AN INTERVIEW WITH GILBERT WHITE. 183 
“ I very greatly approve of it,” he replied ; “ but we kept the 
village in a tidier state than is now the case. Probably you 
have observed that the zigzag path, which was made by my 
brothers and myself, has now become much defaced and over- 
grown with bushes. I miss the maypole, too, which stood on 
the Plestor. It had a fine .gilded vane, which I remember 
to have been merely a fixed one, and, therefore, useless, the last 
time it was restored. I successfully resisted the innovation, 
however.” 
“ Did you make the zigzag yourselves, sir ? ” I said. 
“Not exactly with our own hands,” he replied; “though I 
think my brother Jack, of Corpus Christi College, Oxford, worked 
at it as a boy. We used to collect subscriptions for the purpose, 
and at our parlour games in the winter evenings paid forfeits 
towards the work ; my brothers Thomas and Benjamin were 
liberal subscribers wherever it needed repair.” 
“ And the Hermitage, sir, nothing now remains of it ; where 
did it stand exactly ? ” 
“ At some distance to the right of where you now are,” he 
replied. “ We used often to meet there to drink tea. I re- 
member, particularly, one summer when the Miss Batties ” 
“The ]\Iiss B to whom your poem on ‘Selborne Hanger’ 
was addressed ? ” I interrupted. 
“Yes,” he said; “they were three very handsome young 
ladies, cousins of Mrs. Etty, the vicar’s wife (who was a Miss 
Littleton), and used frequently to make a summer visit at her 
house. I recollect my youngest brother Harry had a vast 
flirtation with one of them — Miss Kitty Battie. She married 
eventually a Cornish squire, and the others also became the 
ladies of men of quality. In fine weather we often made a 
party to drink tea at the Hermitage. Sometimes Mr. Thomson’s 
or other poems were read aloud ; and often we sang rounds and 
catches together.” 
“ And who was the ‘ young gentleman ’ whom you mention 
as acting the part of the hermit ? ” I asked. 
“ My brother Harry,” he answered, “ used to dress up as the 
hermit, and I thought he acted the part very well. It was sup- 
posed to be a secret, but one which, I think, most of our friends 
guessed.” 
Just at this moment a large brown bird flew noisily out of 
a beech-tree below us. I turned to look at it, and exclaimed : 
“ Why, there is surely a honey-buzzard ! ” When I turned 
again to my companion I found myself alone. And I had for- 
gotten to use my kodak ! 
All the friends to whom I have told this strange experience 
are pleased to remark on the strength of the Alton ale, the heat 
of the day, &c. But if I dreamed all this, how did I contrive 
to dream all the information I received, which I have certainly 
never seen in print ? It was not a dream. No, sir ! 
Civis Americanus. 
