156 OUT OF DOORS, 



THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 



IT was a delicious summer evening, the fresh breeze 

 pouring new life into lungs choked with thick London 

 smoke, and the setting sun darting its last red rays 

 through the waving corn, when we issued from the 

 station door, wearied and cramped with long sitting in 

 a crowded carriage, and were heartily greeted by our 

 host, whose domains we were about to invade. A few 

 minutes served to settle us on the vehicle in waiting, 

 and the train had hardly proceeded on its course when 

 we were merrily bowling along towards our home in the 

 New Forest. 



Even the country drive was a luxury to those who 

 had for months been penned up in the very heart of the 

 metropolis, and, after a mile or so had been passed, 

 proved to be not without its excitement. The favourite 

 old horse hight Eufus, in honour of the second William, 

 and in allusion to his bay coat trotted off in great 

 spirits, knowing that every step took him nearer to his 

 stable. His owner, however, not wishing us to be taken 

 by surprise, mentioned casually that Rufus generally 

 fell down when descending a hill, and that he always 



