7.

AUTUMN FROM BRAMBLE HILL.

W

E are inclined

to think

that few

people properly realize how deep is the debt of gratitude which they owe to the English Press for the powerful support it has given during recent years to the struggle

which has been carried on-and successfully carried on-for the preservation of the still splendid remnants of our ancient woodlands. Let those who wish to be fully impressed with this

sense of obligation take the opportunity of looking down upon the New Forest from the height of Bramble Hill. Possibly not one person in a thousand has even heard of Bramble Hill, and the number is certainly very small of those who have, from the eminence presented by its southern acclivity, obtained what is probably the finest and most extensive woodland view to be obtained in any part of this fair England of ours.

The day following our arrival at Bramshaw we stand on the brow of this hill, which forms a prominent and conspicuous landmark in what is called the hill country' of the New Forest, and which rises-on the northernmost limits of the Conqueror's hunting-ground-from the wooded valley, in the depths of which lies the pretty little village of Bramshaw. In the morning great masses of storm-cloud had swept up over the forest from the sea and discharged some heavy showers. But towards mid-day the sky began to clear, and when we reach our point of view on the hill the clouds have broken up into great foam-white masses, and the sun shines out with singular brilliancy from a large expanse of blue.