180 OUT OF DOORS. 



face. But here was the stranger, waving its flaming 

 sword over our heads, and stretching its vast length 

 over a greater space of sky than was occupied by the 

 great comet of 1858, which had spent so many weeks in 

 attaining its full size. 



Much more is there to say of the New Forest, of 

 the many-tinted flowers, its wealth of insect life, its 

 wild and piquantly-flavoured fruits, and its wonderful 

 depth of foliage, its grand old trees, among which the 

 c king beech ' raises its royal head in token of supe- 

 riority. It is indeed almost a new world, and to a 

 Londoner affords a fresh current of ideas that regene- 

 rates the mind like fresh blood to the heart. Here all 

 conventionalities cease. Mrs. Grrundy could not live for 

 five minutes in the forest depths ; there are no neigh- 

 bours to criticise the appearance, no gossips to decry 

 the character. Man lives for a while the real unsophis- 

 ticated life of Nature, and, it may be, will learn many a 

 lesson for which he will be the better until his dying- 

 day, and perhaps after it. And those privileges may 

 be gained by just taking a railway ticket for the nearest 

 station to the Forest (say Southampton), where the 

 traveller will be deposited in less time than is often 

 occupied in getting to an awkward suburb of London. 

 But our space is at an end, and we must reluctantly bid 

 a farewell to that valued spot, hoping soon to visit it 

 again. 



