the hand of Nature to decorate her 

 favourite tree. I love a beech at all seasons of 



