IV A LK S EPPING FOREST MY PERCY L1NBLEY ILLUSTRATE!} MODERATE P H/EMITJM S. ^AN NUAL VAL UATIONS. EQUITABLE DISTRIBUTION PROFITS. LIBE RAL CONDITIONS OF ASSUR ANCE. Unconditional indisputability after 5 years, if life is then aged 30. Large Surrender Values. Loans granted to extent of Surrender Values. IMMEDIATE PAYMENT OP CLAIMS. or Prospectus, Proposal Form, and every Information, apply to the Actuary. PHILLIPS & CO.'S TRADE MARK REGISTERED. TWO PRIZE MEDALS, International Exhibition, 1884, AND PRIZE MEDALS, FOOD EXHIBITIONS, 1880-81-82, OR SUPERIOR EXCELLENCE IN TEA, COFFEE, & COCOA. PHILLIPS & CO., IMPORTERS OF THE FINEST TEAS, COFFEES, COCOAS, COLONIAL AND CONTINENTAL PRODUCE, ALSO OF The Faience and Art Manufactures of Japan, China, and India. TEA AND COFFEE DEPARTMENT 1 8> KIM WILLIAM ^\, CITY, LONDON, E.C. ANU Urrlbto! ) (JQ| SUPPLY STORES, AND SHOW > in adja t premises, ROOMS: J 13 and 14, AJOjHURCH LANE, And 10 & 11, Grand Hotel Buildings, Charing Cross. MANUFACTURERS OF PURE COCOAS AND CHOCOLATES. All Goods are sold at the Lowest Market Prices, and are guaranteed to be of the possible value and quality. MONTHLY BOOK OF PRICES POST FREE ON APPLICATION. All Goods Carriase Free to London and Suburbs; to Country by arrangement. The Public is invited to inspect the Oriental Art Collections at 1*, Abchurch Lane, Pity, E.C. (near the Mansion House), and 10 & 11, Grand Hotel Buildings, Charing Cross, S.W. DAUKES & CO., BOTTLED ALE AND STOUT MERCHANTS. LANCASTER HOUSE, SAVOY, W.C. BASS & CO.'S ALES and GUINNESS'S STOUT, as SUPPLIED to the FOREST HOTEL and OTHER ESTABLISHMENTS of Messrs. GOBDON & CO. FLAGS FOR RICKET, FOOTBALL, LAWN TENNIS, Rowing, AND SAIblN® 3T^>^ CLUBS. ENSIGNS, JACKS, 8IUNALS, AND ALL THE PRINCIPAL Y^HT CLUB BURGEES KEPT IN STOCK Flags and Banners made and Painted to any Design en tae Shortest Notice. FLAGS, SHIELDS^ TROPHIES, & c . , FOR DECORATION Store and Factory : 283, W APPING, E. fitvnmrP^ 16 > L0ND0N STREET, ^ - c Uty Otlices { ^ MARK LANEj j E.l. CORBETTS WORCESTERSHIRE SALT AGENTS: WESTON & WESTALL, LONDON. Trademark-THE BLACK HORSE. The best and purest salt made from the natural brine springs at Stoke Prior. OF ALL OILMEN & GROCERS. ARCHER'S SMOKE CELEBRATED TOBACCOS. ESTABLISHED 1790. SPECIALITIES. INFANT PLANT. M.F.H. MIXTURE. UNITY MIXTURE. BOUND-TO-WIN VIRGINIA. Hy. ARCHER &Cos SPECIALITIES. HY.ARCHER&Cols OT.BIRDSEYEJB )eee(»: ■)Ems( seye GOLDEN BIRDSEYE. GOLDEN RETURNS. GOLDEN VIRGINIA. GOLDEN HONEYDEW. ARCHER'S INFANT PLANT CIGARETTES have been pronounced by H.R.H. THE PRINCE OF WALES to be the best he ever smoked. TO BE H/fID OF /ebb THE BEST DEALERS. MANUFACTORY: BORO', LONDON, S.E. HOOPER'S As Supplied to HER MAJESTY the QUEEN and the tfLITE of the ARISTOCRACY. Distinguished during more than a quarter of a century as the most PURE, HEALTHFUL, and DELICIOUSLY REFRESHING TABLE WATER. Relieving GOUT, promoting DIGESTION, preventing and correcting ACIDITY, also HEARTBURN, and giving tone to the whole system. Observe that HOOPER it COMPY., PALL MALL EAST, LONDON. is Branded on every Cork. Manufacturers of Pure Soda, Lemonade, Potash, and Lithia Waters, to be obtained of all Chemists and Wine Merchants throughout the Kingdom. HOOPER & COMPY., {h^o^oXXr} LONDON. BY SPECIAL APPOINTMENT, A..T>. MAY 13, 1S76. STRONG ROOMS, DOORS, LOCKS, ANX> SAFES." TO THE BANK OP ENGLAND AND ITS BRANCHES. CO . CO 00 .— i LU UJ CO c g CO CO >H0BBS&C°- s SERIES OF SUITES OF LOCKS SAFES STRONG ROOMS & P/VRTY WALL DOORS H OB BS.H AR 1 .8c-C-7<5&77Checpside LONDON Ee CO CO CO CO no -H P- CO Selected List of Hotels Fitted with HOBBS & CO.'s Locks :— The Metropole, Grand, First Arenne Royal Forest, Bentley Priory, Royal* Langham, Grosvenor, Westminster Palace, Alexandra, Hatchett'si Buckingham, Inns of Court, International, &c. Messrs. Wm. & F. HOUGHTON'S IPIRO PERTY REGISTEB CONTAINS A CHOICE SELECTION OF Estates, Family Kesidences, Town and Country Houses (FURNISHED AND UNFURNISHED), LAND, FARMS, AND INVESTMENTS IN ALL GLASSES OF PROPERTY, INCLUDING GROUND RENTS AND BUILDING LAND. Those seeking to reside in the delightf ul neighbourhoods which surround EPPING IFOIREST Should peruse Messrs. Wm. & F. HOUGHTON'S Estate Register, a copy of which may be had at their Offices, or will be forwarded post free on application. PROPERTIES FOR SALE OR LETTING ENTERED FREE OF CHARGE. PERIODICAL AUCTION SALES AT THE MART. ESTATE OFFICES— 61, OLD BROAD STREET, LONDON. (CLOSE TO LIVERPOOL STREET STATION.) ^*f>^^ "^m^^ SHalks in ffippinq Jorest. JStSk INSCRIBED To THE CORPORATION OF LONDON CONSERVATORS OF EPPING FOREST, WHO SAVED IT FOR THE PEOPLE'S USE FOR ALL TIME *$&?* ■*k ■***/*> Epping F©pest, Ghingfopd. T" 1 1 1 IS beautiful 'and extremely well situated Estate, comprising 80 acres of land in the most picturesque position, abutting on Epping Forest, and within 32 minutes by rail from London, is now being rapidly developed in what we are constrained to call the most effective and successful manner. It consists of houses from £30 upwards, and the modern design and finish of the exterior, the comfort of the interior combined with the natural advantages of the neighbourhood, must render its future one greatly to be envied in these days of depression. The referring point for the Greenwich Observatory on the summit is said to be the highest point in Essex. From this point the traditional seven counties are to be discerned, and Chingford humourists say, that " if a man takes a walk up there every morning he will never die." Be this as it may, there cannot be any doubt that the view from the brow of the hill is a sight worth seeing. The operations upon this Estate are under the direction of Mr. Geo. Newman, of Deptford and Chingford, and we can promise the visitors to this charming locality the greatest attention and courtesy from him or his representatives. THE GREEN HIDE, NFAH II J INC. WALKS IN PEPPING FOREST> Edited by PERCY LINDLEY. // 'IT II ILL I r S Til A TIO NS. 18 8 5. London : 123-12-3, Fleet Street, EC. j and at all Booksellers' and Bookstalls. INTROD The average Londoner feels no pride in the fact that he can lose himself with «reat facility within his own Forest, half an hour from the Bank of England, is n^E aware that those f acuities In the Metropolitan Police area there is no part we know so little about, except, perhaps, London itself, as the wooded Essex bcrder district, called Epping Fort &t On one of the few sunless mornings last November, the writer started trom Chingford Hotel on a forest walk By a forest walk was understood avoid in** paths and roads, as a ship would shoals and rocks. The object was the Ancient Earthworks, known as Loughton Camp. He had tried twice betore with a trusting friend to strike it, and failed. He failed again. Groping through the dead brake and landed brambles of a deep thicket he came, at the rush/bottom, on a small dog. The small dog, from the abject droop of tail and nose" was painfully lost. Presently a faltering whistle came down from the facing wood and "the writer followed the bounding terrier to its master tor guidance The master himself was lost. That is t standing on the thicket else by a straight road, he did not know, living at AVoodford, whether his wav home lav up the read or down, or in some other direction. * louth later two companions, tarrying too late at Epping, beguiled into seeim- its lonelv church, far awav from the town among high past, acros^ country "at dusk in the one snow-storm of the year, and, aided by a clever map and the light of a stray fusee, succeeded in describing a fairly accurate x INTRODUCTORY. circle — a feat which brought them back into Epping town when they should have been miles to the south — at Chiagford. Later, an astute editor, who has indicated to travellers the way they should go in many lands, confounded Chigwell with Chingford, and earned the pitiless congratulations of his anxious friends and the undying contempt of the Ching- ford chef at a spoiled dinner in consequence. Such trifles and the like during last autumn, winter, and spring, added piquancy to much innocent rambling. But they taught those who met in this quasi club fashion, among other things — that some very beautiful forest ground lies at London's door, although those who step out to enjoy it are mostly local holiday- makers, and driving-folk keeping to certain spots — that while the forest is not all wood, it is the centre of many bracing rustic walks on its borders, though one can walk in woods all day if one knows the way — that to enjoy the forest in its pleasant morning lights and life, a day or two should be passed in it, choosing the middle of the week for absolute repose and quiet, and Chingford for a centre — that, finally, some handy forest pocket-book for ready reference and guidance was sadly wanted in these exhilarating ramblings. With the thought of helping others in their rambles these pages have been put together. Assumption of superior knowledge by the compilers would be unbecoming, for it would probably be found out. Will the reader assist the Editor by suggestions for improving the next edition and making it more useful ? 125, Fleet Street, E.C. "HALF AN HOIR FROM THE HANK OF ENGLAND, E P P I N G FOREST I— IX HISTORIC TIMES. ECCENTRIC BEECH. The flat marshy lands, wooded hills, and long sweep- ing well-watered hollows of calf-breeding Essex, have, in Epping Forest, some six thousand acres, more or less, that are still very like what all England once was. In its varied and verdant solitudes the appreciative student of English history has unchanged actual scenes associated with sume of that history's most stirring story, for these green hills and dales are the undisturbed frag- ment of that " vast continuity of shade " which once covered nearly a million acres, and was the (neat Forest of Essex. Then leafy glades and thorny thickets, wild heaths, hills and dales, pathless moors and morasses, stretched over th? entire county. Mile after mile to Colchester, and beyond it down to the sea ; along the borders of Hertfordshire as far as Cambridgeshire. Blended in < 'in- direction with the great forest of Middlesex, it extended in another to where the Thames spread out its broad glare of grey and blue over the low lands, more like some still inland lake than the swift sweeping river of to-day. Essex, then, was the land of the Cassii, the most war- like and powerful of all the Celtic tribes of Britain, the terror of their neighbours. Here they had their fortified towns or camps, circular huts with tall conical roofs of thatch or reeds, standing on the hill-tops amongst tin- trees, shut in with protecting pallisades, ditches, and earthworks. And here, in Epping, some of the forms and 14 EPPING FOREST. boundaries of such camps are still marked by surviving relics (page 61). In such woods and thickets as we can wander through to-day they lived and loved, married and multiplied like wolves in their lairs. Sentinelled by sharp-eyed, sharp-eared ferocious dogs, ever in expecta- tion of merciless foes, here they passed their hours of quiet, and slept with weapons ready by their sides. And here, boastful and defiant, the bards at their wild and noisy feastings, sang the glories of slaughter and rapine. Here they sallied forth to gather roots and wild fruits, or revel in the swift pleasures of the chase. Here they fought so desperately against that Belgic tribe of in- vaders, the fierce Trinobantes, and here the} 7 mourned the frequent loss of valiant chiefs, whose violent deaths were to perpetuate indefinitely the dark horrors of tire- less hatred and revenge. And here, where ancient oaks are thickest on the hill-tops, they worshipped, awed into silence by superstitious terrors, or marched in stately procession as they sang hymns in honour of unknown L.".ds, of which hymns the distorted remnants are still heard in the seemingly unmeaning choruses of our comic songs. Here we see what conquering legions saw, when, op- posed by the Cassii as deadly foes, and welcomed by the Trinobantes as powerful allies, Roman troops passed in war- like state and triumph through the Great Forest, to give, and receive, some fearful lessons. To teach the Celts that lesson which they have always found the hardest to learn : that of unity in the face of danger. To learn how impossible it was to rule in peace or definitely con- quer a people irrationally proud and unreasoning in all their more passionate impulses, prone to forget benefits and to nurse wrongs, real and imaginary — a people defiant of control, who never either recognised or admitted defeat. It was the savage blood-feuds of contending clans, tribes, and families, handed down from Celtic grandsires to fathers, and from fathers to sons, that first placed this nation — if we may so call that which had yet to become a nation — at the invader's foot. The Trinobantes were the fathers of those who welcomed the Saxons to fight their battles, and quarrelled with and fought against them when they were victorious. The}' were the kindred of those Irish Celts, who, in succeeding centuries, invited the invading Danes and Normans as allies against their countrymen, and quarrelled with them, as they did after- wards with their other foreign allies, the Spaniards and the French. Subjection, cruelly and persistently enforced by Roman masters, welded into some semblance of unity the turbulent JBritons at last, but it required Roman, Saxon, and Danish conquerors, with centuries of slavery and slaughter, to accomplish the task in reality. On the departure of the Romans these seemingly civilized Britons at once re-commenced their old quarrels and fightings. Slaughter and destruction again ran riot in these ancient woods. The Roman cities were neglected and abandoned for the old woodland encampments. Roman laws ceased to restrain when Roman swords ceased to enforce them. The ancient Briton was once more master in the land he rendered powerless and wretched. The victorious were content, the defeated petitioned the Romans for protection. They could not return, so the Saxons were invited and came. They con- EPPING FOREST. 15 juered and made peace, but they, too, found it impossible to live in amity with the Celt, and, being a race more stern and fiercer than the Romans, they slaughtered and enslaved their quarrelsome allies, drove them lip and out into the more sterile, savage districts of Wales and Cornwall, across the English Channel into Brittany, or the Irish Channel into the land of their nearest kindred, where still they quarrelled and fought amongst them- selves. The Saxons, a race as mighty in the chase as in war, revelled in the green and golden wildernesses of these Essex woods. Fancy listens to their horns, their wild shouts, the barking of their dogs, and the gallop of their steeds as they sweep by in pursuit of deer or boar. We see their huge barn -like halls rising in the green twilight of these leafy depths, surrounded by the huts and cot- tages of sturdy dependents, freemen, and born thralls. They were genuine Saxon, being neither Jutes nor Angles, and we can glean what they thought of the Briton in reading one of their saintly legends — still preserved in the British Museum — written soon after they were Christianized. The saint says he understood the hideous doings, and even the language of devils, when he descended into Hades, because he had formerly been a prisoner amongst the Celtic Britons ! At Havering- atte-Bower, here in the Epping wilds, was held the Court of the Saint-King, Norman-loving, Norman-speak- ing, Norman-bred Edward the Confessor. Although more fitted for a monk than a monarch, he loved the chase, and pursued it inerrily in the Essex woods. Harold, his successor, lord of many a forest acre in Epping and Essex, loved the chase no less, and here eD- joyed it. Discord and disunion again invited invasion. The Britons and Saxons, native Danes and foreign Danes, fell to loggerheads, and William, surnamed the Con- queror, seeing his opportunity, swiftly seized it. Harold, slain at Hastings, was buried at Waltham Abbey. The unhappy Saxons, hated by the vengeful Briton and vengefullv hating the Normans, made the thickets their hiding-places and the woods their castles, thence saltying forth in secrecy and darkness to make night horrible with slaughter. Then these woods saw a woeful hunting — men hunted to the death as beasts had been : saw panting wretches flying as the deer fled, with horns and hounds in full pursuit ; saw them at bay in the thicket*, fighting for their lives as fiercely as tusked boar could fight, and as vainly. With all due form and solemnity the Norman Con- queror, who' loved the chase and protected the tall deer as if they had been of his own royal blood, granted to " William the Bishop " and " Godfrey the Portreeve " by charter those memorable privileges to which we, in some way or another, owe all that remains of Epping Forest ; for, odd as it may sesm, there is no land, however wild its condition, over which anybody has legal right to roam at will. Every acre of it, the lawyers say, must belong to somebody, who alone can give that right. Hence, when a " Liberal " Government would fain have taken from us this no-man's land, our stout friends the Cor- poration of the City of London, as representing the afore- said William and Godfrey, put in a claim to it, supported that claim in a fierce hot fight, and as the result legally made over these acres of ancient woodland to the people, to be their own for ever. m; EPPING FOREST. The old monks of Waltham had their chase, and their Abbot had many forest privileges. So had the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul's, and, as already said, the City Cor- poration. During the reigns of Henry I. and Stephen, to reward friends and replenish the impoverished royal treasury, considerable tracts of the forest became private property. Richard I., to provide funds for his Holy War, followed their example. But still the right of the London citizens was acknowledged, if not respected. King John threw down the fences that protected the corn, and culti- vated lands from the wild deer, but he disafforested all that part of the forest which lay to the north of the highway from Stortford to Colchester. Henry III. con- firmed the ancient hunting privileges of the city, but confined it within a circuit of the nearest twenty miles ; and Edward I., following Henry and Stephen in selling the forest land and the city rights, was checked by the stern threat of armed rebellion. Edward IV. confirmed the charter of King John, and the forest was yet further reduced by a perambulation made in the year 1640, when the boundaries settled included the whole of eleven and parts of ten parishes. In his days we find London's chief citizens were famous followers of the deer. There exists an account of how Edward IV. himself hunted with the citizens in Waltham Forest, and how they all, King, courtiers, and citizens, had a meiry feast under the green boughs, and how the monarch sent as presents to the Lady Mayoress, her sisters, and the aldermen's wives, two harts and six bucks slain that day, with a tun of wine, wherewith the Corporation afterwards held a grand feast in the Drapers' Hall. There is an old forest tradi- tion which says Henry VIII. was hunting in Epping Forest at the very time when Anne Boleyn was being killed on the scaffold. A gun conveyed the signal that all was over, on hearing which the British Bluebeard cried, "The business is done. Uncouple the dogs, and let us follow the sport." By the close of the sixteenth century, however, civic huntings here in the forest became fewer, and as time progressed yet fewer. But the custom lingered, for Strype records how as late as in the reign of our first George the chief citizens were found " riding on horse- back and hunting with my Lord Mayor's hounds when the common hunt goes out," which was, however, little more than a formal show for the preservation of ancient rights. This was the old Easter hunt, of which a satirical ballad called " London Customs " thus sang : " Next once a year into Essex a-h anting they go, To see 'em pass along, (), 'tis a most pretty show ! Thro' Cheapside and Fenchurch Street, and so to Aldgate pump, Each man with's spurs in 's horse's sides, and his back-sword cross his rump." The song goes on to tell how the Lord Mayor took a staff to "beat the bushes," "a work he ne'er had done before," when — "A creature bounceth from a bush', which made them all to laugh ; My lord he cried, ' A hare ! a hare !' but it proved an Essex calf. "And when they had done their sport, they came to London, where they dwell, Their faces all so torn and scratched, their wives scarce knew them well ; For 'twas a very great mercy so many 'scaped alive, For of twenty saddles carried out they brought again but live.'' A consummation to be best understood by those who have wandered in the wilder and more rugged portions of Epping Forest, even as it is. ■ iiiiiiimiiiimi mM queen Elizabeth IN epping forest. — From the Staircase Window, Forest Hotel. EPPING FOREST. 19 For some years the Epping Hunt was discontinued, hut some idle East-enders long carried it out after their fashion. A deer was carted about from one forest tavern to another, amidst a crowd of noisy, half -drunken London roughs, the keepers being treated with drink and food until they could neither eat nor drink any more, after which the deer was let loose, and riotously pursued until lost to sight or run down. Most readers will recall Hood's verses, describing how the hunters came to the forest, how— " Some pushed along with four-in-hand, Whilst others drove at random. In curricle, dog-cart, whisky, one- Horse chaise or tandem," to the Eagle at Snaresbrook and thence to the Bald- face Stag. The Illustrated London News, describing the scene in one of its early numbers, speaks of one "Thomas Rounding, Esqr.," as "huntsman inordinary and also extraordinary of the day ;" adding, " Here Tom was to be seen in all his glory. His hunting-cap and coat, his buckskin breeches and top-boots, mounted on a horse that had borne him through the toils of many a busy day. He was — for, alas ! he has been gathered to his fathers and grandfathers for some time — a famous fellow in his day. His acquaintance with the forest was most intimate — " ' He knew each lane, and every alley green, Dingle and bushy dell of these wild woods,' And he had need of all his knowledge on Easter Monday to keep his sylvans in order, prevent his hounds from being crushed to mincemeat by the feet of the horses and the wheels of the carriages, and rescue the deer from ultimate destruction, or premature capture, from the en- tanglement of actual lanes of men, women, and children, quadrupeds, bipeds, carts, coaches, etc." But we are emerging from ancient times, when savage warfare, feudal warfare, and civil warfare raged so often in the' forest wilds of Essex — from the time when Epping was a famous place for the city archers and the holiday- making citizens, and good Queen Bess first set up her hunting-lodge, where still it may be seen, and have come down to times less remote from our own. Century after century, year by year, the Forest had 1 >een growing small by degrees and not beautifully less. In 1777, 12,000 acres of Forest land remained unenclosed. In 178S Earl Waldegrave, under an Act of Parliament, ap- propriated 670 acres. In 1793, the Forest area had decreased to 9,000 acres ; in 1S54, to 7,000. In 1871 it had dwindled down to 3,400 acres. Then the Corporatii 'ii stepped in and stopped further appropriation. By dint of hard righting over 2,000 acres of stolen Forest land were recovered, and the Forest, as handed over to the people, is little short of 9 square miles in extent. On the 25th May, 1871, the following resolution was proposed in the Court of Common Council by Mr. John T. Bedford : " That a committee be appointed to seek a conference with her Majesty's Ministers to ascertain on what terms and conditions the Corporation can secure to the people, for purposes of public health and recreation. those parts of Epping Forest which have not been en- closed with the assent of the Crown or by legal authority." The resolution was passed. It was followed by eleven years' agitation and litigation. In July, 1882, the arbi- trator, under the Epping Forest Act, signed the award and the official map, which determined for all time the forest boundaries. Epping Forest was saved, at a cost of over a quarter of a million sterling. 2—2 II.— IN PEE-HISTORIC TIMES. Geology of the Forest. EVBBY tract of country presents ns with a number of interesting questions for solution. On the one hand, we may seek to learn all we can about its antiquities, the history of the churches, the original settlers who gave names to the parishes, and how these came to be divided as they are ; and our inquiries soon show us that the subject is but a fragment in the history and geography of the country. On the other hand, we may devote our- selves to the natural history. We may catalogue the animals and plants — but how came they there ? We may separate those imported by man from those which nature has introduced; and here again we have interesting ons to solve. We may trace out the courses of the streams, and ramble over the hills, and still more prob- lems come before us : for when did the rivers commence to run, and how long have the hills maintained their present positii ns '.' While, if we investigate the various soils and Bubsoils, the brick-clays, gravels, or building- stones, which help to form the solid substance of our land, we are again beset with countless questions about their age and origin, as well as about the history of those curious relics of former life called fossils, which are found ad then in most of the subsoils pr "strata." With all these natural history questions geology is more or less concerned; for although as a science it deals firstly with the nature of the rocks or earths which constitute the ground beneath us, its main object is to decipher from them, and from the organic remains which they contain, a history of the various changes through which the earth's surface has passed. And one of the most interesting conclusions is that the present is but the continuation of the past — the story of which, while made up of many and varied changes in scene and lift', is yet unbroken by any universal break or catastrophe. The student who would commence his geological ob- servations in Epping Forest may at first find little to attract his attention or arouse enthusiasm in the subject ; for the district itself does not bear favourable comparison with many other parts of England as a field for the study .of rocks or the collection of fossils. Nevertheless, the strata exposed at its surface furnish evidence of great physical changes, and lead us to contemplate scenes at one time almost tropical, at another arctic in severity. THE FOREST AKKA. With these preliminary remarks we may at once start for the Forest, which, as might be expected, comprises several isolated tracts of woodland. We may, however, roughly confine our remarks to the district included by the Ordnance Map of 1844, which lies as far south as Forest Gate, near Stratford, and stretches northwards, about ten miles, to the little town of Epping. This area EPPIXG FOREST. 2] is bounded on the west by the Lea Valley, and on the east for some distance by the valley of the Roding ; and it varies in breadth from three to rive miles. Two hundred years ago the whole of it was forest-land. Looked at in a broad way, it is an undulating tract of ground, the central portions of which rise to the highest elevations as at Highbeach and Jack's Hill. The subsoil over the greater part of this area is clay, the monotony of which is broken here and there by coverings of gravel and sand. On such a foundation most of our great forests have grown — for the oak in particular loves a clay soil, and so does the hornbeam; while the super- ficial strata of gravel and sand, suitable enough for the pine and the holly, are rarely too thick to prove detri- mental to those trees, which like to draw sustenance f r< im heavier subsoils. The marshes bordering the rivers and the pools held up by the clay furnish favourable spots for trees like the willow, the )oplar, and alder, which flourish where moisture pre- vails. LONDON CLAY. The clay about which we have spoken is known to geologists as the London clay, and it forms the founda- tion of the entire area, with the exception of a limited H tract near Leyton. Here, beneath the gravel, traces of EPPIXG FOREST. shelly clay belonging to the Woolwich and Reading series have lately been identified. Where seen at the surface the London clay is generally a brown and somewhat tenacious clay, but' deeper down it is usually blue or bluish-grey — the brown colour being due to the weather- ing, or in other words, to the peroxidating of the iron ore which it contains. Nodules of clayey limestone, called " septaria,'' are frequently met with in the London clay, and these owe their name to the cracks or septa in the stone, which are filled with calc-spar. The upper part of the London clay is often sandy or loamy, for it passes by alternations of sand and clay into the Bagshot beds above it. These upper beds of the London clay appear in the brickyard west of Theydon Bois Green, on Epping Plain, and above the railway station at Epping. The clay itself may be best seen in the brickyards, where it is used for making bricks and tiles, as at Buck- hurst Hill, Loughton, and other places; and there is an f these beds is to be found in our district, and this com- prises about ten feet of buff and light-brown sand with seams of pipe-clay, forming a portion of the high ground at Highbeach. Here, however, the Bagshot Beds are partly obscured by a covering of pebble-gravel of much EPPING FOREST. 23 later age ; but they maybe seen in pita north-west of the King's Oak Inn. In other parts of Essex the}* form heathy grounds, for cultivation would not be profitable. A sandy soil on clay is, however, far preferable to a clayey soil on sand ; for, as the Essex farmers sometimes say : " When the clay doth feed the sand, Then 'tis well for England ; But when the sand doth feed the clay, Then for England laek-a-day." In this district no fossils have been recorded from the Lower Bagshot Beds, but in equivalent strata in the Isle of Wight many plants of sub-tropical character have been found : they include the aralia, large fig-trees and fig-sycamores. The beds were deposited in a shallower sea than the London clay, and the climate was probably cooler. The London clay and Bagshot Beds were spread over the entire area of Essex and Middlesex, besides over portions of the area of other counties ; and afterwards the tract was for an extended period raised above water. Then the various surface agents of destruction, in the shape of rain and rivers, began to erode channels and to wear away the strata, so that the Bagshot Beds near London are now represented only by the isolated patches to be seen at Harrow, Hampstead Heath, Highbeach, and other places — which are, in truth, remnants of a great sheet of these sands. The agents of destruction did not, however, do all the work during this interval, but some of the main features of our country were then marked out. GLACIAL KEPO.SITS. The next deposits we have to consider are the patches of gravel which mark the incoming of the glacial period, or "Great Ice Age," as it is sometimes called. On re- ferring to the Geological Survey Map, we find certain areas of gravel (coloured light pink) at Woodford, Buck- hurst Hill, and Loughton ; and other areas (coloured darker pink) at Highbeach, Jack's Hill, and to the east of Epping. The latter, as a rule, are composed chiefly of pebbles of flint and quartz ; while the former contain, in addition, many subangular or partially rolled flints, and sometimes pebbles of quartzite, granite, and igne< ins rocks, besides fossils such as gryphcea or belemnitt - derived from older formations. The pebble-gravels, as they are called, usually cap the higher grounds, and are seldom more than three or four feet in thickness. They are no doubt in great measure derived either from beds of flint pebbles, which occur in strata beneath the London clay (Woolwich and Reading Beds), and crop out at the surface further north; or they may be in part derived from beds of flint-pebbles that sometimes occur in the Lower Bagshot Beds. It is, indeed, not always possible to distinguish between these gravels and those of a less pebbly nature ; and often, as is the case with patches of gravel on Hampstead Heath, and on Shooter's Hill, in Kent, their precise age is an open question. Most of the gravels that occur to the north and east of Epping are found, however, to pass under the Boulder clay, which is distinctly a glacial deposit ; and hence these gravels, which appear to be intimately associated 24 EPPIXG FOREST. with it, are regarded as belonging to the glacial period. The subangular gravels are well shown in pits on Buckhurst Hill, and they may be -fen also to the west of Woodford, and to the south-east of Loughton. THE BOULDER CLAY. The Bmlder clay is in general a tough, unstratified clay or marl, containing many rounded pieces of chalk. Many blocks or fragments of flint likewise occur, as well as rocks of various kinds and ages, some of which are grooved or scratched by ice-action. Fossils, too, derived from the chalk, oolites, and lias, are now and then met with. Patches of this Boulder clay occur at Thej'don Bois and Epping town, where in irregular thickness and mode of occurrence they form outliers of a great sheet of Boulder clay, extending northwards to Dunmow, beyond which other masses spread over a considerable part of the Eastern Counties. Weathering often into a brown loamy or clayey soil, the chalk having been dissolved out by atmospheric agents, it is sometimes difficult at first to distinguish the Boulder clay from the London clay. The Boulder clay is a relic of a period when great glaciers extended over much of Scotland and the North of England, uniting .so as to form what are termed ice- sheets ; and these pushing their way over the oolitic hills and vales and the chalk wolds of Lincolnshire and the Midland Counties, ground off much material from the strata, and spread the debris far and wide over the Eastern Counties. And the grooving of the boulders is attributed to stones imbedded in the ice either acting on others, or being themselves striated as the ice moved on. In former days the Boulder clay was much used for "claying" or "marling" the .ground for agricultural purposes. Hence there are many old pits in the clay which are now, however, little else than ponds. The deposit was opened up in the brickyard north of Epping town. The southern portions of Epping Forest at Wanstead, and the parishes of Walthamstow, Leyton, and Ilford, are chiefly based upon gravel and brick-earth, which belong to a newer period than the Boulder clay to which we have just referred. Glaciers may still have lingered in North Britain, but the climate had ameliorated ; at the same time England was united to the Continent, for the Straits of Dover had not yet been formed. ORGANIC REMAINS. And now not only many of the larger mammalia made their appearance, but man also sought a home on our territory. The deposits in which these remains are found, lie in what is called the Thames Valley ; they extend east- wards to Romford, and fringe the western side of the Lea Valley, spreading out over much of London and the country to the south and west of it. The brickyards near Great Ilford are most famous in the neighbourhood for organic remains ; but the # deposits may be seen in gravel -pits or brickyards in the southern portions of the Forest, as before mentioned. EPPIXG FOREST. In the area now under consideration, the relics of man, in the shape of rudely chipped (or palaeolithic) flint implements, have been found by Mr. Worthington ( r. Smith, at Walthamstow, Leyton, Leytonstone, Wan- stead, Forest Gate, and Stratford ; and no doubt the inhabitants of the old Lea Valley fashioned their weapons and tools from the flint stones which the river accumu- lated along its course. The mammalian remains, of which a fine collection was made by the late Sir Antonio Brady at Maryland Point, near Stratford, include the mammoth and one other species of elephant, three species of rhinoceros, the hippopotamus, Irish elk, bison, urus, musk-sheep, brown 1 »ear, grisly bear, wolf, and other animals. To this period, indeed, we must assign the introduction of many of the forms of life which constitute our present fauna and flora ; for while the largest of these mammalia did not live on to historic times, many of them lingered on to a comparatively recent period. Many land and freshwater shells are found in the Thames Valley brickearths, the most noteworthy of which, the Corbicula (or Cyrena) fluminalis, is now only known to be living in the Nile. These organic remains indicate that the Thames Valley deposits were essentially freshwater accumulations of the river. When we con- template the broad expanse occupied by these deposits we need not, however, conclude that the river, except in seasons of flood, spread over the entire area. Rivers, as is well known, run in a circuitous route, and erode the hills that border them, now on one side of the valley, and then on the other. After the deposition of the Thames Valley gravels and brickearth some upheaval of the area took place, and the River Thames since then has occupied a more restricted area. This area is marked out by the levels or marshes which border it, and which are spoken of in geological language as alluvium. These are the most recent deposits of the area, and may be said to be still in process of formation, although they dati back to pre-historic times. The earliest human records of this period are the polished (Neolithic) stone celts, of which examples have been found at Temple Mills, near Strat- ford. Some interesting sections of the alluvium near Wal- thamstow were exposed in 1868-9, during excavations made for the filter-beds and reservoirs of the East London Waterworks Company. Notes of them were made at the time by Dr. Henry Woodward, F.R.S., who found numerous skulls and portions of skeletons of both historic and pre-historic Britons, as well as implements of stone, bone, bronze, and iron. Besides a long list of land and freshwater shells of living species, many bones of mammalia, and a few of birds and fishes, were ob- tained. The mammalia included the wolf, fox, horse, wild boar, red deer, roebuck, reindeer, elk, urus, and Celtic short-homed ox. The occurrence of the beaver is particularly interesting, and it was found in considei-able numbers. As Br. Wood- ward remarks, the work and the enjoyment of the beaver is to construct dams, forming large, deep, and clear pools of water, with a series of small waterfalls at intervals. 26 EPP1XG FOREST. When a great flood comes down the river these beaver-dams would lead to a con- siderable inundation of the forest. Many of the trees could not withstand this ex- cessive damp ; and hence large tracts would be converted into peaty or marshy land. In this way Dr. Woodward thinks some of our broad "alluvial tracts may have been formed. MODERN ASPECT OF THE LAND. Thus geology lead's us on to consider the modern aspect of the land, and the in- fluence exerted by man. The draining of marshy tracts, the cultivation of the land, and the cutting down of our forests have led to the destruction of many forms of animal life. The brown bear was exter- minated in Saxon times ; the reindeer lived on at Caithness until 1159 ; and the beaver exist- d in Wales till about the year 1200. In 1154, however, there werewolves, wild boars, stags, and wild bulls in Epping Forest. The wolf lived on in England till 1306, and in Scotland until 1680, dying out only al», , ut 200 years ago. The wild boar became extinct soon after 1620. The red deer still haunts the moors of North Devon and West Somerset; but the wild bull exists only in a modified form in certain parks of our landed proprietors. The trees introduced by.nature include the oak, ash, willow, poplar, alder, birch, A BANK Off BEECH BY FAlU.MIi.U). EPPING FOREST. beech, hornbeam, pine, holly, and yew, with the under- wood of hazel, blackthorn, hawthorn, elder, brambles, and briars. The Romans, it is thought, introduced the elm, as well as the cherry and some other fruit-trees. Of later intro- ductions, the more conspicuous are the common lime, the horse-chestnut, the acacia, the plane, spruce fir, larch, cedar, Lombardy poplar, mulberry, and laburnum. WATER SUPPLY. The geological structure of a country largely influenced the earlier settlements, for the question of a ready water- supply, so dependent on the nature of the strata, was then, as now, a most important one. Prof. Prestwich has pointed out how the growth of London in early times corresponded with the boundaries of the Thames Valley gravels, while the outlying villages were located on iso- lated patches or strips of similar subsoil. In this way a number of important villages grew up on the western gravelly side of the Lea Valley, while on its eastern and more clayey side the villages are few and far between in comparison. The growth of our population, however (not to men- tion other causes) creates a need for larger supplies of water than can be obtained by shallow wells, sunk through the superficial gravel to the London clay beneath. And the many deep wells that have in late years been made, furnish us with a knowledge of the underground geology which has proved of very great interest. UNDERGROUND GEOLOGY. Thus at Loughton a deep well, made for the Great Eastern Railway, was carried to a depth of 1,096 feet. The strata passed through were : the London clay, 167 feet; Woolwich and Reading Beds (mottled clays, sands, and pebble-beds), 36 feet; Thanet Beds (chiefly sand), 40 feet ; chalk, about 651 feet ; upper green-sand, about 30 feet, and Gault (clay). 172 feet. Lower green-sand was probably touched at the bottom, and a good supply of water was obtained. Several other deep wells have been made in the area ; thus at Epping the chalk was reached at a depth of 404 feet ; at Waltham Abbey, at 160 feet ; and at Walthamstow Marsh, at 152 feet. But the chief interest of the deep borings centres round the question of much older rocks being met with, and among these possibly coal-measures being found at a workable depth in the Eastern Counties. And in support of this we may mention that rocks older than the coal-measures have been already proved at no great distance from our area. Thus at Ware, Wenlock Shales (Silurian) were met with at a depth of 7 96i feet beneath lower green-sand (?); and at Turnford, near Cheshunt, purple shales of Devonian age were proved, beneath the Gault, at a depth of 9S0 feet. The results of these and other borings may naturally raise some hopes that our coal-supply may in the course of time be supplemented, if necessary, from underground sources in the east of England. To some eyes, perhaps, the transition from heathland and forests to chimneys and furnaces is not a change for the better. The very name of the Black Country of South Stafford- 28 EPP1XG FOREST. -hire denotes the absence of all that would make the countrj pleasant to most of us— who have no shares in the collieries of that district. The student, however, who seeks to know something of the geology of Epping Forest need not distress him- self with such pictures. Far pleasanter is it to recall in imagination some of the varied scenes and climes of the past, and to feel that the present is but a link in the series of changes which have gone on from "time im- memorial" and a great deal longer, and which may be continued in the future — how long no one can divine. Horace E. Woodward, F.G.S., of the Geological Survey of England. [Those who desire further information on the ireolo^v. should consult Mr. Whitaker's "Guide to the Geology of London and the Neighbourhood," fourth edition, 1884 : and his "Geology of the London Basin,"' 1872 (published by the Geological Survey); also the "Transaction- of the Essex Field Club.'*] FOREST POND, ON THE EPPING ROAD. III.— THE FOREST AS IT IS. Dull, Useful, Information. Railway Service. — Epping Forest is accessible by rail from every part of London. It is served by quick services of trains from Liverpool Street, Fenchurch Street, and St. Pancras ; ami through communication now exists between the Great Eastern Railway, the Midland, the Metropolitan, the North London, and North Western, the East London, and the Tilbury and Southend Companies. A subway connects the Bishopsgate .station of the Metropolitan with Liverpool Street. Omnibuses run from all parts of tha West End and the suburbs to Liverpool Street. Besides a direct branch line to CHINGFORD, the Great Eastern system serves both sides of the Forest ; on the east the Ongar branch, with stations at Leyton, Wood- ford, Buckhurst Hill, Loughton, Chigwell Lane, Theydon BoiS, and Epping ; on the west, the Cam- bridge line, with neighbouring stations at Ponder's End and Waltham Cross, both within easy walking distance. Fares. — Throughout the season excursion tickets are issued from Liverj 1 Street and Fenchurch Street by all trains to Chingford, Woodford, Buckhurst Hill and Loughton, available to return by any of these stations. The return fares are : 1st class, :2s. ; 2nd class, Is. 4d. ; 3rd. class, Is. By Road. — From the west and west-central districts i if London, a pleasant road is along Portland Place, Regent's Park, Camden Road, Seven Sisters' Road, Tottenham High Road, crossing the Lea at the ferry boat, past Chingford Old Church to Chingford Green, and by the railway station to the hotel. The latter portion <>f this drive of course also applies to the north and north- western districts of London. Distances and other par- ticulars of access by road to the Forest will be found under the head " Cycling " (p. 33). Forest Walks (see p. 46). — The walks described have been arranged to avoid roads and the fp quented paths as much as possible. A compass as well as map will lie found of use in many parts if the walks are followed ;;^ given. No written directions alonecan lie sufficient. Visitors wanting the Forest '"to themselves," should select Wednesday, Thursday and Friday during the summer months. In the beautiful spring or autumn time there is always seclusion. In winter the keeper, and the local residents are almost its only frequenters. It is strange, for there is nothing austere or repellent in this winter aspect. Parts of the Forest are never bare of leaves. The turf is always green, much of the undergrowth retains a russet dress, and the abounding holly gleams in every thicket. The oak and hornbeam woods on the protected volley slopes never shed their leaves. The foliage dies without falling from the trees. Between Earl'* Path and the Monk Woods (p. 61), tin- deep slopes of Debden Slade fall and rise a brown winter wood, the foliage dry and crisp, rustling on the boughs. The pedestrian "getting up" the topography of the Forest will frequently come across " The Green Ride." 30 EPP1NG FOP EST. The term must be understood to apply to the broad grassy slopes cleared of their timber and Undergrowth, and not to any one particular "ride." There are upwards of a dozen "Green Rides "'now, cleared for the most part through, and opening up without spoiling, the thickest parts. The public is mainly indebted for these "rides" to the verderers and Major Mackenzie, the Forest .Superintendent. Till they were made it was practically impossible for the stranger to find his way about, except by following the roads. Even now some simple, rustic system of direction is required, by arrow or other marks on trunks and stumps, such as exists throughout the Ger- man forests, to mark the paths and indicate the routes. The Forest is seen at its best at early morning or evening., No one who has not slept within earshot, or taken morning Forest rambles, can imagine how every thicket is full of the songs of birds ; or who has not strolled at quiet sundown through the glades towards Epping, how many are its deer, to say nothing of "such small deer " as hares and rabbits, pheasants and partridges, and other living things. The early or nocturnal rambler cautiously and quietly moving in search of these sounds and sights may feel the keen eye of a velveteen -coated, high-booted keeper — that dread of poachers -watching him with lively interest. But he will find the owner of the eye upon acquaintance to have a fund of knowledge of Forest wajs and life, not less interesting or instructive because it is imparted in homely talk, or because things are called by their English name-. In bis longer rambles the pedestrian feels a fine sense of independence, and has a truer zest for nature's charms, who carries a loaded tlask and a full sandwich-case in his balanced pockets. After Ching- ford Hotel is left, and until Epping is reached, the way- side inns belong to the order known as "plain." Fre- quenters of Forest by-paths do not wear shoes, or carry an umbrella. Thorns and brambles are the natural enemies of both. Drives. — I. Chingford to High Beach and Waltham Abbey, by Ranger's Road, passing Connaught Water, by Fairmead Road, across Fairmead Bottom, through the Beeches to High Beach (see p. 50), and the Wake Anns, returning direct by Epping New Road (one hour and a half's drive) or by Honey Lane to Waltham Abbey (see " walks "), back through Sewardstona and Chingford village (three hours' drive). II. Chingford to Epping by the Wake Arms as above, thence by the New Road, alighting at Amines- bury Banks, (see " walks"), about a mile beyond the Wake Arms, and to Epping, returning to the Wake Arms, and thence by the Old Road (see p. 62.), on the left to Golding's Hill, (see "walks"), and Loughton, and back by. Ranger's Road (three hours' drive). III. Chingford to Chigwell by the Wake Arms, as, above, thence by road, or right over Jack's Hill to Theydon Bois, and leaving Theydon Station on the left, by Debden Green to Chigwell, returning by Woodford Bridge to Woodford, and back by Whitehall Road (four hours' drive). HUNTING. — The Essex Foxhounds meet within easy distance of Chingford once or twice a week at Abridge, Fassingford Bridge, Cooper's Sale, Epping, Nazing, and adjacent points. A private pack of harriers hunt twice a week in the neighbourhood. A "GREEN HIDE, CYCLING. FOREST ROADS AND ROUTES. In describing Epping Forest from a cyclist's point of view, the writer necessarily confines himself to the roads available for bicycling and tricycling, although it will be understood that the cyclist is not restricted in his enjoy- ment of the Forest beauties, but can at any time leave his machine and wander away into the pathless woods as freely as the railway or horse traveller. Of main-roads, one only that can properly be so-called traverses the Forest. This starts from Aldgate, and by way of Strat- ford and Leytonstone enters the Forest proper at Wood- ford Wells, going straight through the heart of the forest to Epping, continuing thence to Cambridge. At Wood- ford Wells this road divides, the more easterly side of the loop going through Loughton and rejoining the direct road at the Wake Arms. Of the two, the latter is the preferable, being of a better surface, although more hilly, the former being usually in a bad state of repair, and much cut up by the traffic in summer and autumn. This can be said, in a modified sense, of nearly all the roads in the district. As a rule, they are describable as " very fair, to good," gravel and flint being the usual materials com- posing their surfaces; but the traffic during the dry season makes them very dusty. With the exception of the loop-road above described, the highways in the Forest are very serpentine, seldom going direct from one place to another, so that in thoroughly exploring their sinuosi- ties the cyclist will frequently have to retraverse the ground, which usually slopes gently, in frequently varied undulations, without any very formidable hills to climb, Chingford Old Church Hill being almost the only ascent which a cyclist of average development cannot surmount, although LeppiWs Hill, Strawberry Hill, and Piercing Hill are also very stiff. The usual maps of the district are perplexing, imperfect, and incomplete, making in some cases no distinction between rideable roads, foot- paths, and mere beaten tracks ; consequently I have been at some pains to describe, in the following series of routes, landmarks by which the wayfarer may follow the route desired. Finger-posts are comparatively few, many being erected in the public-house interest to direct the traveller by devious ways to the doors of sundry houses of refreshment ; and the milestones on the few direct roads can only be depended upon when there is no doubt about their reference to the exact route which is being followed. The two Great Eastern Railway branches touching the Forest — one to Chingford Station, the other to Loughton and Ongar — are bridged south of Haggt r Lane and Snaresbrooh Stations respectively ; but north of those points there are frequent level crossings, in passing over which the cyclist usually has to ex. rcise both patience and caution : patience to wait for the gates being opened by the tardy officials, and caution lest the 34 EPPIXC FOREST. irregularly-levelled metals should upset the balance of his bicycle or the spoke-threading of his tricycle. In the following routes are given the best ways of yetting- into the Forest, at Chingford, from London, those ways being selected which avoid the wheelmen's bugbears, tramlines and granite sets, as far as possible: by taking these routes, Chingford can be reached from either the West End, the City, or the southern side of the river without difficulty. From Chingford the roads are taken, leading through and around the Forest, with distances ascertained in every case from actual measure- ment by means of a log on the writer's tricycle. Routt I. — From the West End to Chingford. From the Marbh Arch, Hyd( Park-, turn down EJ'. ven Sistt ,■■-' Road good granite-set paving with tram- ways in centre, as far as Finsbury Purl: Gates. If on a bicycle, keep straight up the macadam road : but if on a tricycle, turn into the Park and along the parallel road. passing out again at the next gate (Manor House). Still straight ahead, down the macadam descent, Si V( n SisU rs' Road terminates in the Tottenham main roaftr-', Route VIIL—CHngford to High Beach, vid Sewardstone, This is a hilly route, skirting the western edge of the Forest, part of the road going beyond the Forest precincts. On leaving the Fan It HoU I, turn to the right, towards the station; but at the end of the descent instead of b( anng to the left to the railway, turn sharp to the right over a newly-made road (Bury Path), across the plain. This is very bad going, being of a clayey surface, for 1 mil e , when it improves through Si wardstorn Green, h mile of rising ground, b( nding sharp to the left round a. eo< where a tine view over the country to the north-west is obtained. A steep hill is now descended, and the road bends towards Wal- tham Abbey ; turn to the right thrice, by J/n// Street, up Lep- pitt's Hill — a stitf climb — whence a fair but very up-and-down road goes to High Beach, 5| miles. Routt IX.— High Beach to Loughton. This is a good easy i road, descending gently to the "Robin Hood" public- house, where it crosses the direct North road ; up a slight incline and along a level bit called EarVs Path, through the Black Bushes : the scene then opens out. ■Buchhurst Hill bounding BY THE POBEST HOTEL. 38 EPP1XG FOREST. the right, and at the summit of Straioberry Hill roofs of Loughton are seen beneath; descending this hill, which is very steep, a pause may be made where the road divides at the bottom, to admire the conical hill on the left, capped by a pointed-roofed arbour. The road in front enters Loughton village, 1 A miles. Routi X.—High Beach to Wah Arm*. From the church the road passes two red-brick villas and the "King's Oak," on the right hand, with a fine prospect of the valley t<> the left ; the road then strikes through the wood, with a good level surface, to the head of the Riflt Range. Here a turn to the right saves nearly a mile, but to see the range itself we must keep to thi left, and descend a hill f mile long to the "Wood- bine " inn, the view in front, whilst descending this hill, being very fine. Turning sharp to the right then, we have a corresponding climb up Woodridden Hill to the •• Wake Aims," 'i\ miles from High Beach. Routt XI.— Wah Arms to Hipping. This is a direct continuation of Routes V. and VI., and consists of 2 miles of good level ground ; Ambres- bury Hanks (p. 68) being on the right, midway. Car cottage ; a road soon crosses, but keep straight on, noting the tine bit of valley scenery towards the east. At the fork, continue right, in the broader road ; down a steep pitch, and up a corresponding rise. At the top, the road curves to the left, with another tine prospect of gently undulating hills, and Theydon village dotting the foreground below. A very steep descent — Piercing Hill — follows, fringed by villas ; and a short up and down cut ends at Theydon Green, crossed by a fine avenue of trees. This is a steep but very good-surfaced 2 miles of road. Route XIII. — Theydon Boh to Wake Arm.*. From Theydon Green, strike off west, up Jack's J fill (rather a stiff climb) and by an undulating but capital surface through the bushes to Waki Arm*. It miles. Route XI}'. — Chingford to Lord'- Bushes. (Jo \ia Ranger's Road and the Tollhouse, as in Route VI., but after turning round by the Tollhouse towards Loughton, take the first turn to the right, which gives i.ecess to Lord's Bushes, through which a good road descends to a cul-de-sac at Monhham's Farm. 2| miles. i Ron* i' XII. — A/7//"//,'/ t<> Theydon Bois. Opposite the "Bell" at Epping, strike across tin green, and turn down the lane to the right by the tram- OVEE THE FOKEST IN TWO RlDKs. Routi XV.— "Forest Hotel" toWoodford WefaPolict Station (see Route IV. reversed) ; Tollgate, Buchhurst EPPIXG FORES T. 39 Hill, Loughton, and ''Wake Arms,"' (see Route VI.); Epping (Route XL); Theydon Bois (Route XII.); "Wake Arms" (Route XIII.); and Ranger's Road, (Route V.). Distance, about 10. \ miles. Route X VI. — "Forest Hotel" toSi wardslone, kndffigh Beach (Route VIII.) ; " King's Oak," Riflt Range, Wood- ridden Hill, "Wake Arms" (Route X.) : back across the head of the Rifle Range to High Butch; Fairmead Lodge, to the top of Ranger's Road (Route VII.) ; straight onto Tollhouse and Lord's Bushes (Route XIV.) ; and return via Ranger'* Road. About If) miles. Over the Forest in One Ride. Route XVII. — "Forest Hotel" to Ranger's Road, Fairmead Lodge, and High Beach (Route VII.); "King's Oak," Rifle, Range, Woodridden Hill, and "Wake Arms" (Route X.) ; Epping, Theydon Bois, and "Wake Arms" (Routes XI. — XIII.). Loughton (Route VI.); "Robin Hood" (Route IX.); past the top of Ranger's Road, to Tollhouse and Lord's Busht < (Route XIV.) ; return to Tollhouse and Woodford Wells Polict Station, Whit, hall Road to Chingford (Route III). About "22 miles. CHIXGFOKD. Chingford, as a glance at the map shows, is the centre of interest both of the Forest and the district. Beyond Chingford, London is quite out of sight and mind. Pedestrians need not concern themselves with what remains of the Forest stretching south of Chingford — in scrappy sections to Leytonstom and Wanstead. From Chingford Station a mad winds up on the right highi r breezy Forest ground. Up by the thick j ivi of old oaks, some picturesque gables and red chimin bhe green mark a spot of interest to the risitor. Tl to the Forest Hotel, the one u iry headquarters for Forest rambles in the district, standing on Forest ground. At the east end oi it- long, timber and plaster front is a smallei building of similar style, but of ancient date, known as Queen Elizabeth's Hunting Lodge. From this point the tal i .1 gen ml survey of the Forest. Just ''in Hotel and Lodge the open, green Chingford Plain descends to Connaught Waters, seen glinting in the glade from its fringe of foliage. From this lake the broken ground spreads away in a billowy, wooded stretch to the steepei 3lopes on the left of High Beach, which shut in the horizon, tin- spin- of High Beach Church peeping above the woods against fche skyline. From Higli Beach the line of Forest heights extends across on the right to the Loughton Hills. Immediately behind the hotel, across the open sward, a belt of woods shut-- in the horizon on that side. These are the Hawk and Bury Woods, which form part of the west edge of the Forest, spreading from near Chingford Station towards High Beach. Behind them is the Lea. Valley with Ponder'* End, the nearest railway station on that side. The grove of old oaks facing the hotel, and fringing Tin Forest Pool, screen the high ground of Buclchurst Hill, rising immediately in front, about a mile distant. The road past the hotel from Chingford Station, and descending the plain past Connaught Waters, \- named Ranger's Road. It terminates on the Loughton side in tin- N{ "' Read, which runs on the left through the heart of the Forest to Epping, and on the right to Woodford and London. Modern as the exterior of Qua a El* -.a I a Hi'* Hunting Lodge, so called, looks after its generous "restoration," its interior is little changed, The place is interesting, linking, as it does, the past with to-day. "Old Lodge," wrote William Howitt, "the hand of the past is impressed upon thee, and has giv< n VIEW KKOM THE FOREST POOL, CHINGPORD EPPING FOBEST. 41 thee a character. It has invested thee with the poetry of nature. Storms roaring through the huge elms that stand n ear — old companions : fierce winters beating on thy steep gabled roof, and linking thy timber-framed walls ; autumns and springs, and hot-baking summers, a long long series, come across the imagination as we think of thee. The broad easy oaken staircase— up which the heroine of the Armada and the ( [ueen of Scots' tragedy is said to have ridden to her dining- room— the tapestried chamber, and the banqueting-hall please me but far more the ancient desolateness without and around. ' HIOH BEACH AM' CONNAUGHT WATERS, FROM CHINGlr'ORD PLAIN. EPPING FOREST. 4:1 That "desolateness." exists no longer, and storms have played havoc with the <>M elms. But the lodge itself is probably now more like what it was when the chase- loving, king-like queen rode from the hunt up the broad massive solidly- built staircase, as a sporting celebrity of the county afterwards did to win a ten-pound wager. Good ( v »ueen Bess hunted from her youth upward, and in her fifty -seventh year was as keen a lover of field ?ports as in the early days of her glorious reign. Her visits to the Old Lodge and the Forest ait- said to have been neither few nor far between. The lodge is a three-storied building, small, tall, square and irregular, with a high-pitched roof and gable ends. Built of rudely-plastered brick and oak framing, its chief feature is the great staircase which projects into the hall, and has six landings with between each four broad steps, each of solid oak. strong enough to sustain the traditional horse and rider. The tapestried room on the first floor is in good preservation ; the basement is now used as a kitchen and parlour, and the top floor is tie "room of state."' with an arched timber roof rest- ing on massive beams. In this hall were held the minor Forest Courts in days when the grim and cruel old Forest Laws were enforced. It is usual to speak of these laws as if they " came in with the Normans." They existed here long before, and in other countries can be traced back into the remotest times. In the Bible we read of keepers of the royal forests at the time of Nehemiah's captivity in the reign of Artaxerxes. The Anglo-Danish monarchs were savagely cruel in the enforcement of their oppressive Forest Laws, and the Saxon monarchs had laws almost as severe, although they were more mercifully or care- lessly administered. Norman William enacted no new laws for the protection of his forests ; he enforced those already existing with perhaps unusual severity. These laws were the laws of Canute — really Knout, so called because he was regarded as the whip of the English made by him at Winchester. They remained in force until the reign of Henry III. If any freeman chased a deer or wild beast out of the Forest, whether intentionally or by chance, so that "the wilde beast is forced by swift running tolyll out the tong, or to breathe with his tong out of his mouth," he was fined what was then an enormous sum, ten shillings. If not free but servile, the offender might, according to the law, be skinned alive. The owner of any dog that had bitten a wild beast was fined twelve hundred shillings. And if the beast chanced to be what was called a Royal one— one which had been hunted by the King, the offence was even more grave. Poor people*s geese found astray in the Forest were killed, and their cattle impounded. Evidence was received in the Forest Courts that would have been peremptorily rejected in all others, mere hearsay often sufficing to condemn the accused. The punishments inflicted were cruel and disproportionate to the offences — fines of ruinous amount, loss of sight, or limbs, or life, and for a second offence certain death. Serfs or slaves were invariably slain, but even men of higher rank, esquire's and knights, did not escape the gallows. It should not be forgotten that there were special faci- lities for committing Mich crimes with impunity, and that the forests were regarded as royal property, and the 14 EPPING FOREST. timber and wild beasts within them, planted or reared, and carefully preserved 'V the royal servants, were as fairly and legally the King's as the estate of any freeman in the land, the crops grown upon it, or the cattle reared upon It. An old sixteenth century legal authority, Manwood, writing on Forest-law, says : "Thus saith the Law: It is allowed to our sovereign Lord the King, in respect of his continual care and labour for the whole realm, among other privileges, this prerogative : To havi hisplaces oj recrea- tion and pastinu wheresoever he "■ill appoint. For as it is tht liberty and pleasun of his Grace to reserve the wild beasts and the garm to himself for his only delight and pleasure, so In may also, at his fill and pleasure, mah << u,ri4 for them to abidi in." Those were not the days of a dense population and scanty soil, and the forests were essential to the needs of the people as well as to the pleasures of the King, for they supplied fuel for their winter tires and their manu- factures. It was common in olden times, and even down to our time, to make those laws most stringent and severe which ivere meant to repress such crimes as could be committed with the slightest chances of detection. The King's forests were open, their boundaries being merely rivers or hills, HUNTING-LODGE (BEFORE RESTORATION), ADJOINING THE F0BE3T HOTEL. EPPIXG FOREST. and in their wilds and thickets even large bands of thieves could find safe hiding-places in which for years they defied the power and skill of the foresters. Thus in days when the great forest of Essex had dwindled to the much smaller forest of Waltham, and even since it had diminished still more, and become known as Epping, ruffianly hordes made it their home, and, under the name of "The Waltham Blacks,'' spread terror over the face of the county. So in older times lawless out- casts, runaway slaves, and escaped criminals sought re- fuge in these scarcely penetrable wilds, and defied pur- suers. The hideous nightmare horrors thus created were but a reflex of those which existed in the days when " all conquering Caesar " so emphatically described them as "horrid." In recalling these things we shall have a much clearer idea of the scenes often enacted in the spacious hall of Queen Elizabeth's Hunting Lodge. Not only were matters of encroachment discussed and decided, the prices of timber, the number of faggots to be disposed <>f, what constituted reasonable estovers (official expenditure . th due delivery of the royal forest gifts (timber or venw.11, bird, beast, or fuel), some for the King's friends, some for the needy and poor, some for pious monks and nuns, the landV great dispensers of piety, learning, and charity. and so on. Under that noble oaken roof the " woodward made oath upon his axe, the forester upon his horn, and there the surly beetle-browed ruffian, taken red-handed in some desperate struggle, and the gaunt, desperate starving wretch who had been driven by the necessities of his wife and children to steal the King's game, received swift justice and scant mercy. There were forest rights as well as forest wrongs. Lordly abbots and cpieenly abbesses had the right to chase hares and- foxes or deer within certain limit-: freemen had their commoner's rights in the way of lop ping for fuel and so on. Questions affecting these would sometimes crop up in the Forest Courts, which were always, we may be sure, crowded with complaining suitors and trembling criminals, as well as with clamorous claimants for their real or imaginary rights. FOREST WALKS By Chingford Old Church to Hawk Wood and Bury Woo, I. This is a pleasant preliminary stroll. The road from the hotel down past the railway station bears through a colony of new red houses on its right to old Chingford Green, with its ancient forge, timbered houses, and modern ornate church. Beyond the church, on the right, is the village-pond. By it stands the old brick Lock-up, a relic of the days of wayside "stocks" and " gallows." The country road on the left, facing the pond, leads in ten minutes to Chingford Old Church. It lies back on a knoll half hidden by a fringe of old elms. Meadows slope down from its small green graveyard towards the Lea. Known now as the "Green" Church, it stands secluded and alone in its drooping decay, a suggestive memory of the old world passing away. The long, low nave is crumbling under a rank growth of ivy, which clings to the walls, clusters in thick masses on the roof, and waves above the old grey tower. The church is disused, and its interior seen through the iron bars of its paneless windows is dismantled. The once trim path to the porch, trodden by generations of rustic folk now sleeping beneath the worn and slanting stones under the sombre shadow of the yews is grass-grown, and almost obliterated. All records re- lating to the church are lost, and it has no place in local story and tradition. How and why it came to fall into ruin no one seems to know or care. Perhaps it is better so than to have fallen into hands such as built the new church on the (Ireeu, and suffered Vandal "restoration/ 3 Sufficient remains to recall the old country church so familiar in English landscape — a feature familiar to Americans long before they set foot here. Indeed, so characteristic is it, that Chingford Old Church might have suggested to Washington Irving, for his " Sketch Book," that pathetic sketch of the " Widow and her Son," with its rustic picture of English rural life fifty years ago. " I am fond," he writes, "of loitering about coun- try churches, and this was so delightfully situated that it f recently attracted me. It stood on a knoll, round which a small stream made a beautiful bend, and then wound its way through a long reach of soft meadow scenery. The chui'ch was surrounded by yew-trees, which seemed almost co-eval with itself." Morant, the old chronicler of Essex, tells how the Brans woods estate in the parish was held under the Hector of Chingford by this curious tenure : " Upon every alienation, the owner of the estate, with his wife, man-servant, and maid-servant, each single on a horse, go to the parsonage, where the owner does his homage and pays his relief in the following manner : he blows three blasts on his horn, and carries a hawk on his fist ; his servant has a greyhound in a slip, both for the use of BURY WOOD, CHINGFOUD receives a chicken for his hawk a peck of oats for his horse, and a loaf of bread for his grayhound. They all dine, after which the master blows three blasts on his horn, and they depart." Returning to Chingford Green, the lane to the left of the pond and " Lock-up " descends past the " King's Head." At the bottom of the hill, on the right, there is an opening called the Hawk's Mouth, between an old timbered and a modern brick house. A footpath leads up the green rising ground to the high edge of Havik Wood. From its "side one of the widest views in the whole district is obtained. It extends oyer one great green plain, spreading beyond the Lea Valley till the EPPING FOREST. 49 distant farms are mere red and yellow dots, bounded by the hills of Hertfordshire and Middlesex. The wood where it commences is a mere slip on the crest of the ridge, which slopes down on its opposite side in open ground to Chingford Plain. Further on the wood broadens out and covers the slope down into the valley. On the highest point of this open ground, by the right fringe of the wood, l'ises an obelisk — the ref erring-point for Oreenwich Observatory marking due north. A path runs through the centre of the wood. The smooth green trunks of the con- torted and dwarf pollard beech and hornbeam stand so close that their tufted heads meet in dense bramble- like luxuriance above, and throw one dim green shadow over the sloping ground. Continuing along the cent- ral portion of the slope, the under- growth presently grows thicker, and some fine forest oaks raise their unlopped heads above it. This is Bury Wood. It is here, in these thickets, that the thrush and black- birds sing the loudest to "the early morn." The path through it ends in a cut road, the Bury Path, running right and left. It leads, on the right, past the head keeper's (Mr. Foster's) lodge, back to Chingford Hotel, and on the left past the "Woodman," a way- side beerhouse on the skirt of the Forest to Seward- Stone Green, whence a pleasant footpath, just past Cash- field House, on the right, leads out by Day's Farm to LeppU'* Hill, commanding a fine view of the Lea Valley and the Forest. From Leppit's Hill the Forest is re-entered by Leppit's Hill Lane, and the return to Chingford is made through the Forest, skirting- its edge, back to the " Woodman," and by the "Bury Path," men- tioned above, to Chingford. OLD "LOCK-UP," chingford. CHIXGFORD TO HIGH BEACH. (a) By Hawk and Burn Wood*. There are several pleasant Forest ways avoiding the road to High Beach. One is by Hawk and Bury Woods, as shown in the preceding walk to the " Wood- man." From the "Woodman," the west or left edge of the Forest, if kept, serves as a guide right along to High Beach, though it should not be followed too closely, as the woods thin away towards the sides. Passing through a belt of pollard oak and thick undergrowth of green, the open sward of Woodman's glade is crossed, and then the thicket on the facing side. In the midst, overgrown with dense foliage, the Cuckoo Brook; which trickles towards Connaught Waters, is crossed. The way lies over it through the wood, across Ludgate Plain, a rushy space, through the thicket rising on the facing side, where the trees begin to show less traces of past lopping, and down into the broad, green glade of Fairmead Bottom. Crossing it, a dense wood ascends breast-deep in brake and bramble, thick with glistening holly, and in .May-time full of the scent of the sweet hawthorn. This sloping Hill Wood rises to a broad belt of noble beeches. Their smooth tapering branches, meeting high above, shade the cool sward still brown with last year's strewn leaves. Here and there shafts of sunlight pierce the tops, fleck the pale lichen-tinted trunks, touch the bronzed fallen leaves with gold, and light up arched vistas of road and glade beyond. These, the ancient trees of High Beach, fringe the highest Forest ground. The road which mounts the hill and breaks the centre of the wood, comes from Chingford, and leads to the green open plateau beyond the beeches. A road branches off at a sign indicating the way to the " King's Oak." The spire of High Beach Church rises above the trees just beyond. This road to the " King's Oak " is taken, and in five minutes leads on to an open height. The chief attraction of this much -frequented and cockney spot is the sunny expanse of country it commands. Bight and left spreads the green Lea Valley, with the wide pastures and woods of Hertfordshire and Middlesex, stretching to the horizon hills beyond. It is on this spot, with its fair prospect, that the Queen commemorated the dedication of the Forest to the people. The tree planted by Her Majesty stands within its paled protection on the sward just beyond the " King's Oak " inn. Here, too, once stood the ancient stump of an oak, famous as that which tradition asserts was named after our last Saxon king, Harold. In what remote period the tree became associated with this monarch, tradition sayeth not. We only know that here his manors were ; that in these wild woods, both before and after he wore a crown, he must have enjoyed many a glorious day's hunting, and possibly he planted it, or some stirring adventure now forgotten, of which this spot was the site, gave the ancient oak its royal name. BY COXXAUGHT WATERS. 4—2 EPP1XG FOREST. Down in the hollow are one or two taverns, and by one, a mere cottage — which exhibits an ancient pistol, cutlass and spurs, supposed to be in some way or another connected with the butcher-highwayman— is what is known as Dick Turpin'* Cavt . Nests of highwaymen and footpads once abounded hereabouts, and defied the runners. Dick Turpin is one of the better known of these gentry, whose adventure's, magnified by an unwholesome form of fiction, have given a certain interest to places associated with his name. Here at High Beach he had one of his favourite hiding- places, and all through the Forest, and in all the towns and villages nearest to it, he and his gang made them- selves terrible. Originally the rascal — born in Essex — was apprenticed to a \Yhitechapel butcher, and was so disorderly that his absence proved a source of considerable relief to his master. Marrying and starting in business for himself at Luton, by stealing instead of buying his beasts he hoped to make money at the expense of all the neighbouring gentry and farmers. Detected at last by some labourers employed by a farmer at Plaistow, he escaped the officers by jumping from a back-room window of his house. Then he became one of a gang of smugglers, and for a time was successful. Afterwards he joined a band of deer-stealers in Epping Forest, whose depredations not only made deer scarce in the Forest, but seriously thinned the surrounding parks. The keepers being strengthened in numbers, the gang took to house-breaking. Their practice was to knock at a door, and rush in when it was opened. The brutal character of the " dashing highwaymen " is seen in his leading the gang to an old lady's residence at Loughton. Turpin knocked, and on the servant opening the door they rushed in, blindfolded the poor old creature and her maid, and demanded money. The mistress persisted in denying that she had any in the house, and the burglars having vainly searched, were inclined to believe her. But Turpin, more cruelly determined, thrust the woman upon the burning coals, and despite her agonized shrieks and struggles, held her there, until at last, to escape torture, she told them where they would find her carefully concealed store of gold, in all about four hundred pounds. A.t another time, from motives of revenge, they broke into the house of one of the Forest keepers named Mason, beat him to death and ransacked the house, smashing the furniture, and carrying off a hundred and twenty guineas. Turpin's chief associates in crime were named Fielder, Rose and Walker. On several occasions. when disappointed of expected plunder, they were guilty of the most horrible acts of cruelty and violence. After they had beaten one poor fellow with the heavy knobs of their riding- whips, and inflicted wounds on his head with the butt-end of a pistol, they threatened to chop his legs off, and threw over him a kettle of boiling water. All this gang paid for their crimes except Turpin, who contrived by superior strength and activity to escape. He and a highwayman named Tom King next increased the dangers of the Epping road by robbing together. But so hot was the hunt for them, so heavy the reward, and so dire the threats against all who should give them shelter, that even the Forest taverns were closed against them, and labouring men formed themselves into little armed bands for their capture. He had a narrow escape from one of these while in a thicket concealing a cave, EPPIXG FOB EST. said to be this one at High Beach. Being discovered, he pretended to surrender to a man whose gun was levelled at his head, but directly the muzzle was lowered he leaped into his cavern, and from it, shot his would-be captor dead. He had other escapes as narrow, and was at last so hunted by men and blood-hounds, so harassed and worn by terror and hardships, that he was glad to escape into Yorkshire, where he took to horse-dealing, and being imprisoned under the name of John Palmer — Palmer was his wife's maiden-name — for shooting one of his landlord's fowls, other charges of horse-stealing were brought against him, and for these he was con- demned to death, and hanged on April 17th, 17:34. He stood on the ladder of the gallows nearly half an hour in conversation with the executioner, before he leaped from it with the noi.se round his neck, and after struggling for five minutes, hung motionless and dead. The story of his ride to York is fiction, although the feat was 1" rformed by another criminal, a Yorkshire man named Nevison. Turpin is described as having broad, high cheek-bones, a short face with a narrow chin, and deeply pitted with small-pox. The evil reputation of Epping Forest is of ancient date, and all through our social records stories of its terrors crop up. The Anglo-Roman travellers had not more dread of its coverts and thickets than had tho>e who lived in its neighbourhood after the Peace of 1698, when, as Macaulay notes, a large number of discharged soldiers turned robbers, and were so daring and numerous, that for some time cavalry every evening patrolled the roads leading into it. The "Annual Register" tells how, in 1775, the Norwich stage-coach was attacked by a band of highwaymen, three of whom were shot by the guard before he was himself killed. < hi the 'lind of January, 1793, the carriage of Mr. Alderman Palmer Ma- stopped on the New Epping Road by a single high- wayman, who carried off the Alderman's watch and fourteen guineas. VPP1NG FOB EST. FBOII HIGH BEACH. EPPJNG FOREST. CHIXGFOKD TO HIGH BEACH. (6) By the Green Ride and Fairmead Bottom (about 3 miles). A more direct Purest way, avoiding reads, to High Beach, is by a newly-constructed Green li'"l< , opening from the wood immediately behind the "Forest Hotel." .Standing at the back of either the Hotel or the Hunting Lodge, and looking down across the treeless plain, an opening' is seen on the side of the wood, about a hundred yards on the right of Bury Path, the road crossing the plain on the left. The ride entered, the way lies along the broad, cleared track, boggy in parts after wet, through a pretty wood abounding in birds. It crosses the two or three open glades referred to in the preceding High Beach route. On entering the third and broader .. I Ims- home Plain, dotted with bushes, the woods of High Beach are seen rising in front. Crossing it, and passing through the opposite thicket, Fairmead Bottom is entered, with Fairmead Lodgt on the right, at the base of the w L The ride continues up into the wood on the left of the lodge, and there ends. Bearing up through the beeches towards the right; Fairmead Road is entered, and this taken, leads to "the "King's Oak" (see previous route). CHIXGFORD TO HIGH BEACH. {<:) By Ranger's Road, Connaught Water, and 'h< ■■ R, d Path " (3 miles). This is the least interesting and road route. Taking finny,/* Road, past the hotel, to Connaught Waters, a, n d path is seen branching on the left just after passing the water. This crosses some thinly-wooded ground into Fairmead Road, which, taken on the left, leads past Fairmead Lodge through the Beech Wood, to the " King's Oak," as above. *"Vfl$ il ">wr w BEECH WOOir AT HIGH BEACH. CHINGFORD TO EPPIXG. Bij tli> Green Ride, Loughton Ancient Earthworks, Debden Slade, Sand Pit Plain, Littl Monk Wood, Great Monk Wood, ill' Ditches, Ambresbury Banks, Epping Thicket (about 7 miles). This is one of the longest, least frequented, most varied, interesting arid troublesome walks in the Forest. Chingford to Epping by r,oad, 6 miles, is pleasant in its way. But by this route, along the preen Ride, so called, the high-road is entirely avoided, and not a hundred yards of the entire walk is by road of any kind. It opens up each varied side of the Forest and its surrounding scenery — the cool, leafy glades so peculiarly English, the stretches of heathery slopes and rushy dells and breezy silver-birch-dotted uplands 'recalling the Western High- lands in miniature, the woods of one variety of tree grow- ing apparently in the prim order of a German forest; clusters of ancient beech recalling the Forest of Fontaine- bleau ; and again, stretches of dark, distant wooded hills •reminding one of the lower ridges of the Black Forest, as they rise along the Rhine Valley between Bale and Baden. It is only fair to say that the writer of this ' : Walk " tried to follow the route as it is given five or six times before succeeding. He has no object in magnifying its mazes, the contrary rather ; but remembering his own experiences — how he tried and failed, map and compass in hand, alone, and with others possessing keener eyes and wits ; how at last, reduced to seek the aid of the Forest-keepers, he was guided over the ground, noting each path and bend and height and hollow as he went ; and how, returning from Epping and trying to follow his own notes "backwards," he dismally tailed, and found himself half-way well out of the track and in the high- road — it is as well to warn the pedestrian that he may miss some of the points and paths. It scarcely niatteis, perhaps, if he does 1 , for in missing these he may discover others as pleasant. In any case, he does well who carries a flask and starts bowed down with the weight of sub- stantial sandwiches. One house only is passed on the way, a keeper's lodge ; and if the day be aptly chosen. from Wednesday to Friday inclusive, not half a dozen folk may be met on the path all day. The tiresome details which follow are the result of diligent plodding again and again over the ground. Route. — A black wooden barn stands close to Queen Elizabeth's Lodge, <>n Ranger's Road. By the barn the Green Ride, a broad track, slopes down Chingford Plain towards Connaught Waters, and enters the thin wood left of the lake. A short distance beyond the lake it divides, and the broad green clearing on the right is taken. A solitary full-grown oak, dominating the pollard growth around, stands in the centre at the end. By this tree, with its circular seat, named after Mr. Bedford, in recognition of his good work in preserving the people's 62 EPPING FOREST. Forest, but sometimes known as Grimston's Oak, five green paths diverge. The straight ride on the left, with the view of High Beach W i rising at the end. is taken. The riile after some rive minutes makes a deep dip. The hollow is curious for the luxuriant growth of ferns smothering it, and sending their great leaves six or seven feet up among the pollard boughs. Beyond this dip a second solitary oak. also with its circular seat, forms a central feature of the ride. Beyond this tr«-e. the ride continues about a hundred yards, then crosses a ditch into Fairmead Road, and ends. Looking straight across the open ground, another road, the N( w Road, is seen running parallel with Fairmead Road. On the facing ground rising beyond this second road, a young plantation, enclosed by a wire fence, is visible : and just to the left of it a yellow patch, denoting some gravel-pits by the edge of a wood. Crossing the roads and plain towards this planta- tion, and crossing the gravel-pits, a rough road is reached just behind. Taken to the left it leads in two minutes to another roadat right angles, with a fenced pond at the corner. This cross road is Earl's Path, leading on the left to the •• Robin Hood " inn, on the right into Lough- ton. Crossing Earl's Path, a broad path, the Green Ride again, is seen opposite the pond and taken. It goes straight through the le\ el wood some little way. and then begins to descend, overlooking at the brow a striking Forest view. From the deep hidden hollow below, a circular-pointed hill rises in front, draped in a dense growth of green. Beyond and commanding it, rise a broader sweep of wooded heights, quite shutting in the silent valley. The pedi trian, to observe this view, should halt where the ride begins to descend. At this point it steeply slopes down towards the left ; but a nar- rower track continues straight down towards the right. This track is taken. It leads down into a broad and dry part of the hollow, called U< bdt n Slad< . Kept correctly it enters the low, open sjjace by the side of a small pollard oak, standing alone just in front of the track and the wooded ride. If the Slade is entered a little too much right or left, it is well not to leave it till the green dry space is reached, and the oak struck. In front of the oak a narrow but clearly, cut ditch crosses the Slade towards the opp>osite rising wood. This ditch is followed f< r about thirty yards to the rushy level watercourse it serves. The watercourse resembles the Green Bide, and might be mistaken for it. But where the ditch ends and the watercourse commences, an open path is seen sloping on the right. This is the Green Bide, which broadens as it ascends. At the top of the sl< >pe the ride suddenly ceases, and continues a narrow path through what looks like a high ditch-bank, topped with pollard oaks. It is seen rising higher and more defined towards the left, where a path skirts the front of it. This bank is the southern part of what are known as The Ancient Earthworks of Loughton Camp. Before exploring them the visitor should note the path between the bank where he stands, as he will return to it to reach Monk Wood It proceeds right through the earthworks and conies out on the northern side, at what is called the Gate. It is now generally accepted, since the excavation and investigations of the Essex Field Club, that the Gamp belongs to some remote pre-Roman period. In cutting through rampart and ditch fragments of a priini- THE GREEN RIDE THROUGH EPPING THICKS. EPPING FOREST. 65 tive pottery were found, probably of early British origin. The ground enclosed by the earthworks, some 11 or 12 acres, is covered with a close growth of pollard trees. Only the broken ridge of ground forming the remnants of the ramparts, themselves overgrown with trees, serves to indicate the site. The spot, apart from its antiquarian aspect, has an interest as being still one of the wildest, and commanding one of the finest views in the Forest. It will serve the modern Briton for a secluded al- fresco luncheon as well as it served the Ancient Briton for stubborn defence. Continuing across the encampment along the path by which it was entered from Debdc/t Slade, the path, on reaching another running right and left at the north-west "gate," or opening, appears suddenly to end. A fringe of trees stops the way. Facing the path stand a large holly-tree and a pollard oak. A narrow track is just visible on the left side of the oak, and is taken. It bears slightly to the right in a north-westerly course over rough ground, through brake and ling, crosses an open rushy space, called Sand Pit Plain, and continues by a broad path, which narrows as it descends into a heathery track. The track leads down to the edge of Little Monk Wood, covering with its beeches a low circular hill. The path ceases in a soppy hollow. AN ANCIENT beech. The right slope of the wood is taken and followed round till a small running brook is reached, half hidden by young beeches overhanging. Descending and crossing the brook, where a rough worn track is seen, Great Monk 66 EPPIXG FOli EST. Wood, a fine spread of beeches about h mile in length', is entered. The brown ground is a deep carpet of dead rustling leaves. The pathless way lies through the length of the wood, keeping as near as possible in the centre, bearing first north-east, and then a little more towards the east. The wood ends almost on the edge of the Old Ha ml, which runs due north to the "Wake Anns," on the Epping New Road, and due south past Golding's Hill into Loughton. Emerging from Monk Wood, a h ept r's lodge should be seen, and must be found on the opposite side of the Oh I Road. Left of the lodge, where Luffman, a veteran Forest-keeper, lives, the Green Ride is entered again. From this point the ride is followed to Epping, and can scarcely be mistaken. Just beyond the lodge it descends into the deep hollow of Hani/boy Slade, mounts the facing side through the flowering Gorse Ground, and up through a poldered wood into a broad green track crossing it. This track, called the Ditches, is taken to the left. It pa«ses through some high pretty ground, sprinkled with holly, oak, and silver birch, little known. The path crosses the Theydon Road, which leads on the left to the " Wake Arms,"' and enters Long Running, a fine expanse of heather dotted with dwarf oaks and silver birch. The close growth of young beech and birch seen on the right is Theydon Wood, one ■ •f the thickest and most intricate parts of the Forest. About \ mile beyond the Theydon Road the path divides. < In the left it leads into the southern side of A mbresbury Banks; on the right the ride proceeds towards Epping. Soon after passing tin- Banks, it enters Epping Thicks between a noble line of oak and beech, forming a stately avenue through this iioithern corner of the Forest. Another broad aveirae, crossing it obliquely, runs on the left back to Ambresbury Banks and the Epping New Road, and on the right to Piercing Hill, which commands a wide view of this primeval portion of the Forest, of the Epping heights, and the Thames Valley on the far right. The ride, following the billowy contour of the ground, falls and rises in sunny slopes, and broadens. The ancient trees droop their long leafy branches lower to the greensward, and the deep undergrowth of holly, gorse and bracken, on either hand, grows thicker in these Epping Thicks as one advances. At length it rises and ends on the edge of open Epping Green. Cross- ing it to the left the Xew Road is reached, and followed for a mile, commanding fair views over the country- side on the right, up into the woodland town of EPPIXG, which stands three hundred and fifty feet above the sea-level, on the ridge of a line of hills extending north and smith through the Forest, a small old-fashioned market-town. 1 )ull and quiet appears this elongated straggling little j rlace, with its two irregular lines of houses stretching away from Epping Upland, by the church, down to Epping Townside, and Epping Street. But it was a bustling, busy, thriving place enough in the old coaching-days, as its many inns, open, or now turned to other uses, remind us. Then day and night, in quick succession, came coach after coach, with merry soundings of long horns, and jolly jingling of harness to the rhythm of beating hoofs, and the occasional explosive crack of some cheery coachman's long-thonged whip. Then hostlers and stable-helps EPPIXG FOREST. 6/ abounded, and were proud of the magical celerity with which they substituted for steaming foam-flecked horses, the fresh, brisk, cloth-covered teams led out to take their places. Then the guard's horn awakened a responsive clanging of the inn-yard bell, and waiters, all listless, idle, and half-asleep, started into sudden life and activity. Then excited people crowded to doors and windows to watch the coach go by, or gathered in gossiping and laughing knots *to see the horses changed ; while glasses were hurriedly emptied, and hastily ordered refreshments were rapidly consumed. Then all Essex gloried in the fame of Epping butter, and Epping cream ; then Epping pork was of a mellow whiteness, a chicken-like tender- ness, and a specially delicious flavour ; and a basket of Epping sausages was a gift gracious and savoury. Then market-day brought country-folk in crowds, until all the big roomy old inns were overflowing with them, until the broad, long street was full of their noises, and the market-place was a farmyard fair. But, alas ! these glories are departing, not to return. Railways have diverted both the traffic and the trade of Epping, and something ails the place, it has grown so staid and dull. Two of its best remaining inns are the "Cock," and "Thatched House." 5-*2 EPPING TO CHINGFORD. By the Neva Road, Ambresbury Banks, Copt Hall, and High Beach. Suppose that we have reached this little woodland town either by the walk from Chingford ^p. 61) or from Liverpool Street by the Ongar branch of the Great Eastern Railway ; and suppose we are now in its rustic dozy street, which is the Newmarket road, scarcely 17 miles from the dust and roar of town. The programme is to pass a-foot through the Forest to the Hunting Lodge of Queen Elizabeth at Chingford, and there to end a pleasant summer-day's stroll with a goodly dinner, for which this walk should provoke a portentous appetite, in Chingford's most comfortable and convenient of hotels, and either to stay there the night, or return to town from the station close by. To the visitor fresh from town the Forest air comes with a brisk buoyancj and sweetness. The sun is brighter, the sky bluer, tlie clouds higher than they were. We are where i _;reat-great-grandfathers made holiday from London, setting up their butts for archery and their rings for bouts of single-stick or wrestling, their may-poles for dancing and their tents for feasting, when '"Hey! for Epping Uptown !" was one of the most welcome shouts in London's ancient City. From Epping the way lies south along the undulating turnpike-road, which leads to London through the Forest. The road, as roads go, is a modern one, for the Forest has no ancient highways. Peaching the border- ing wilderness of glade and thicket, we have on our right hand that part of it known as The War reus, reached from the road over a tall ladder like stile, and about a hundred yards on our left, one of its most famous spots, and one of great historic and antiquarian interest — AMBRESBF/EY BANKS. This is believed to be the last fortified camp of the Britons, under their heroic Queen Boadicea, from which they marched to give battle to their Roman masters, and suffered a crushing and bloody defeat. It extends over a circuit of about a mile under the light-excluding boughs of small thickly-growing hornbeams and hazels, beech and oaks. The trees, dwarfed by repeated loppings, and disfigured with knobs and wens, look weird and strange in the green twilight of their low leafy crowns. Ancient and grey, wrinkled and gnarled, writhing and twisted into the most fantastic forms, here in intertwining groups like the stragglers in some desperate strife, there half prostrate, as if arrested in the very act of falling, they stand amidst the tangled undergrowth, with thickets of suckers shooting up about them, each tree more or less decayed, strangely impressive and solemn memorials of one of England's most ancient battlefields. So over- grown is the camp, that you may wander all about it without suspecting that you arc on it, until you begin '■$fk f M$\ patiently to follow its broken clues, finding it here by some %t/J~- gent * e declivity, worn down by the accidents of time and ■ weather, there by some rising banks which are evidently artificial, and farther on where ditch and boldly rising earth- , work above it are conspicuous as the work of warlike i hands familiar with their task. In two places, for \ the sake of making a straight new road between Debden (preen andEpping Market, the bankhas been cut through and the ditch filled up ; but originally the camp, which must have lieen made within the very heart of an all but impenetrable forest, was weakened POLLARDS UN AMBKEsUURY BAXKs. EPPIXG FOREST. 71 by no regular entrances. The space its irregular form covers is nearly 12 acres, and it stands half in the parish cf Epping, and half in that of Waltham. Old soldiers coming to this spot, and recognising its meaning without knowing the tradition of its origin, have fallen into the error, bo common under like circumstances all over the country, of attributing it to the time of the great puritan rebellion, and the handiwork of Oliver Cromwell. The Trinobantes' camp was, for a time, doubtless one of perfect safety, accumulating stores and growing daily stronger. The fierce, yellow-haired queen's standard of revolt was a rallying-centre for all the land. The Iceni gathered upon the woodland hills surrounding Colchester in overwhelming numbers, and flocked towards it. The united tribes defeated a legion of Roman veterans, the ninth, and destroyed the whole of its infantry. They frightened the Romans from London, and laid it in smoking, blood-reddened ashes. In the course of a few days, quarter being refused to all, they had slain in fight, in massacres, and deaths by torture, no less than seventy thousand souls. Tacitus pictured the horrors of that revolt. Terrible omens foretold it. The Romans were filled with fear. Their statue of Victory fell as if in 'the act of yielding to a foe. Mysterious howlings arose in the theatres, strange noises disturbed their meetings in the council -house ; fearful apparitions were seen in open day, and inspired women cried aloud in the streets, warning them to fly the coming slaughter and destruction, while night after night the sky was red in the flames of destroying tires. Recovering from their panic, reinforced by fresh troops, the Roman army advanced, and here, savs tradition, near their stroii.;' camp, somewhere between Epping and Waltham, was fought the great battle. The Britons were from one hundred to two hundred thousand strong, far outnumbering their better disciplined foes. Boastful and confident, the} - counted upon an easy victory, and brought their women and children to witness it from rows of carts ranged in a line behind. Massed togethei behind their great shields, with the thickets at their back, the Romans patiently sustained the successive onslaughts of their foes, until signs of disorder and confusion became apparent. Then, assuming that wedge-like form so often afterwards adopted, they attacked in turn, and with such dire effect that eighty thousand of their enemies were left dead in the Forest, the women and children and the barricade of carts increasing the wild confusion of the flight. The Roman loss was foui hundred. Standing here en the site of camp and battle, it is pleasant to think how peace and safety have been built up in this dear old isle of ours since the days when Celts had sway, and Epping Forest was a scene of pitiful internal strife. Leaving the old British camp, we return to the road, and taking- the left-hand direction, pursue it until we find, almost directly and on our right, another road, by ;i sign-post, plunging into the Forest. Following it. we come soon after to where we see on the right the gates of Copt Hall Pari; with the lodge beside them. Beyond these gates lies a glorious bit of Forest scenery, called The Wan-in, of which the chief portion spreads away to the right from the gates. Parts of this wood — for such it is — lying in the deeper and darker hollows are singu- 72 LPPIXG FOB EST. laxly suggestive of their past history, when they formed the home and hiding-places of reckless outcasts, upon whose lives a price had been set, and against whom every man's hand was raised, as theirs was against every man. From these deep thickets they stole when night fell on the Forest to slay the deer, or snare the smaller game, to cut and carry away the timber, or rob and slay some lonely traveller. Now and then they would break into the quiet home of a too conscientious and active game- keeper, to revenge in torture and death some comrade's capture and execution. The terror of the country round, few indeed were those who dared venture after dusk along the New Road between London and Epping, unless they were either exceptionally bold men, heavily armed, or strongly escorted ; and there was a time when even cavalry troops were employed constantly to guard the roads, now so secure and peaceful. This state of things was not put an end to until about the middle of the last century, when the estate, having lung before passed into the hands of an old Yorkshire family named Con vers, Mr. John Conyers cut down the thickets, made paths through the wood, drove out the robbers and poachers, and, by erecting cottages and converting waste portions of the park or forest into cultivated land, succeeded in makiDg the violent depredators honest, civilized and peaceable labourers upon his own estate: a worthy man, and one to be honourably remembered here in Essex. About a hundred years since, the Warren, being re- garded by its owner as a profitless waste, covered as it then was with hornbeams, pollards, and brushwood, furze and gorse, impenetrable masses of brambles and thorny brakes, he offered it to a speculative farmer in the neighbourhood for 2s. 6d. an acre, on a lease of forty years. The farmer declining this apparently tempting offer, it was ploughed up and sown with the seeds of almost every kind of tree, thrown in and left to chance. The young plants sprang up and flourished, and grew to form at last one of the finest woods in the county. Copt Hall was so named by the Saxons from Coppe, the top of a hill. It was of old "a place of pleasure and privacy " for the successive mitred abbots of Waltham (see p. 84). Thence they went a-hunting here in the Forest. There they received hospitably distinguished guests ; and thence in stately procession they rode forth to take their ]>laee in the great councils of the nation. The Princess, afterwards Queen Mary, was living at Copt Hall in 1551, when three <>f her servants were summoned before the Privy Council, and their royal mis- tress was by them informed that nia^s was no longer to be performed there by her Roman Catholic chaplains. Mary was, however, as she said, ready to obey the royal commands in all things except matters of religion. Mass she would have. But she showed less tolerance than she then received in the first year of her reign, when three years afterwards she gave orders fur burning alive "such obstinat persones" as also refused to recognise the royal right to dictate to them their religion. Her right to have the mass was one thing : their right to refuse it was quite another. In 1572 the old palace of the abbots passed from the Fitz Archers, by sale, into the hands of Sir Thomas Henneages and his wife Anne, in fee tail. Sir Thomas was a person of high rank and power in the Court of Queen Elizabeth, Captain of the Royal Guards, Treasurer of the Chamber, Privy Councillor, and Vice- EPPIXG FOB EST. 73 Chamberlain of the Royal Household. By him it was rebuilt and greatly enlarged from designs by Thorpe, its most remarkable feature being a great gallery fifty-six yards in length. From this nobleman it passed by mar- riage to Sir Moyle Finch, from whom it came into the possession <>f the Sackvilles, who made it their seat. Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset, the famous poet and wit — of whom Lord Macaulay said his songs had " the ea J vigour of Suckling," while his satires sparkled " with wit as splendid as that of Butler," author of " Hudibras," lived here. Here, too, the rival poet and dramatist of Dryden, portly, dissipated Thomas Shadwell, his personal enemy and his successor to the post of Laureate, wrote that famous old comedy "The Squire of Alsatia," bor- rowed so freely from " The Adelphi ' of Terence. The Earl of Rochester wrote : ' Of all our modern wits none seem to me Once to have touched upon true comedy But hasty Shadwell and slow Wycherley.' In a different spirit Dryden wrote of him : ' I will not rake the dunghill of thy crimes, For who would read thy life that read thy rhymes ?' In June, 1660, when the people of England, weary of their Puritan rulers, went wild with delight and joy because Monarchy had been restored, Charles II. dined here as the guest of the Earl of Middlesex, on which oc- casion it is said he struck a loin of beef with his sword in token of knighthood, and jestingly called it "Sir-Loin." After passing successively into the possession of the Earls of Winchelsea and the Lords Grey, it fell, late in the seventeenth or early in the eighteenth century, into the hands of the Conyers, formerly of Yorkshire, but then of Walthamstowe, by one of whose descendants, in llh-i, the dilapidated old Elizabethan mansion, with the ancient chapel of the abbots, were pulled down, and a little dis- tance from their site was reared the present house, which is neither particularly handsome nor picturesque. Copt Hall, about fifty years or more ago, was the abode of a mighty hunter, to whom all theNimrods of the county flocked ; and many a gay carouse, after the pleasure of the chase, has made its roof -tree ring with laughter and songs of jovial companionship. Continuing our way past the Lodge, we follow the line of the park palings over rising ground, broken and rough, amidst ancient trees and bramble-bushes, to rejoin the Lodge Road at a point farther < >n, where it goes down into the hollow known as Copt Hull Green. Here, in a shady corner to the left, stood, until November, 1884, quaint old Copt Hull Farm, which had been known for some years before that time as an inn, with the sign of "The Rose and Crown." Of this house a ghost story is told. It runs thus : There was once a gentleman of Essex, named Wbode, who shocked his more superstitious neighbours by jesting at what he called their weak-minded notions about ghosts and spirit-visitors. He one day came to this quaint farmhouse, in its solitary nook, on a visit to his old friend, the proprietor, who it seems was in trouble, and greatly needed a generous friend's advice and aid. And on a dull, misty evening in March, when the gloom of the twilight was thickening in the low sitting-room, and the corners nearest the small low windows were already dark, he sat with his mournful friends in quiet talk. The 74 EPPIXG FOREST. wind was moaning drearily outside, and the rain dashing in fitful g usts upon the glass. The host and his wife had been bewailing a noble fortune wasted. Mourn- fully they talked of when they would be turned out of the home where they had passed so many happy years, and enjoyed so many merry meetings. They recalled memories of the dead, who had shared their pleasures. Strange noises came in hoarse, faint whispers from the neighbouring forest, suggesting weird thoughts of ghosts and supernatural terrors. The hostess left the room to send in candles, and about three minutes after a fearful crash, mingled with shrieks, rang through the house. Mr.Woode, alarmed, rose : the husband — his nerves already unstrung — remained Mated, trembling so that for a few minutes he was unable to move. At last he mustered courage enough and hastily ascended the stairs, followed by a frightened maid-servant. Mr. Woode, remaining at the room door, heard directly after another fearful shriek, and leaping up the stairs, nearly fell over his host, flat on his face upon the landing, in a pool of blood. The serving- maid was beside him in a fit. On the stairs above, all bedabbled with crimson smears, lay the mistress ! To her he first gave attention, carrying her into the kitchen while he pumped for her a glass of water. To his horror, application to the pump-handle brought not water, but a blood-red stream ! Bathed in icy perspiration, and trem- bling, full of fear and horror, the unbeliever again applied to the pump. Again the gla>s was rilled with crimson fluid, and again he threw away its loathsome contents, but still the pump-handle banged and creaked. Gradually the red became pink, and the pink paler, and at length pure water filled the glass. He was using this to bathe the lady's face, and pouring a little of it into her mouth, when the terrified husband and maid-ser\ant came in, and the other servants quickly joined them. The lady's recovery explained all. She had some choice cherry-brandy, and to preserve it from the greedy harpiies of the law she had put it on a row of jars on the shelf of a disused cupboard, which contained also the trunk of the pump below. While reaching a-tiptoe to bring clown a jar for her guest the rotten shelf gave wa} r , the jars were smashed, and the crimson fluid poured over her and down the trunk of the pump ; hence her shrieks and her fall. Mr. Woode had been pumping out not, as he thought, blood, but cherry -brandy and water. The host had stumbled up the stairs, and the blood in which his face reposed was from his nose. The frightened maid had tumbled fainting over him, and — that is the ghost story of Copt Hall Farm. A new red-brick inn stands on the site of the old farm. Turning our back upon it, we follow the road before us past some small cottage-inns, with Copt Hull Park upon our right, until we come to a footpath also on the right leading along by the Park, to where the old Hall itself is seen standing beside its gardens. From that point the wanderer may make his way either over the woody slopes and hollows to the ladder stile already mentioned as being in the Epping New Road (see p. 68), or return through the Forest by the l.inhji Road — not that by which we came— for there are two mi named, because both lead to the Lodge gate.-. The second of these roads, the longest, is indeed a pleasant one. The woodland nooks on either hand, descend in cavernous green hollows, with shallow arbours A.MEKESBURY BANKS. EPPING FOREST. ;:» -and arches, with ferns and grasses, flowers and flowering bushes, the leafy over-shadowing boughs, and the flicker- ing sun-rays playing about, now here, now there, in circular spots of brilliant light, showing, as they fall upon the white stems of the graceful birch-trees, like discs of burnished silver. The road winds on in billowy undu- lations, and in the hollows to left and right every now and then we see large pools of water overgrown with feather-topped reeds. At last, curving away on the right, the road carries us back into Epping New Road, at a point where, on the other side of the road, a stretch of the wild is called Lomj Running. This is one of the spots most in favour with "picnic parties,',' as the gipsies know well enough. Of this portion of the country William Howitt, who lived for years in its neighbour- hood, wrote in his "Year-Book of the Country :" " We break the spell of town dreariness, and are once more in the woods. We take our first flight into the near Forest of Epping ; we walk for miles in green glades and beneath the close covert of the green boughs of the hornbeam trees ; we pass on and (it being Whitsuntide) wonder where are the people who in caravans have gaily driven from town to enjoy the Forest freshness. . . . With their looped-up curtains, their streaming ribands, their bright colours, on they go, in trains of ten or twenty filled with happy people. Sometimes whole troops of schoolboys or schoolgirls fill them, who sing all together as they go out of the great Babel into free nature. Sometimes they are servants, youths and maidens, who have subscribed their penny a week to the association to which they belong, for these rural excursions. Sometimes they are young people of another class, mixed with husbands and wives, and even little children. . . . They have music. It plays as they go, and they sing as they go; and when the music is not heard there is a merry clatter of voices, of laughter, and of jokes. What lords and princes are half so happy ? Away they stream, van after van, witli their sumpter waggon, well stored, trotting on behind. Behind them lies the great brick-and-mortar wilderness, with all its labours and cares ; before them, for oik- long day, the wilderness of green trees, straggling shrubs, and tall ferns, where the little brooks run in their half- concealed courses, and the thickets are wildest and most dense." Here and hereabout abound the most interesting birds, and in lower portions, where the soil is damp, the rarest insects and the most beautiful wild flowers. Every naturalist who lives near Epping knows what a happy hunting-ground it is for the plants and living creatures, which are spoken of in a later chapter. " The fringed buck-bean, the delicate bog pimpernel and marsh campan- ula, the insect-catching sundew, and the pretty spotted orchises," says Alfred K. Wallace, " with many other choice plants," may all be found in the wilds of dear old Epping. Continuing south by the New Road (a foot-path runs parallel with the road in the wood, and is more pleasant walking), the "Wake Arms," a frequented forest tavern, is reached. Here five roads meet. One on the left, the Old Road, runs through the Forest, and out of it to Loughton (p. 91). Another, diverging angularly on the left, runs to Jock'* J I ill and Theydon Boi-s (p. 93). Two roads diverge on the right — one over Woodridden Will I p. 83), the other to the "King's Oak" and High Beach (p. 50). The New Road continues straight on, and is the 76 EPPIKU FOREST. most direct way to Chingford. A forest-path runs a few \;inls from the road along its right edge as far as the " Robin Hood " inn, and in summer avoids the heat and dust. But should the day be quiet, and the dust not great, let as cry with the highwaymen of the spirited old song, "Hurrah ! hurrah! for the road!" It is a delightful "ine, varying on either side as we advance, now rising into steep high banks, now diving into deep hollows, swelling into hills, sinking into valleys, the road winding as it falls and rises in long undulating waves. At frequent intervals, and on either hand, great pools of water reflect the rushes and flowering water-plants, the overhanging boughs and bushes, the deep blue of the sky. and the pearly delicacy of its lazily floating clouds. ( tin- of these, in what is called the Wake Valley, is still known as Dick Turpin's pond. Every now and then we are tempted to scramble down or up into the forest's domain, plunging through briar and bush, into great beds of giant ferns, stooping under low entangled luanehes, forcing our way through straggling bramble- bushes and thorny briars., winding in and out amidst oak and birch, beech and hornbeam and thorn, and a bewildering maze of whispering ^reen leaves. Perhaps we an- nearing the end of our summer day's ramble somewhat wearily, thinking of rest ami refresh- ment at Chingford. The- twilight deepens about us. 'I'Ih- birds are singing their lullaby to tin- day. We realize the safety and peace on this lonely road as we contrast it with the time, almost within living memory, when quiet pedestrians dreaded it. The pale grey earth- mists are stealing upward into the pensive tender- ness of the quiet sky. Passing between us and those rich deep purples of remote distances, which rise above or peep through gaps in the blackened green of forest trees, it shows like the bloom upon a ripe plum. We see from the road woody valleys lost in misty shadow, with hill-sides and terraces of trees rising to catch the weak faintly-golden glory of the rising moon. Paler and more coldly blue the extreme distance peeps here and there through the purple, and blending with the sky is veiled from sight. The road winding upwards through the wood assumes an age-like grey. The ponds on either hand look up through the gathering dark with a cold, weird glare. The air is filled with low, confused music — the vesper hymn of the birds. The soft low cooing of the pigeons, and the low hum in which insects express their happiness and content, blend harmoniously. The tapping of the supper-seeking woodpecker sounds on our ears singularly distinct and clear. The whole Forest, spreading away from us on every side, is filled with the sounds of life ; and the bats, diving and winding in eccentric flight, announce the approaching night. Reaching the "Robin Hood," the road descends, skirts Fairmead Bottom, and presently shows us. on our right hand, the Ranger's Road,which takes us to hotel or train at Chinffford. CHINGFORD TO CHIGWELL. .•. ^1 IiROADSTROOD LODGE. By the Green Ride, Ancient Earthworks, Little and •Great Monk Woods, Hangboy Slade, Debden Green, the Roding Valley, and Chigwell Leine (7 miles). This is the most pleasant and indirect way to Chigwell. It is not a true forest-walk, for Chigwell lies out of its domain ; but what is not forest is fresh ana breezy country. From Chingford the route is followed to Broadstrood Lodge on the Old Road, as described in "Chingford to Epping " (p. 61). Reaching that secluded cottage, where the year through a wood-fire glows and crackles on the kitchen-hearth, the Green Bide on the left is taken down into Hangboy Slade, the valley below. Just before reaching the bottom of the Slade, a track leaves the Ride on the right. This track, which runs along the valley, is taken. It winds slightly to the left through dense growths of bramble, arching overhead. At the end of the Slade, it mounts towards the right, and leads up and out of the Forest by a white house on a short road. This road descends to Debden Green, a small triangular grass patch, with a few houses. If the pedestrian, t?king some other path, should not come out at the exact spot, he should inquire, and make for the Green. The road leaving it on the right is taken, and winds down by the grounds of Debden Rail on its left. It continues down a rustic oak-shaded lane, and bears, at the first branch, to the left, through rolling tree-fringed pastures. At its end stands the Rectory, by the green corner of the cross lanes— a white house, lying back among its dark firs and noisy rookery. Taking the lane on the left, it presently ascends, shaded by the tall trees of Loughton Hall on the right. Passing the pound, the lane descends int.. the pastoral Roding Valley, leaving EPPING FOREST. Chigwell Lane Railway Station on the left. Then it crosses the pretty narrow stream, and ascends the sloping side of the vale. At the top it skirts Roll* Park on the left, and commands views of the dark Forest ground spreading away on the right. Then, shaded by some high elms, it slopes down towards the timbered houses and ancient church of CHIGWELL. " Chigwell, my dear fellow, is the greatest place in the world. Name your day for going. Such a delicious old inn, facing the church — such a lovely ride — such forest scenery — such an out-of-the-way rural place — such a sexton ! I say again, Name your day." So wrote Dickens to Forster in 1841, while he was working at " Barnaby Budge." The Chigwell that delighted Dickens is the Chigwell, very little changed, of to-day. The same church, the same inn, the same wooden cottages climbing the hill behind their small flowering front gardens, the same shady country road wimliiiL; down towards London. As in Dickens' time, so now. there is no railway station at Chigwell village, which dozi a undisturbed by any such innovation. .Much of the "local colour" of Chigwell tinges "Barnaby Budge." The "King's Head," with its long, quaint, gabled front and swinging Bignboard, with its ample kitchen and its "best room," served for the " Maypole." " In the year 177."," the story opens, "there stood upon the borders of Epping Forest, at a distance of about 12 miles from London, a house of public entertain- ment called the 'Maypole,' an old building, with more gable-ends than a lazy man would care to count on a sunny day ; huge zig-zag chimneys, out of which it seemed as though even smoke could not choose but come in more than naturally fantastic shapes, imparted to it in its tortuous progress ; and vast stables, gloomy, ruinous, and empty. The place was said to have been built in the days of King Henry VIII. ; and there was a legend, not only that Queen Elizabeth had slept there one night while upon a hunting excursion, to wit in a certain oak-panelled room with a deep bay window, but that next morning, while standing on a mounting-block before the door with one foot in the stirrup, the virgin monarch had then and there boxed and cuffed an unlucky page for some neglect of duty. The 'Maypole' was really an old house — a very old house ; perhaps as old as it claimed to be, and perhaps older, which will some- times happen with houses of an uncertain age, as with ladies of a certain age. Its windows were old diamond- pane lattices : its floors were sunken and uneven ; its ceilings blackened by the hand of Time, and heavy with massive beams. It was a hale and hearty age, though, still ; and in the summer or autumn evenings, when the glow of the setting sun fell upon the oak and chestnut trees of the adjacent forest, the old house, partaking of its lustre, seemed their fit companion, and to have many good years of life in him yet." One can repeople the place with Dickens' characters. There is the low room, with the small panes, against which John Wiflett flattened his nose, looking out on the dark night, as the story begins, when the village cronies, Tom Cobb, the general chandler and post-office keeper ; CHIGWELL CHURCH AND INK FROM HALL LANE. EPP1NG FOREST. H long Phil Parkes, the ranger ; and little Solomon Daisy, the parish clerk, were seated round the March tire. There is the "cosy bar," where Willett dozed, and where later the Gordon Rioters, on their way to the "Warren," left him bound and demented. Then there is the panelled "great room" upstairs, with its square casement, carved beams, and high chimney-piece, where Mr. Chester stayed, and met Mr. Geoffrey Haredale, of the " Warren ;" and hard by there are the stables, where Hugh, and Barnaby, and the Raven slept among the straw. Roaming through the old place, the incidents of "Barnaby Rudge" come back again, down to the time when the story closes, and old John Willett retires to a Chigwell cottage, and young Joe Willett and Dolly Varden settle down in life at the immortal " May- pole." Facing the inn is the old church, with its low tower and wooden steeple, and its dark yew avenues leading from the road to the porch and chancel door through the old tombs. Here it was in the quiet graveyard, one remembers, that Barnaby and his mother, and of course the Raven, took their frugal dinner while waiting for the coach. "The raven was in a highly reflective state, walking up and down when he had dined with an air of elderly complacency, which was strongly suggestive of his having his hands under his coat-tails, and appearing to read the tombstones with a very critical taste. Some- times after a long inspection of an epitaph, he would strop his beak upon the grave to which it referred, and cry in his hoarse tones, "I'm a devil, I'm a devil, I'm a devil !' but whether he addressed his observations to any supposed person below, or merely threw them off as a general remark, is a matter of uncertainty." On the floor of the chancel rests a brass of Archbishop Harsnett, founder of Chigwell School, close by the church. The bishop wears stole, alb. dalmatic, and cope, and holds a mitre and crozier. The inscription, translated, reads : " Here lieth Samuel Harsnett, formerly vicar of this church. First the unworthy Bishop of Chichester, then the more unworthy Bishop of Norwich, at last the very unworthy Archbishop of York, who died on the 25th day of Ma}', in the j - ear of our Lord 1631. Which very epitaph that most reverend prelate, out of his excessive humility, ordered by his will to be inscribed to his memory." This brass was formerly on the east wall, which accounts for its fine unworn surface. There are few finer brasses in more perfect preservation to be seen in England. The interior of the church is spoiled by unsightly galleries and pews, but these are to be cleared away. The one architectural feature o'_ interest is the fine south Norman door, almost hidden by the modern wooden porch. CHIXGFORD TO CHIGW T ELL, (b) By Ranger's Road, Buchhurst Will, the Boding Meadoios, awl Hall Lane. {About Sh mil**.) This is a more direct, but not a Forest route. A few minutes below the Fored Hotel, Ranger's Ro-J EPPING FOREST. the road rises a patch of Forest ground. This is crossed b}* a worn path, and leads into the Cricket Ground, a cleared green space. Crossing it, the Old Road is reached. The "Roebuck," a gable-roofed inn, is seen lying back from it on the left. From the "Roebuck" a narrow path, by the flagstaff at its side, leads down to the right of Buckhurst Hill Farm, through the farmyard, and into a rough cart-track leading straight down the sloping fields beyond. It crosses the railway, passes down another field, and enters the green level pastures of the Roding. A grass track denotes the way to the White Bridgi on the left, crossing the stream. Beyond the bridge the path ascends to the right past some clustering trees, as- cends a pasture field, and enters the plea- sant shaded Hall Lam . which slopes up to Chigwell by the side of the Church. CHIGWELL TO CHINGFORD, /;.// Hall Lane, the Roding Valh y, and Buckhurst Hill. The previous route n_-\ ersed istheshortest way to Chingford, or it may be varied slightly from the Whitt Bridge, crossing the Roding. From the bridge two grass tracks diverge, the right leading to the "Roebuck" as described above, the left bearing over to the bottom of Buckhurst Hill, by the Railway Station. Thence the way lies up Queen's Road into the Old Road on the top of the hill, with the spire of St. John'* Church seen on the right. Turning down on the left of a powl just before reaching the church, the New Road is entered. From this a turning on the left by the side of the " Reindeer " inn, enters the Forest. Bearing by a path leaving the road on the right over some open pasture, the Ching Brook is crossed by a plank bridge, and the Oak Grove is entered in front of the Chingford Hotel. Another way from Buckhurst Hill Rail- way Station, and a more pleasant our, is through Lord's Bushes, an isolated piece of Forest. The way lies past the sta tion along the bottom of the hill till Lord's Bushes are reached. Thence th'- way lies up through them to the top of the hill, where the New Road is en tered. and kept to the right till the "Rein- deer" inn, mentioned above, is reached. OLD HOUSES, CHIGWELL. -**&