62 
BURNHAM BEECHES AND THE RECENT 
THINNINGS : A VISIT OF INSPECTION. 
HE valley of the Lower Thames was shrouded in fog as 
we took the train to Windsor on March i, so that our 
eyes were not offended by the hideous line of the 
Staines reservoir. No greater contrast could well have 
been designed than that between the monotonous level country 
on the borders of Middlesex and Buckinghamshire and the 
woodland in which one finds oneself at Burnham. Turning 
our backs on the majestic pile that towers over the royal 
borough, we drove through the narrow High Street of Eton, 
quaint with its many signs and full of the associations of learning, 
out into the fields, where larks were soaring and blue-tits and 
chaffinches flitted about the hedges beneath the tall elms trimmed 
as if to emulate Brussels sprouts ; and here, as elsewhere 
between this district and Hampton Court, we noted amid the 
bare boughs the wealth of mistletoe, growing on several different 
species of tree and almost recalling its abundance in Normandy. 
Passing many an interesting old house with fine cedar and quiet 
garden ; passing that not very noticeable elevation, Salt Hill, 
where — alas — the sacred, ancient rites of “ Montem ” are only 
represented by a “ building estate” of brand-new villas ; passing 
the pretty village pump of Farnham Royal and that comfortable 
little hostelry, the Crown Hotel, we find ourselves on an open 
heath, and are at “the Beeches.” Heather and bracken now 
dull in hue, diversified by many a deep green furze-bush, tell 
of the gravel and clay of the soil, while many a juniper bush, 
some of them of fine size, indicates the existence, as a subsoil, 
of the Chalk, which rises to the surface in the neighbouring 
river-cliffs of Cliveden and Windsor. Self-sown Scots firs and 
birches dot the margin of this heath or advance on to it in 
small clumps, and here no one would regret their presence or 
even their increase, lending as they do a charming diversity to 
the scene. 
We secured the services of one of the keepers as our guide, 
and very soon, leaving our vehicle to follow round by the road, 
we are wading knee-deep through the heather towards the first 
of the ancient pollard giants that stands near the head of the 
Upper Fish-pond. Here it is that we see the first signs of the 
cutting of which we liave heard so much in the newspapers 
of late. A good number of birches have been cut down to give 
room to this grand old beech ; but neither here nor anywhere 
else did we see those stumps measuring 40 in. — presumably 
in circumference — to which “ E. M. R.” alludes in the Spectator. 
To the felling of one tree at this spot we did take exception, and 
to one only, an oak which divided close to the ground into 
four stems, each measuring about three inches in diameter, and 
which we were assured had been a scrubby specimen. This had 
