CHAPTER XV. THE GIPSY AND THE WEST-SAXON. [Illustration: View in Mark Ash.] Many people have a vague notion that the gipsies constitute the most important element of the population of the New Forest, whereas, of course, they are mere cyphers. An amusing enough French author, in a work upon England, has devoted a special chapter to the New Forest, and there paid more attention to the gipsies than any one else, and entirely forgets the West-Saxon, whose impress is indelibly marked, not only in the language, but in the names of every town, village, and field. As, however, every one takes a romantic interest in these nomads, we must not entirely pass over them. Here and there still linger a few in whose veins run Indian blood, against whom Henry VIII. made bad laws, and Skelton worse rhymes. The principal tribes round Lyndhurst are the Stanleys, the Lees, and Burtons; and near Fordingbridge, the Snells. They live chiefly in the various droves and rides of the Forest, driven from place to place by the policeman, for to this complexion have things come. One of their favourite halting-places is amongst the low woods near Wootton, where a dozen or more brown tents are always fluttering in the wind, and as the night comes on the camp-fires redden the dark fir-stems. The kingly title formerly held by the Stanleys is now in the possession of the Lees. They all still, to a certain extent, keep up their old dignity, and must by no means be confounded with the strolling outcasts and itinerant beggars who also dwell in the Forest. Their marriages, too, are still observed with strictness, and any man or woman who marries out of the caste, as recently in the case of one of the Lees, who wedded a blacksmith, is instantly disowned. The proverb, too, of honour among thieves is also still kept, and formal meetings are every now and then convened to expel any member who is guilty of cheating his kinsman. Since the deer have been destroyed in the Forest, life is not to them what it was. They are now content to live upon a stray fowl, or hedgehog, or squirrel, baked whole in a coat of clay, and to gain a livelihood by weaving the heather into mats, and brooms, and beehives. They are, however, mere wanderers, and have nothing to do with the soil. It is with the West-Saxon that we are most concerned. And in the New Forest he will be found just such another man as his forefather in the days of William the Red, putting the same faith in visions and omens which made the King exclaim, on the morning of his death, upon the news of the monk of Gloucester’s dream, “Do you take me for an Englishman?” believing firmly in groaning ash-trees, and oaks which bud on Christmas-eve, and witches who can turn themselves into hares, and that the marl which he digs is still red with the blood of his ancient foes the Danes.[199]