21 
which we find more difficulty in forgiving than one against ourselves. It would be impossible to see such a noble 
tree as the Crawley Elm felled without regret ;—its aged head brought prostrate to the ground, its still green 
branches despoiled in the dust, its spreading roots left bare and desolate. The old would miss it, as the object» 
that brought back to them the recollections of their youth; the young would lament for it, as having hoped to 
talk of it when they should be old themselves. The traveller who had heard of its beauty would look for it in 
vain, to beguile him on the road; and the weary wanderer, returning to his long-left home, would scarcely 
know his paternal roof when robbed of the shade of the branches which he had seen wave even before his cradle. 
A stately forest is one of the grandest sights in creation ; an insulated tree, one of the most beautiful. In the deep 
recesses of a wood an aged tree commands a veneration, similar to that which we are early taught to feel towards 
the possessor of royalty, or the minister of religion; but in a hamlet, or on a green, we regard it with the gentler 
reverence due to a parent, or the affection inspired by the presence of a long-tried friend. 
PLATE XXXIII—THE OAKS AT BURLEY, 
CALLED 
THE TWELVE APOSTLES. ° 
Tuts fine group of Oaks, twelve in number, stands on the lawn at Burley Lodge, New Forest, the property 
of Lord Bolton. The largest of them is seven yards and a half in circumference. They are known by the name 
of the Twelve Apostles, and perhaps this designation unconsciously adds to the feelings of reverence and regard 
which their venerable appearance, and their proximity to each other, as if drawn together by bonds of friendship, 
are calculated to inspire. There is a solemnity in a group of ancient trees that irresistibly disposes the mind to 
serious thought, and carries it back to former ages : ; 
“Tt seems idolatry with some excuse Of amnesty, the meed of blood divine, 
When our forefather Druids in their oaks Loved not the light, but, gloomy, into gloom 
Imagined sanctity. The conscience, yet, Of thickest shades, like Adam after taste 
Unpurified by an authentic act Of fruit proscribed, as toa refuge fled.”—Cowrzr. 
Chardin, who published his Travels in Turkey in the 17th century, remarks, that the religious Mahometans 
chose to pray under old trees, rather than in the neighbouring mosques: “ They devoutly reverence,” says he, 
“those trees which seem to have existed during many ages; piously believing that the holy men of former times 
had prayed and meditated under their umbrageous shade.” With such feelings, no wonder that they place their 
highest gratification in reclining under the widely-spreading branches of some fine tree, and regard the destruc- 
tion of one as an act of sacrilege. 
The beautiful forest scenery with which the Oaks at Burley are surrounded on every side, predispose the 
lover of sylvan objects to be pleased with them, at the same time that they awaken in his breast an ardent desire 
to see every tree that bows its head to the earth, either by natural decay, by the fury of the elements, or the 
more furious and unpitying axe, replaced by a whole group of successors. “The value of timber,” says Gilpin, 
“is its misfortune: every graceless hand can fell a tree.” But the hand that fells an oak can likewise plant an 
acorn; and this restitution to mother earth is surely due from those who despoil her of her noblest and most 
ancient treasures, to satisfy some low necessity of the passing moment. Sir Robert Walpole planted with his 
own hands many of the magnificent trees which are now the pride of Houghton ; and of all the actions of his 
busy life, this is one which seems to have given him most gratification in the performance, and most pleasure in 
the retrospect. “Men,” says Evelyn, “seldom plant trees till they begin to be wise; that is, till they grow 
old, and find by experience the prudence and necessity of it.” Cicero mentions planting as one of the most 
delightful occupations of old age, and it is indeed of all pursuits connected with the interests of mankind, one of 
the most nobly disinterested, yet the most truly wise. He who puts a sapling into the ground, is morally certain 
that he shall not live to enjoy the shade of its matured branches ; but he enjoys it every day, and a thousand 
fold, in the thought, that the land, which to his predecessors had been only a barren waste, will present to his 
successors a scene of waving beauty, sheltering the surrounding country, and inviting many a devious step to 
f 
