We can only predicate of the future from the past. In spite of all our Parliamentary acts respecting these forests, and the clamour that for ages has been made about them, they, with little exception, have existed only as cover for sinecure expenditure, or for display of tyro ignorance and incapacity, and subject for pillage, thieving, and frauds of every description[40]; (_vide_ Parliamentary Reports). We could easily—by a very simple incantation, requiring a rod neither tipped with silver nor with gold, but merely a plain cane or sword—bring forth a sufficient quantity of large growing oaks to meet any emergency. Our charm would be to give the title of Prince to the Duke who should possess, and have at the command of Government at a fair price, a certain {185} number of oaks above a certain size, and a step of elevation to every titled person, and the title of Baronet to every private gentleman, who should possess a given number, diminishing the number requisite to give a step as the title became lower. We should conceive this law would not render nobility of less estimation. Perhaps the clause might be added, that one tree raised on waste ground should count two. As a treatise on the rearing, or rather prevention of the rearing, of young planting, Mr Billington’s small volume possesses some real merit; and simplicity and useful and sagacious remark are so blended together, as to afford to the reader at once amusement and information. We are something at a loss to account for this incongruity. Has the seclusion of a forest life given a cast of the _naturel_ to his mental product; or has Jaques of Arden really been in Dean with his celebrated invocation?