A DRIVE IN THE FOREST OF DEAN.

GOING down the Wye, the boatman tells his fare that on his left hand, from Lydbrook downwards for an indefinite distance, lies the Forest of Dean. We wonder how many of the numerous visitors who yearly go through the Wye tour have the curiosity to diverge at all into the picturesquely-named district so close to them. Some, we suppose, associate it chiefly with coal- trucks, and suppose that whatever trees it may have once pos- sessed have long ago disappeared before colliery and furnace. But the majority disregard it, simply as being out of their track. And easy as it is to ridicule this habit of thought, there is a good deal to be said for it. What is more painful than indecision? To be uncertain whether to pay the bill at the inn where one has just breakfasted, or to order dinner ; whether to start on foot, by rail, or by carriage,—this makes the victim truly miserable. And it leads also to objective disaster, for by the time it is resolved to take the train out to some inter- esting spot and walk back, it also becomes clear that the only train which would have enabled us to make the excursion success- fully has left ten minutes ago. Suppose even that a vigorous effort is made over-night to form the ensuing day's programme. Probably some essential item of information is wanting, and half the precious hours of the morning are spent in ascertaining There is much, therefore, to be said in favour of a well-digested plan of campaign, arranged by the light of "Bradshaw," "Murray" or "Black," and the Ordnance Map, before the terra firma of London is left. But human, or at least British, nature rejoices in a good day's work, whether for pleasure or profit. Hence there is little room for any- impromptu voyaging in such a scheme, and to depart a hair's-breadth from the lines laid down is to omit some- thing intended to be done. Haply, when we have arrived at that " stationary state" to which the greatest economical teacher of the age looked with so much satisfaction, we may be able to take 41 holiday in a leisurely manner, influenced by a general idea, but entrusted with discretion as to details, and may then be able to pluck on the march a wayside flower of scenery, and to see some- thing we did not mean to see at starting, and which everybody does not think it his or her duty to see. But as the economical condition is stilffar off, we fear the social phase must be hoped for rather than expected, and for years to come places lying just off the regular routes will be unvisited, unless, from previous infor- mation, tourists are induced to stretch their programmes to include them.

There is another consideration which tends to prevent divergence from the beaten tracks. Along these there is sure to be fairly good accommodation ; demand creates supply, and when there is a tolerably regular flow of persons requiring a certain scale of comfort, that scale will, with accidental. exceptions, be observed. Off the line we have no reasonable assurance, and may go to either extreme. We may fall in with a paradise of a country inn, such as Dickens delighted to describe, and about which there hangs a delicate aroma of the time when inns were the model homes of comfort, the pivots upon which the locomotion of the country turned. But we may, on the other hand, find a dreary abode, where the meagreness of the entertainment is only surpassed by the indifference of the hostess to the comfort of her guests. Now, after all, when one is endeavouring to enjoy one's self, it is a con- siderable item to be comfortably housed and fed. A little rough weather or over-exercise during the day has an underlying pleasure of its own, but a bad inn is simply an annoyance, and .curiously enough, but undeniably, detracts from the appreciation of scenes associated with it.

Now the visitor to the Wye who may be induced to include a -day in the Forest of Dean in his programme need have no appre- hension on the score of accommodation. In the very heart of the Forest is the Speech House Hotel, beautifully situated, cheer- ful, and well kept, where the Verderers of the Forest meet every forty days to hear presentments of encroachments, and to use such powers as they possess to abate them, and dine afterwards, according to the fashion of Manor and Forest Courts. Nor is there any difficulty in weaving a day in the Forest into the customary tours in the neighbourhood. There are several points of approach. The stations of Newnham, Blakeney, and Lydney, on the South-Wales Railway, are on the edge of the .district; and that of Mitcheldean Road, on the Gloucester and Hereford line, is little further removed. From Newnham a good walker could in a day pierce through the centre of the Forest, passing Cinderford and Coleford, its two capitals, lunch- ing at the Speech House mid-way, and reaching Monmouth in time for dinner. The distance cannot be more than fifteen miles. From Lydney a new railway—the first passenger line traversing the Forest—has been opened during the last month. This line runs from north to south, at right angles with the route we have just referred to, and passes within a mile of the Speech House, joining at Lydbrook the Ross and Monmouth line, which skirts the Wye. But the particular round we would recommend is a walk or drive from Lydbrook along the high western ridge of the Forest to Lane End, and thence to the Speech House, re- turning by way of Coleford to Monmouth, a distance of some twelve miles in all.

Lydbrook lies in a narrow valley, the northern end of which touches the Wye, just above the little church of Welsh Bicknor, where, it is said, Henry V. was baptised. The first thing that strikes us as we pass along this gorge is the contrast with the larger valley a the Wye which we have just left. There the only

sounds are the rushing of the swift stream and the rustle of leaves. Meadow, park, and wood succeed one another, and ideal country- houses crown the hills or nestle by the river-side. In Lydbrook

Valley we are at once in the midst of coal-wharves and iron- furnaces. A series of small docks or basins occupy the centre of the valley for a considerable distance ; workmen's cottages line

the road and are dotted about the lofty hills which rise on each fide, and there is all the noise and bustle of an active trade.

There are two Lydbrooks, a lower and an upper, and near the latter the road forks. Taking the right-hand branch, the ascent is still con- tinued, and we find ourselves passing through open forest-land. Seine of the Crown enclosures soon meet the eye ; they are made by banks faced with rough stone, and with bushes a-top. In one pci it they differ considerably, and for the better, from their brethren of the New Forest. The nurses for the oak are not uniformly Scotch fir, but consist of a variety of pines, and they appear to be removed much earlier, for in few plantations of any growth is more than a fir here and there to be seen. Thus, the oppressive monotony of black foliage which threatens so much to mar the New Forest is to a great extent avoided. The oak trees also appear, to the eye of a casual observer unskilled in woodcraft, to be much more judiciously thinned as they rise, and to be thriving far better than in IIampshire.

After an ascent of two miles. the road enters at right angles that from Gloucester to Coleford, and we turn in the direction of the latter town. We are now on the top of a lofty ridge, from which we look across the valley of the Wye into Wales. Sweet, open pasture slopes away from the road on our right, and is suc- ceeded by enclosed fields and meadows. A conspicuous object to the south-west is the Forest Church at Bury Hill, not far from Coleford. In the far distance, rising over a sea of lesser hills, are to be seen the wild-looking outline of some of the Black Moun- tains. On the left we look into a forest of oaks, not too closely planted to exclude the sun, or to prevent the growth of very bright, close turf, and delightfully varied by an occasional larch or birch. From one point of the road a view is had across the whole breadth of the Forest to Cinderford, the mining village, which has grown so rapidly within the last few years as far to outstrip all the older towns of the Forest. Occupying on the east the side of a corresponding ridge to the western one on which we are, the town is seen at a distance of three or four miles, an island of buildings amidst the crested tree-tops,—perhaps one of the most characteristic sights in the Forest.

Not far from Lane End, where we turn from the Coleford road, towards the Speech House. are four or five very fine beeches, which the Commissioners of Woods and Forests have, with un- wonted consideration, not only spared, but suffered to remain visible. It is said that these trees can be seen across the inter- vening woods and hills from Sharpness Point, on the Severn, where vessels bound for Gloucester enter the Ship Canal. Many an association with home and safety may have weaved itself around the glimpses of these High Beeches, as the craft enters on the last stage of its voyage. All along our route we pass at intervals little patches of coal-dust, surrounding a short tower of rough- hewn stones, marking the site of a worked-out or abandoned colliery, and it is pleasant to think that from the care thus taken in building up the shafts no unwary passenger can experience the sad fate of Dickens's hero, Stephen Blackpool. Amongst the trees, also, we come upon collieries and iron-mines now in work, the subterranean industry seeming in no way to interfere with the trees and turf, which grow luxuriantly right up to the little clearing occupied by the mine. Through scenes of this kind the straggling village of Lane End is reached, where we turn into the heart of the Forest for the Speech IIouse. Down a very steep hill, between banks upon which the oaks grow high above our heads, past a large lime-stone quarry, across a little stream, by the side of which are naphtha-works, making their presence disagreeably palpable, and alone seeming to disagree with the surrounding vegetation, and up a corresponding ascent, the road runs for a couple of miles ere we reach our goal. Round the Speech House the Forest has never been touched, and: we get a good idea of what a charming district it must have been before its artificial plantation was commenced. It is, perhaps, fortunate for the unique reputation of the New Forest that enclosure commenced so much earlier in the Glou- cestershire demesne. There is a grove of hollies round the Speech House which it would be difficult to match in Hampshire.

They fill in a sombre background to every view of the wood, and individual trees reach to the height of thirty or forty feet.

Amongst the more rugged growth are also the hawthorn, at this

time scarlet with berries; the crab, with its small, light leaves and faintly-tinted fruit ; and the yew, with its rich foliage and ruddy

stem. The larger growth is chiefly oak, but fine beech and an

occasional sweet-chestnut are not wanting, and that most graceful- of all trees, the birch, fitly completes the landscape. It is lament-

able that so little of such beautiful woodland scenery now remains.

We soon reach enclosed plantations—some new, and not beautiful —if we wander through the wood. But artificially planted as it-

is, for the most part, there is a charm about the Forest of Dean

which few would be insensible to, and the loss of which, by an enclosure of the Forest such as that contemplated by the Govern-

ment last Session, would be most grievous. Its steep hills, clad with oak, its extensive views of rich foliage, spreading over one upland after the other, and dotted here and there with a thin line

of blue smoke, marking the site of underground labour, and its close sward, flecked with the sunlight, as it streams through the stalwart young oaks, are things not to be forgotten. We can promise any Wye tourist who will make room in his programme for a day in the Forest ample amends for departing so far from the beaten track.