9 6 SURREY SCENES 



right lie sound lawns, cropped by cattle hung with 

 tinkling bells ; and at the lake's head a narrow bed of 

 sedges harbours the few water-fowl which haunt the 

 pool. Above, in the heart of the pine-woods, are 

 tiny rills and basins, into which the trout ascend to 

 spawn. Few cottages and fewer farms lie by these 

 upland pools. Wood is the only crop, which needs a 

 seven- years' season to mature, and no man to till the 

 soil. Bad times and wet harvests do not touch the 

 Surrey woods, or make the forester's or keeper's roof- 

 tree cold. " Lonely ? No, never," is the keeper's 

 answer to our inquiry. " It's a deal lonelier in the 

 woods ; and what do I want with people ? I want 

 things quiet, and home is good enough for me when I 

 come back." He, his wife, and children are almost as 

 dependent on the " ponds " as the wild-fowl and the 

 trout. The stream waters their meadow, fills their 

 cress-bed, gives them perch and trout, seasons their 

 withy-baskets, brews their tea and beer, and, in winter, 

 supplies stray wild-duck and teal, shot in the grey 

 dawn, and woodcocks snared in the " bottoms." The 

 keeper would not take the warmest lodge in a lowland 

 park in exchange for his cottage by the upland pond. 



