PRINCE &- PEASANT, PEER ^ PHEASANT 113 



There, as he shines in the sun, and picks the forgotten 

 sunflower seed from the upturned earth, or scratches 

 the acorn from the russet leaf-carpet, he seems no 

 stranger, he is no exotic. He is a part and parcel of 

 the greatest and most refined prize the earth affords — 

 the possession of an English estate. The lapse of 

 centuries, since the Roman legions camped on the 

 slopes of Wimbledon or the wolds of York, have not 

 dulled the wild blood which he brought with him 

 from the Mongolian forests, nor dispossessed him from 

 the glades and dells, the heaths and uplands of Merry 

 England which he has made his own. 



Must all this go ? For, surely, if the pheasant 

 goes, if an English sport or pastime disappears, so 

 dear, so much more vital than the superficial critic 

 thinks to the existence of the country gentleman, and 

 to the prosperity of his dependants, then must the 

 great estates go also : the lordly parks and castles, the 

 generous hospitality, the wide charity, the benevolent 

 despotism which lightens the burdens, while it never 

 curbs the liberty, of the denizens of so many peaceful 

 villages in England ; the enterprise, commerce and 

 instruction, the protection, justice and standard of 

 life, which should, and mostly do, radiate from a great 

 English country house — then must all these things go 

 also. Where depopulation and waste lands do not 



