t must have been great.

The most celebrated, if not the biggest oak in the New Forest is the
Knightwood oak, not far from Lyndhurst; it is 17 feet in
circumference, which would make it not less than 450 years old by the
above rule. It is strange to think that it may have been an acorn in
the year 1469, in the reign of Henry VI., and that 200 years later it
could easily have peeped over the heads of its neighbours in 1669, to
see Charles II., who probably went riding along the main Christchurch
road from Lyndhurst with a team of courtiers and court beauties, in
all the pomp of royalty. We know that in that year with reference to
the waste of timber in the Forest during his father's reign he was
especially interested in the planting of young oaks, and enclosed a
nursery of 300 acres for their growth. It is also recorded that he did
not forget the maids of honour of his court, upon whom he bestowed the
young woods of Brockenhurst.

"Oak before ash--only a splash,
Ash before oak--a regular soak,"

is a very ancient proverb referring to the relative times of the
leaves of these trees appearing in the spring, and is supposed to be
prophetic of the weather during the ensuing summer. I have, however,
noticed for many years that the oak is invariably first, so that like
some other prognostications, it seems to be unreliable.

The attitudes of oak trees are a very interesting study. There is the
oak which, bending forwards and stretching out a kindly hand, appears
to offer a hearty welcome; the oak that starts backward in
astonishment at any familiarity advanced by a passing stranger. The
oak that assumes an attitude of pride and self-importance; the oak
that approaches a superior neighbour with an air of humility and
abasement, listening subserviently to his commands. The shrinking oak
in dread of an enemy, and the oak prepared to offer a stout
resistance. The hopeful oak in the prime of life, and the oak that
totters in desolate and crabbed old age. The oak that enjoys in middle
age the good things of life, with well-fed and rounded symmetry; and
the oak that suggests decrepitude, with rough exterior, and a
life-experience of hardship; the sturdy oak, the ambitious oak, the
self-contained oak, and so on, through every phase of character. No
other tree is so human or so expressive, and no other tree bespeaks
such fortitude and endurance. To say that a well-grown oak typifies
the reserve and strength of the true-b