THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST. 173 



side to side like an accomplished skater on the outside 

 edge, but appearing to make its way through the air as 

 if by simple volition. Bright-plumaged woodpeckers 

 fled screaming through the forest depths, and many a 

 tree-trunk bore witness of their persevering labours. 



The human population of the forest have, in course 

 of time, become deeply saturated with the wild uncul- 

 tivated air of the region in which they reside, and many 

 an aged man has never seen a town in his life, or 

 ventured beyond the limits of the familiar forest lands. 

 A practised eye can mostly detect a forester at a glance, 

 a strange family likeness being observable in all who 

 have passed their existence in this place — probably 

 owing to the continual intermarriages which necessarily 

 occur among them. Even the tone of voice is of a 

 peculiar nature, and the drawling, high-pitched chant 

 of the thorough-bred forester is not likely to be forgotten 

 if once heard. In fact, the forest is to its aborigines 

 what the desert is to its nomad Aiabs ; and the wild 

 Bedouin can hardly feel more terror at the idea of 

 entering the habitations of civilised man than does 

 the forester at the notion of exchanging the trees for 

 houses. 



I remember that on one occasion, after the hay had 

 been got in, a cartload was destined for some stables at 

 Southampton. The fragrant trusses were placed on 

 the waggon, the horses harnessed, and all was ready for 

 the journey, when an unexpected diflficulty arose in the 

 person of the carter, a fine yoimg fellow of six-and- 



N 2 



