28 AWAKENING OF ENGLAND. 



The advancing figure was that of a post- 

 man with the mail-bag slung over his shoulder 

 and a cudgel in his hand. 



There, amid the lengthening shadows of 

 the beech grove, where the Norman barons at 

 one time hunted the wild boar, it was difficult 

 to swing one's mind round to a postman in 

 uniform prosaically delivering evening letters. 

 One can without difficulty imagine a postman 

 walking across Salisbury Plain, but a postman 

 in the heart of Savernake Forest seems some- 

 thing born of unreality. 



He gave a spur to my interest as we 

 walked together by telling me that he was 

 making his evening delivery, and that during 

 the whole day he never stepped outside the 

 fence which encloses the forest. He walked 

 twenty-two miles a day, and the marvel to 

 me was that there were sufficient houses 

 inside the forest fence to warrant the appoint- 

 ment of a forest postman. Tliere was, of 

 course, the house of the Marquis, the agent, 

 the steward, and a woodman's cottage here 

 and there, but these were scattered about. 



At night, in the breeding season, he has to 

 give a wide berth to stags, which are then 

 dangerous. On a pitch-dark night the breath 



