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common; they are bad to the lover of | he said, "let the prohibition be immedirural walks, for whom footpaths are an- ately withdrawn." nihilated; they are bad to those for whom the scenes of their youth are blotted from the face of the world. These last are of no account in ledger balances, which profess to demonstrate that the loss of the poor is more than counterbalanced by the gain of the rich; that the aggregate gain is the gain of the community; and that all matters of taste and feeling are fitly represented by a cypher. So be it.
George the Fourth's exclusions and high fences had not, however, effectually secured to him the secrecy he desired. On an eminence outside of the royal grounds, stood, and still stands, in the midst of a pine grove, a tower, which from its form was commonly called the ClockCase. This tower, and the land round it, has been sold for a small sum, as a lot in a sale of crown lands. The tower was in two or three stories, and was inhabited by a poor family, who had a telescope, supplied, most probably, by the new proprietor, on the platform of the roof, which rose high above the trees, and commanded an extensive view of the lake. This tower and its grounds became a place of great resort for picnic parties, and visitors of all kinds, who kept up a perpetual suc cession at the telescope, while the royal angler and his fair companion were fishing. This became an intolerable nuisance to the would-be recluse. He set on foot a negotiation for re-purchasing the ClockCase. The sum demanded was many times the multiple of the purchase money. The demand was for some time resisted, but the proprietor was inflexible. The sum required was paid, the property reverted to the crown, and the public were shut out from the Clock-Case and its territory. When William the Fourth succeeded, this story was told to him, and he said: "A good place for a view, is it? I will put an old couple into it, and give them a telescope;" which was done without loss of time. I saw and conversed with this old couple, and looked through their telescope.
About the same time, William the Fourth was sitting one Sunday evening in a window of Windsor Castle, when the terrace was thronged with people. A heavy rain came on, and the people ran in all directions. He said to some one near him, "This is the strangest thing I ever saw; so many English people, without an umbrella among them." He was told that by order of his late Majesty, umbrellas were prohibited on the terrace. "Then,"
In the early days of his reign he was fond of walking about, not only in Windsor, but in London. It pleased him to be among the people. In one of his walks he noticed in Windsor Little Park, a board with an inscription by which all persons were "ordered " to keep the footpath. He desired that "requested" might be substituted. He was told that " requested would not be attended to. He said: "If they will not attend to requested,' that is their affair; I will not have 'ordered.""
A most good-natured, kind-hearted gentleman was William the Fourth; but to record the many instances of good feeling in his sayings and doings which came within my knowledge, would be foreign to the purpose of the present paper.
The act for the enclosure of Windsor Forest contained the following clause : WINDSOR FOREST, 53rd Geo. III., cap. 158.
LXIV. And be it further enacted, that from and after the first day of July one thousand eight hundred and fourteen, all and singular the Lands, Tenements, and HereditaLiberties (save and except such Parts thereof ments within the said respective Parishes and respectively as are now or shall or may become vested in His Majesty, or any Person or Persons in Trust for Him by virtue hereof) shall be, and the same is and are hereby, disafforested to all Intents and Purposes whatsoever; and that from thenceforth no Person or Persons shall be questioned or liable to any Pain, Penalty, or Punishment for hunting, coursing, killing, destroying, or taking any Deer whatsoever within the same, save and except within such Part or Parts thereof (if any) as shall be enclosed with Pales and kept for a Park or Parks by the Owners, Lessees, or Tenants thereof.
There can be little doubt that the exception in favor of the crown was intended to apply to all the provisions of the clause; but it was held by counsel learned in the law that it applied to the first half only, and that after the specified day it was lawful to kill deer in any portion of the old forest not enclosed with pales, whether such portion had or had not been vested in the crown. The crown allotment had
been left as it was.
Armed with this opinion, a farmer of Water Oakley, whose real I have forgotten in his assumed name, calling himself Robin Hood, and taking with him two of his men, whom he called Scarlet and Little John, sallied forth daily into the forest to kill the king's deer, and returned home every evening loaded with spoil.
Lord Harcourt, who was then deputy | horses, and the full sounds of the bugles. ranger of the forest, and discharged all Last appeared the cavalry, issuing from the duties of superintendence (for the the woods, and ranging themselves in a ranger, who was a Royal Highness, of semi-circle, from horn to horn of the rope course, did nothing), went forth also, as fencing. The open space was filled with the representative of Majesty, to put down deer, terrified by the chase, confused by these audacious trespassers. In my for- their own numbers, and rushing in all est rambles I was a witness to some of directions, the greater part through the their altercations; Lord Harcourt threat-park opening; many trying to leap the ening to ruin Robin Hood by process in the Court of Exchequer; Robin Hood setting him at defiance, flourishing the act of Parliament, and saying, "My lord, if you don't know how to make acts of Parliament, I'll teach you."
One day I was walking towards the Dingle, when I met a man with a gun, who asked me if I had seen Robin Hood. I said I had just seen him at a little distance in discussion with Lord Harcourt, who was on horseback, Robin Hood being on foot. He asked me to point out the direction, which I did; and in return, I asked him who he might be. He told me he was Scarlet. He was a pleasantlooking man, and seemed as merry as his original; like one in high enjoyment of sport.
This went on some time. The law was not brought to bear on Robin Hood, and it was finally determined to settle the matter by driving the deer out of the forest into the park. Two regiments of cavalry were employed for this purpose, which was kept as secret as possible, for a concourse of people would have been a serious impediment to the operation.
I received intelligence of it from a friend at court, who pointed out to me a good position from which to view the close of the proceedings.
My position was on a rising ground, covered with trees, and overlooking an extensive glade. The park was on my left hand, the main part of the forest on the right and before me. A wide extent of the park paling had been removed, and rope fencing had been carried to a great length, at oblique angles from the opening. It was a clear, calm, sunny day, and for a time there was profound silence. This was first broken by the faint sound of bugles, answering each other's signals from remote points in the distance; drawing nearer by degrees, and growing progressively loud. Then came two or three straggling deer, bounding from the trees, and flying through the opening of the park pales. Then came greater numbers, and ultimately congregated herds; the beatings of their multitudinous feet mingled with the trampling of the yet unseen
rope fencing, in which a few were hurt; and one or two succeeded, escaping to their old haunts, most probably to furnish Robin Hood with his last venison feast. By degrees the mass grew thinner; at last all had disappeared, the rope fencing shut up the park for the night, the cavalry rode off towards Windsor, and all again was silent.
This was, without any exception, the most beautiful sight I ever witnessed; but I saw it with deep regret, for, with the expulsion of the deer, the life of the old scenes was gone, and I have always looked back on that day as the last day of Windsor Forest. T. L. PEACOCK.
From Temple Bar.
SOME CLERICAL REMINISCENCES.
It was a pleasure to me, as a former Rugby School house boy, to know that I should be admitted into holy orders by my old master, Doctor Tait. The awe which a young candidate feels for his bishop was in my case tempered by that friendly confidence which comes from many happy memories. Respect and even reverence will always be attached to the memory of Archbishop Tait, but under that commanding presence lay a force of genial kindness which attracted the affections of all who knew him.
The rooms in which we were examined looked out upon beautiful gardens, and as it was summer, the windows were open, and the candidates were allowed to go in and out, and sit under the trees or stroll in the grounds. I was thus absent when one of the examiners came in and told the candidates that each of them was to write a short sermon or address, afterwards to be read to the bishop, in reply to the last question, "Give St. Paul's description of the Christian armor." Of this I was not told, and consequently gave, in a few lines and in my own words, St. Paul's description. Next morning the candidates were called in one by one, and standing at a lectern at one end of a long room were desired to read their sermon to
"Well," said the bishop at last, “proceed Mr. But before long he stopped him once more, and said, "Thank you, that will do. There is no doubt of one thing, Mr. You will always be listened to." And the bishop's prophecy has came true, for, orthodox or unorthodox, the preacher always has been listened to.
the bishop and examiners who sat at the | the point on which he had succeeded in other end of the room. When my turn setting them by the ears. came, I had, of course, no sermon to read, and explained the reason, namely, that I had not heard how the question was to be treated. "Never mind," said Bishop Tait, "read what you have written." "Do you intend to preach always to your congregation in this way?" said the bishop. "At any rate, never think you can improve upon the Bible by substituting your own words for those of the text. It is apt to sound like the Bible and water."
This mention of Dr. Stanley reminds me of the high and affectionate estimation in which he was held by Bishop Tait, who used to warn candidates that the examinaThe candidates for priest's orders had tion in his diocese was harder than in to undergo a much more trying ordeal. others, for "Dr. Stanley is one of the exEach of them was required to preach a aminers.' The peculiar gift of Dr. Stanshort extempore sermon from the pulpit inley was undoubtedly his attractive power the chapel to the bishop and Dr. Stanley, of making history not only interesting but who formed the sole congregation; but the fascinating, How well I remember the poor candidate, however, was denied the first time I ever heard him lecture! It security usually accorded to the preacher, was on a morning of pouring rain that I for the bishop asserted a right refused went unwillingly to the divinity school to to congregations, and occasionally inter- hear, as I expected, one of those dull and rupted and criticised the sermon. This repulsive discourses which undergradunaturally led to incidents of a somewhat ates had inflicted on them by highly paid ludicrous character, which were of course university professors. On entering the not usually divulged, but occasionally room I was surprised to find it so full that proved irresistible, even to the highest I had difficulty in obtaining a seat, and I discretion. Thus it is said that one unfor- remarked that many ladies were among tunate candidate who had no gift that way, the audience. Presently the vice-chanand was quite overwhelmed with nervous-cellor entered with the proctors; and ness, began stammering: "I will divide my congregation into two- the converted and the unconverted." This proved too much for the bishop's sense of humor, and he exclamed, "I think, sir, as there are only two of us, you had better say which is which."
The advantage was not always however on the side of the bishop; for when one who has since become a popular London preacher was a candidate, he showed no nervousness whatever, but rather rejoiced at the opportunity afforded him for airing some of his highly original views before the bishop and Dr. Stanley. Before he had gone very far the bishop exhibited signs of restlessness, and at last exclaimed,
"But stop, stop, Mr. do you not see that what you are saying is altogether wrong?" at the same time pointing out what orthodoxy required.
"And yet," said Dr. Stanley, turning to the bishop, "may he not be justified if you look at it from this point of view?" And then the broad-hearted doctor kindly and characteristically urged a wider and more liberal understanding. Meanwhile the candidate gazed with inward satisfaction on his two examiners as they argued
soon the door opened, and in shuffled a little figure in big goloshes and carrying a large dripping umbrella, but with a face whose radiance sensibly brightened the atmosphere of gloom with which a rainy day at Oxford is depressingly associated. Hurrying to his raised desk, the professor began to read his lecture upon Solomon from a large manuscript which he drew forth, and at once he riveted the attention of all present. To me it was nothing short of a revelation to perceive that ecclesiastical history could be a source of pleasure. Yet perhaps the doctor was seen at his best at his private lectures, when, seated on a low chair in his garden at Christ Church, with a pile of books by his side, and the undergraduates arranged around him on the grass, he poured out his rich stores of knowledge, illustrated with many a humorous anecdote and graphic description. He spoke from his heart, with his face glowing with delight, and so imbued his hearers with his own enthusiasm that the thrill of that strong impulse still stirs within me as I write. Dr. Stanley had his own strong views, and he was not backward in letting us know in which direction his breadth of sympathy enlarged itself. Addressing the
candidates at Fulham, I remember his | fell from the pulpit. The dean, who saw
"I have been surprised to find that one gentleman has not hesitated to state that St Paul was the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews, an assertion which if made from the pulpit would shock the ears of every, educated person in the congregation."
The object which the bishop had in view when he required all candidates to make such an attempt at extempore preaching was to set them free from the bondage of dependence upon written sermons, and to give an authoritative impulse to extempore preaching. He was too wise to suppose that every man would succeed, but none would discover what gifts he possessed unless he tried, and at that time very few ever tried, or even wished, to preach extempore. It was the custom to sneer at such preaching as sure to be of a ranting character, and below the dignity of the Established Church. Now that the change has been accomplished it is hard to realize the former state of things, and one wonders that no sense of shame was ever felt by educated men when they were placed in predicaments by their incapacity to say a few plain words when the occasion called for them. As one instance of this I dare say Oxford men will remember how a clerical divine undertook to ride over and take a service for a friend in an outlying village, and started comfortably with his sermon in his pocket. He had gone some little distance when he found that the sermon had disappeared. Overwhelmed with helplessness - for it was too late and too far for him to turn home to replace his loss he suddenly remembered with joy that he must pass near a neighboring village, the rector of which he knew, and he might borrow a sermon from him. With his friend's sermon in his pocket, he once more rode on happily, and arriving at the church went through the service in cheerful confidence, until he found himself in the pulpit standing before the expectant congregation. Then, placing his hand in his pocket, he found to his horror that there was no sermon there, and he exclaimed with irresistible emotion: "By Jove, I've lost that one too! And that was all the sermon the people got that day.
In honorable contrast to this story it will be remembered that when Dr. Tait preached for the first time at St. Paul's, a sudden draft of wind scattered the leaves of his unfastened manuscript, and they
sitting near, saw the papers fall, and, not thinking that they could be the sermon, stooped and picked them up, and calmly placed them in his pocket. The bishop showed no hesitation, but, quite undisturbed by what had happened, proceeded calmly to deliver the rest of the sermon extemporaneously.
At the same time I would not depreciate written sermons, which ought, however, at least in matter, to surpass extempore ones. Even in manner and effect, too, written sermons may be so delivered as to render the audience unconscious of the fact that they are written. I have heard it confidently asserted that no orator or preacher in our time has produced such effects as Henry Melvill did when he preached at Camberwell. It was even necessary for him at times to pause, in order that the congregation might draw breath and recover itself. And yet, on reading his sermons in the manuscripts, as he delivered them, however much one might admire their language and careful preparation, it was impossible to understand the extent of the fascination. Canon Liddon and Archdeacon Farrar always preach from written sermons. Yet, with all that, who can contend that the fire of enthusiasm or of indignation or any other strong emotion can be kindled by words read from a page previously composed as effectively as when the utterance glows with a force which is being actually experienced and exerted in one's presence? The congregation under such conditions are not an audience only, but are enlisted as assistants with their sympathy. Surely this is the secret of the great power orators and preachers wield, and at this they should surely aim. Imagine, too, St. Peter being unable to preach to Cornelius and those who were assembled with him, or St. Paul declining to address the men of Athens, because either the one or the other had not written down beforehand what he would like to say! Certainly Dr. Tait's influence did its work, and preaching has undoubtedly improved.
The solemn nature of an ordination examination is sufficient to insure a happy freedom from all attempts at untruthfulness or imposition, and consequently an affectionate confidence takes the place of that suspicion which usually forms so painful an element in examinations. Unpleasant incidents have however been known to cast a passing shadow upon such occasions even in the best-regulated dioceses. It is said that a well-known bishop
was once informed by his examiners that | relating to their history." To this a girl they had reason to think two of the can- had answered: "The most remarkable didates had been guilty of collusion. The ruin of which I have heard is that of the bishop looked at the papers and saw that several of the questions had been answered by both candidates in identical words. Feeling convinced that this was sufficient evidence of copying, he addressed all the candidates, and told them with what sorrow he had found that two gentlemen had been guilty of a deed so dishonorable as to disqualify them for holy orders. As, however, he wished to spare himself and them the pain of any investigation, he would leave it, he said, to their consciences, and he trusted that no gentleman who had copied would present himself again that afternoon.
In the afternoon, however, it was found that no candidate was absent, and the bishop again addressed them, saying that he feared he had not made his meaning clear, and now he would only say he hoped that the gentlemen who knew they had copied would think over what had happened, and withdraw from the examination next day. It is needless to say that some anxiety was felt among the candidates that night as to the effect of the bishop's words, and it was with surprise that the next morning again it was found that all were present. Then the bishop, feeling himself unable any longer to refrain from action, said: "I regret that my kind intention to show consideration to the candidates has not been appreciated, and my suggestion has not been acted upon. It becomes impossible for me therefore to spare you any longer. Mr.
—, and Mr. —, stand up." The two candidates on being named did stand up, and most indignantly protested their entire innocence of such a charge. On being confronted with their papers they explained the strange similarity of their answers by the fact that both had been taught by the same tutor, and had been made by him to learn by heart certain sentences which he had dictated for the sake of accuracy, and they had thus incurred suspicion most unjustly.
Examiners ought to be very careful lest they should be tempted to pronounce lightly upon prima facie evidence as to copying. I have been assured by one of her Majesty's inspectors that upon one occasion he was looking through some papers sent by candidates in Scotland, when he came upon a very singular answer. The question was, "Describe any remarkable ruins with which you may be acquainted, and mention any particulars
South Sea Bubble, as it was called," and she then went on to give particulars of it. The examiner was amused at this, as he thought, Scotch limitation of the idea of ruin, but went on with the papers. Presently he came upon the paper of another girl who had answered the question in exactly the same words. Here," he exclaimed, "is a clear case of copying." To his surprise, however, he found on further investigation that one girl had written her paper in Edinburgh and the other in Glasgow at the same time.
But perhaps the most amusing instance of such mistaken judgments occurred in the schools at Oxford. An examiner who prided himself on his shrewdness was determined that he would make it impossible for any copying to take place under his supervision. Accordingly he not only kept a very sharp and constant watch upon the candidates, but peered at them from time to time between the fingers of his hands spread before his face. At last he thought he detected a man in something which looked very suspicious. Looking from side to side to satisfy himself that no one observed him, the man plunged his hand into his breast pocket, and drawing something out, regarded it long and steadfastly, and then, hastily replacing it, resumed his pen and wrote with obviously increased energy. The examiner pretended not to notice this, but after a time he rose from his seat, and with his hands in his pockets strolled round the room with an appearance of negligence and indifference to what was going on. By these means he succeeded in disarming suspicion, and getting to windward of his prey, stole upon him from behind gradually and unperceived. Then waiting patiently, his strategy was rewarded by observing that the man once more turned his head from side to side, yet not quite far enough to see him, and once more put his hand into his breast pocket. Then the examiner sprang forward in elation, and seized the hand in the very act of grasping the suspected object.
Sir," said he, "this is the fourth time I have watched you doing this. What have you in your hand?"
The man hesitated to reply, and this, coupled with his evident confusion, confirmed the suspicions of the examiner.
"I must insist, sir, on seeing what it is you have in your hand."
The man reluctantly complied, and