102 
NATURE NOTES. 
quite refuse a peep at the country beyond. Soon, however, we 
reach opener and more uneven ground and, crossing a common 
deep in furze, enter a wood of oaks and holly. Here, by notice- 
board, the Lord of the Manor warns us not to encamp, or to cut 
hollies or underwood, and, by merely suggesting to us these 
freedoms, shows us that we are in a district where the land is 
not too severely appropriated. 
It is at Holly water that the P'orest really begins. This is a 
tiny hamlet by a pond, yet boasting an ale-house yclept the 
Oak-tree Inn. But we have now almost reached the limit of 
clay-loving oaks and holly. White tells us that “ Wolmer is 
nothing but a hungry sandy barren waste ; ” and indeed the 
natural vegetation is that of a southern heath, ling, heather, 
bilberry and bracken, the whole land being open to the wind 
and sky. Such a range, undisturbed by agriculture, or wood- 
craft, or any arts of man, is what the red deer loves. He seeks 
a wide, free, open country with covert only in the gullies and 
dingles, and such was Wolmer Forest in the olden time when it 
was first set apart as a royal hunting ground. This poor soil 
will not nourish the trees of the surrounding woodlands, and 
acorns and hazel-nuts are dropped on it in vain, but during the 
last half century great plantations of Scotch fir have been made 
and these have thriven exceedingly. These woods have quite 
changed the natural aspect of this great waste ; but there are 
still wide tracts of native heath which amply preserve the flora 
and fauna, and I cannot but think that these vast groves of our 
beautiful indigenous fir have given an additional charm to this 
moorland, as they have certainly increased its wealth. They 
yield timber whilst preparing the soil for agriculture. The deer 
were gone before White’s time, to his great regret ; but I think 
he would hardly lament this further change. Among the red 
trunks and blue-green foliage I wandered, encountering with joy 
the green woodpecker, until on ascending a slope, I found Wolmer 
Pond below me. The view was extensive and varied. I was 
now on the verge of the forest, and looking on the uplands to the 
north-west, hill and wood were mingled in charming confusion. 
A down with hanging woods abounded the horizon, and beneath 
it I could note the hollow, from which a faint smoke was arising, 
where Selborne nestled. 
Wolmer Pond since White’s time has been shorn of much of 
its glory. It is no longer a secluded spot. An ugly road now 
runs alongside it and houses have been built. Moreover, through 
some misadventure in draining or delving, it has lost half its 
waters and is now a very shallow mere, almost drying up in hot 
summers. The fish are gone and the water-fowl, yet a great 
flock of lapwings were feeding on the oozy shores, and the east 
bank, which rises into a little cliff of hardened sand, still houses 
a large colony of the smallest of W’hite’s beloved hirundines. 
Beyond this little cliff the ground still swells until it forms a 
considerable knoll in the moorland, and here a green mound 
