200 OUR WOODLAND TREES. 
which falls upon the glade, to be reflected in 
the fierce and glaring eyes of a host of furious 
warriors. The glorious sun of a summer day 
is shining effulgently down upon the radiant 
forest. Tall Trees still rise against the clear blue 
of the sky, their leaves quivering and dancing in 
the sunny rays as the soft wind gently blows. 
But the bright sun shines and the gentle wind 
blows upon a bright and gentle scene. It is no 
martial music that has attracted our attention, 
but the sweet cadence of a gentle air. No brawny 
warriors are crowded into the clearing. Gentle 
forms are there. The rays of the summer sun 
are reflected, but this time it is from ladies’ eyes. 
But the ladies are not alone. A band of persons 
of both sexes has assembled with an earnest ob- 
ject, namely, to help in the work of preserving 
Epping Forest from illegal encroachment. 
Highteen hundred years have not rolled away 
without producing vast changes. The great 
wood which then densely covered the country, 
and stretched away for many a mile in all its 
ancient grandeur, has been sadly shorn, as we 
have said, of its pristine loveliness, and is now 
