104 FRESH FIELDS 



Doubly precious is land in England, and yet so 

 much of it given to parks and pleasure-grounds, and 

 so much of it left unreclaimed in commons! These 

 commons are frequently met with; about Selborne 

 they are miles in extent, and embrace the Hanger 

 and other woods. No one can inclose them, or 

 appropriate them to his own use. The landed pro- 

 prietor of whose estates they form a part cannot; 

 they belong to the people, to the lease-holders. 

 The villagers and others who own houses on leased 

 land pasture their cows upon them, gather the 

 furze, and cut the wood. In some places the com- 

 mons belong to the crown and are crown lands. 

 These large uninclosed spaces often give a free-and- 

 easy air to the landscape that is very welcome. 

 Near the top of the hill I met a little old man 

 nearly hidden beneath a burden of furze. He was 

 backing it home for fuel and other uses. He 

 paused obsequious, and listened to my inquiries. 

 A dwarfish sort of man, whose ugliness was redo- 

 lent of the humblest chimney corner. Bent beneath 

 his bulky burden, and grinning upon me, he was 

 a visible embodiment of the poverty, ignorance, and, 

 I may say, the domesticity of the lowliest peasant 

 home. I felt as if I had encountered a walking 

 superstition, fostered beside a hearth lighted by 

 furze ifagots and by branches dropped by the nest- 

 ing rooks and ravens, — a figure half repulsive and 

 half alluring. On the border of Leechmere bottom 

 I sat down above a straggling copse, aflame as usual 

 with the foxglove, and gave eye and ear to the 



