markable for its oak, which buds every year in the depth of winter. The tree stands at a very short distance from the road, near a small enclosure; and, in the summer, has nothing to distinguish it from the various surrounding oaks.

The superstition of the foresters leads them to attribute the early budding of this tree, to the influence of old Christmas-day, when numbers of them assemble to witness it. But the germination is certainly gradual, according to the temperature of the season, and it frequently happens before Christmas. The most eminent botanists can no more account for this premature vegetation, than for that of the famous Glastonbury thorn. These early shoots, however, soon die away; and the tree, at the usual time with other oaks, puts on a similar clothing.*

At Cadenham, a direction post, on the left, points to Ringwood. This road we take, and soon enter a forest vista, of great beauty. Nothing interferes wi h the idea of forest; and for a moment we may fancy curselves carried back to the days when the Conqueror twanged. his bow amidst these regions of sylvan magnificence:

"With horn and voice

He cheers the busy hound, whose well-known cry
His listening peers approve with joint acclaim."

In ascending the hill, and looking back on the road, a windmill appears, in a direct line with the vista. Proceeding forward, the country opens on the right, and we have a good view towards Brook and Bramshaw.

*Further particulars may be seen in Gilpin's Forest Scenery, vol. i. p. 169.

On the summit of the hill, a road on the left turns to Minstead. But as we propose to visit Rufus's stone, we ride forward to one of the Inns at STONY CROSS, and inquire the nearest track.

It is in the bottom of a beautiful forest vale, adjoining the hamlet of Canterton, that this stone is erected, to point out the scene of William Rufus's death. It is almost too well known to be repeated, that this second king of the Norman line was accidentally slain by Sir Walter Tyrrel, his companion in the chase. A stag

passing by, the knight discharged his arrow at him; but the weapon, glancing against a tree, took a direction contrary to that which was intended, and pierced the monarch through the heart. Tyrrel, on seeing him fall, immediately escaped, and embarked for Normandy. The body was shortly after found by a forester, who placed it in his cart, and conveyed it to Winchester, where a plain tomb is still pointed out, as covering its remains. There is a tradition, that the name of the person who paid this attention to the deceased king was Purkess, a charcoal maker, whose immediate male descendants still reside near the spot. It has also been asserted, that part of the cart, on which the body was placed, existed till within a few years, when the only remaining wheel was wantonly committed to the flames.

About fifty years ago, the tree, on which the arrow glanced, became so mutilated and decayed, that the spot would perhaps have been forgotten, if some other memorial had not been raised. Before the stump was removed, the present triangular stone was erected, by the late Lord Delaware, who lived in one of the neighbouring

lodges. As the stone is greatly mutilated, owing to the ignorance of persons who break off fragments as relics of antiquity, the inscription is here inserted.

On the first side.

"Here stood the oak tree, on which an arrow, shot by Sir Walter Tyrrel at a stag, glanced, and struck King William II. surnamed Rufus, in the breast; of which stroke he instantly died, on the second day of August, 1100.

Second side.

"King William II. being thus slain, was laid in a cart, belonging to one Purkess, and drawn from hence to Winchester, and buried in the cathedral church of that city."

Third side.

"That the spot, where an event so memorable happened, might not hereafter be forgotten, this stone was set up by John Lord Delaware, who has seen the tree growing in this place."

His present Majesty's visit to this spot is also recorded on the stone, which was repaired, in 1789, by John Richard, earl Delaware.

The following extract from Mr. Rose's poem, previously referred to, contains so animated and circumstantial an account of the death of William Rufus, that we are persuaded the reader will be gratified by finding it transcribed in this place.

"Foremost, amid his knights of pride,
The Red King paced, and, at his side,
Sir Walter Tyrrel free:

For England's love he left his home,
And sail'd across the salt sea foam,..

From woods of Normandy.

He bare his bow before the king,
And led two greyhounds in a string,
With skins of snowy hue.

He was a ready man on horse;
Was better none to hunt of force,
Or brace the sounding yew.

And now the merry huntsman loose
Lyme-dog and greyhound from the noose:
Crack sapling, gorse, and thorn:

Then each man's hand was to his quiver,
Then rang the woods as they would shiver,
With hound and bugle horn.

Loud wax'd the merry cry 'Avaunt!"
While shrouded close in woody haunt
The gallants take their stand;
When, lo! a bart came bounding by;
The king a grey-goose shaft let fly,

Then rais'd his bridle hand.

So looking underneath the sun,
He saw the branching quarry run,

Unscaith'd, o'er bent and low;

And 'Ho!' he cried, 'the game's afoot! 'Ho! in the fiend's name, Tyrrel, shoot.'Sir Walter drew his bow.

He draws his bow with right good will;
The shaft, if it go true, must kill;

Back leaps the sounding string:
Miss'd of the deer the whistling reed;
A nobler prey was doom'd to bleed,—
No less than England's king.

The random dart an oak tree graz'd,
(I said the king's left arm was rais'd,)
It smote him in that side:

Deep in the flesh the fork-head stood,
And, quivering, drank his heart's best blood,
Which well'd a crimson tide.

East, west, and north, his meiny* fled,
The sad Sir Walter first, for dread;

So, without pray'r or host,
Without a priest his soul to speed,
Or friend to help him in his need,
He yielded up the ghost.

Thus in those fields the Red King died,
His father wasted in his pride;

For it is God's command,

Who doth another's birth-right reave,
The curse unto his blood shall cleave,-
And God's own word shall stand."

The last stanza refers to the oppressive tyranny of William the Conqueror, whom our old historians charge with having formed New Forest by exterminating the inhabitants residing in it at the time of his invasion, overturning their dwellings, destroying their implements of husbandry, and desecrating thirty-six, or, according to some authors, fifty-two, parish-churches. Voltaire was the first who expressed his doubts as to the credibility of this account. Mr. Warner, after much investigation, thought himself justified in forming the following conclusions.

"First, That in early times, previously to the reign of William, the tract of country now denominated New Forest, was a sterile and woody district, occupied by some

* Attendants,