The general seemed to demur at the word superior, drew himself up, but said nothing in contradiction. “Industry, and wealth, and education, and fashion, all emulous, act in England beneficially on each other,” continued Beauclerc. The general sat at ease again. “And above all,” pursued Beauclerc,--“above all, education and the diffusion of knowledge----” “Knowledge--yes, but take care of what kind,” said his guardian. “All kinds are good,” said Beauclerc. “No, only such as are safe,” said the general. The march of intellect was not a favourite march with him, unless the step were perfectly kept, and all in good time. But now, on passing a projecting bend in the wood, they came within sight of a place in melancholy contrast to all they had just admired. A park of considerable extent, absolutely bereft of trees, except a few ragged firs on each side of a large dilapidated mansion, on the summit of a bleak hill: it seemed as if a great wood had once been there. “Old Forest!” exclaimed the general; “Old Forest, now no more! Many a happy hour, when I was a boy, have I spent shooting in those woods,” and he pointed to where innumerable stumps of trees, far as the eye could reach, marked where the forest had once stood: some of the white circles on the ground showed the magnificent size of those newly felled. Beauclerc was quite silent. The general led the way on to the great gate of entrance: the porter’s lodge was in ruins. A huge rusty padlock hung upon one of the gates, which had been dragged half open, but, the hinge having sunk, there it stuck--the gate could not be opened further. The other could not be stirred without imminent hazard of bringing down the pier on which it hung, and which was so crazy, the groom said, “he was afraid, if he shook it never so little, all would come down together.” “Let it alone,” said the general, in the tone of one resolved to be patient; “there is room enough for us to get in one by one--Miss Stanley, do not be in a hurry, if you please; follow me quietly.” In they filed. The avenue, overgrown with grass, would have been difficult to find, but for deep old cart-ruts which still marked the way. But soon, fallen trees, and lopped branches, dragged many a rood and then left there, made it difficult to pass. And there lay exposed the white bodies of many a noble tree, some wholly, some half, stripped of their bark, some green in decay, left to the weather--and every here and there little smoking pyramids of burning charcoal.