wood in the great ecclesiastical manor of Fulham-a possession of the Bishop of London from time immemorial-it is now bare grass. It has been seized upon for drilling and rifle-shooting, and though the Metropolitan Board has obtained a species of subsidiary right to protect it in the public interests so far as is consistent with its use for military purposes, the Scrubs must be considered, like Woolwich Common, as valuable chiefly for the barrier it presents to the unbroken spread of buildings. The Hackney Commons are more interesting. In the first place, if the Irishism may be excused, they are not commons at all. They are survivals of the common field, or, to speak more accurately, the common meadow. They are not waste of a manor and do not belong to the lord. On the contrary, they are divided into many strips, each of which had at one time a separate owner. These strips were originally marked out on the ground by little stumps of wood or iron, and many of such boundary marks are now to be seen on the marshes. From Lady Day to Lammas Day the fields are shut up, all cattle being driven off. During this time each owner of a strip has possession of his own grass and may mow and carry it. Indeed it has been alleged that the land may even be tilled and sown. It is said that one year Hackney Downs was sown with a crop of oats, but that it could not be carried before Lammas Day and the commoners, who resented the proceeding, rushed in and burnt the grain. It is not likely that any such tillage is in accordance with ancient custom, unless the close time was formerly longer than at present. The common arable fields of Hackney have probably long since been made private property, and the open lands now remaining are no doubt ancient hay meadows, which have escaped inclosure in consequence of the lengthened period during which they have been wont to remain common. The marshes are still of value as grazing ground, and any one approaching them at the south end by way of Homerton will find across the road a bar by the side of which is a gate-house occupied by the officer whose duty it is to mark the cattle at the proper times of the year for the purpose of the turnout. Cattle not so marked are liable to be impounded, and there are long lists of fees and penalties. A similar practice exists in Epping Forest where each parish appoints its reeve, whose passport is necessary to entitle a beast to the run of the forest. Such customs are probably of very old date, relics of that system of communal land-holding

which is crystallised for us in the term village community.

The Hackney Commons have another title to notice. They are of all the metropolitan commons surrounded by the densest population. The small open space called London Fields is close to the Station of that name on the Great Eastern Railway, and is in the midst of small houses. So continuous was the trample and patter of feet upon the turf, that when the Metropolitan Board took charge of the place it was worn bare like a school playground. The Board ploughed it up and are endeavouring to produce a sward. The Hackney Downs are surrounded by detached and semi-detached villas and are a pleasant open spot lying on the top of the hill above the marshes. They are, however, of small extent, less than fifty acres, and must be looked upon merely as another very valuable playground. The same may be said of Hackney or Well Street Common, but the marshes and their adjuncts, North and South Mill Fields, have a different character. As we follow the narrow winding High Street of Hom erton, with its curious mixture of quiet old private houses wearing an air of decayed gentility, one-storied cottages, and small shops, and passing from a muddy lane, which runs suddenly down hill by a row of old elms, enter, through a turnstile by the cattlemarker's bar, upon the marshes, we have that sense of getting to the end of all things which is associated with a large tract of flat low-lying land. There are rough-looking men of the bargee type hanging about, and wild, half-clad girls and boys looking after the cattle. Before us is a high-pitched bridge spanning the artificial navigable channel of the Lea, a broad, full-flowing stream. On the further side of the bridge the marshes spread out on both sides, a level surface of thick, coarse grass, indicating a heavy, wet soil, though after the long drought of summer there are many cracks in the ground. At some little distance in front is an old low white house picturesquely situated in the midst of a few willows by the side of an old wooden bridge. Here we come to the old branch of the Lea, a winding, sedgy stream near which the cows love to congregate. Bounding the flat expanse are many very ugly things, lines of railroad crowded with coal trucks, and tall chimneys, but there are also rising hills pleasantly dotted with trees and houses with here and there a spire or church tower. The breeze blows freshly across the marshes, and save for a boy or man looking after the cattle the place is deserted of human kind--a solitude in the midst of millions. Leaving the

marshes at the northern end by Pound Lane we come upon South Mill Field, and crossing this we may gain the Lea Bridge Road on the further side of which is North Mill Field. These fields lie on the slope of the hill. Looking up from the bottom of South Mill Field the houses and gardens of Clapton form a warm and agreeable background to the intervening bright green meadows. In the opposite direction from the top of North Mill Field a pretty view of the red-tiled cottages at Lea Bridge and the wooded hills of Epping Forest beyond is to be had. We regain the High Street of Clapton and are reminded by old red-brick houses and

eye roams northwards across the furzy hollows of the Heath, over an unlimited expanse of open fields and meadows-and the steep, narrow streets, and old-fashioned small houses and large gardens of Hampstead village. It is probably owing to the steepness of the hill that Hampstead has maintained so much of its peculiarly retired character. Certainly London, which sets in full tide to the foot of Haverstock Hill, breaks but feebly on its slope, and has till lately made scarcely any impression on the Heath and its surroundings. Now, it is said, improvements are to begin in Hampstead village, and building projects affecting some of the fields adjoining the

expanse

carefully-guarded ponds and grass plots of the days when Hackney was a rich village. From the flat, open, deserted of Hackney Marshes, we turn by way of contrast to the hilly, irregular, much-frequented Heath of Hampstead. There can hardly be a question that, speaking of natural advantages alone, Richmond and Hampstead are the two most charming suburbs of London. Against the view from the Terrace at Richmond, and the stately glories of the park, may fairly be set the open hillside at Hampstead, dominating the great city, the noble breezy promenade from the Spaniards to "Jack Straw's Castle," where the ground falls away on either side, and the

Heath are in the air. Moreover, the great popularity of the Heath in itself makes it difficult to maintain its peculiar charms. Hampstead Heath has always figured in the minds of Londoners side by side with Epping Forest. If the Forest is the place for a great outing, the Heath is available for a half-day's excursion; and it may be reached in a walk without any expense. Its situation on a hill, and its nearness to the crowded northern suburbs, no doubt, laid the basis of its popularity, and the proceedings of the late Sir Thomas Wilson, as lord of the manor, made its position secure. Hampstead is a copyhold manor, originally belonging to the Abbot and Convent of Westminster. Towards

the end of the last century it came into the Wilson family, and from 1821, for nearly fifty years, was the property of Sir Thomas Maryon Wilson as tenant for life. Many influential persons have resided at Hampstead from time to time, and the copyholders, who formed what is known as the homage of the manorial court, were unusually active in preserving the Heath from encroachments and disfigurement. When application was made for leave to inclose small pieces of waste the homage surveyed the land, and, if they reported in favour of the application, generally imposed conditions tending to preserve the character of the neighbourhood. Not unfrequently building was prohibited, and it is owing to this cause that many plots of smooth greensward edged with fine trees are to be seen on the outskirts of the Heath. This was not a condition of things favourable to inclosure on the part of the lord, and very likely Sir Thomas Wilson had originally little idea of taking any such step. But as tenant for life he could not build even on his inclosed lands at Finchley. He applied to Parliament for the necessary powers, and in a thoughtless moment included the Heath in his bill. Hampstead and London were up in arms. The Bill was thrown out. Not only so, but Sir Thomas could not subsequently induce the legislature to give him. the power of building even upon his private lands. The feud became a deadly one, and when in 1865 sweeping theories as to the rights of lords of manors were broached in connection with Lord Spencer's project for emparking Wimbledon Common, Sir Thomas determined to assume a bold front, and began to build a house on the summit of the Heath. The copyholders, headed by the late Mr. Gurney Hoare, the banker, took up the challenge. Legal proceedings were commenced, and the building of the house was temporarily stopped. The questions raised were never, however, fought out. Sir Thomas died, and his brother who succeeded him sold the heath to the Metropolitan Board for the very substantial price of 45,000l. All these occurrences served but to heighten the popularity of the Heath, and the consequence is that on high-days and holidays the place is like a fair, and the Lower Heath, which forms, as it were, an approach to the hill, is worn threadbare. Other dangers also threaten the Heath. Hitherto it has been flanked on the eastern side by a noble tract of hill and meadow and wood belonging to Lord Mansfield. This is purely private property, and it is not in the nature of things that it will, if left in its owner's hands, be

suffered to lie idle for ever. The same thing may be said of a small estate of the Wilson family adjoining the Heath. Unfortunately the views from the Heath depend for much of their attractiveness on the surrounding lands. If bricks and mortar take the place of green sward on the neighbouring slopes and hilltops, the Heath will assume a strangely confined aspect, and much of it will degenerate into little more than a bare playground like London Fields. On the other hand, if the adjoining land which is still free from building could be secured, and notably the round clay eminence known as Parliament Hill, which gives a panoramic view including London on the south, and the heights of Hampstead and Highgate on the north, an open space would be secured for north London which would vie in beauty, though not in extent, with Wimbledon and Epping. Steps have already been taken to test public opinion on the subject, and it is much to be wished that those who desire London to be adequately supplied with open spaces, should select some fine day-a morning, if possible -for a visit to Hampstead Heath and the adjoining fields.

But it is the object of this paper to describe London commons as they are. Attention has been drawn only to those which lie in the inner circle of the Metropolis. Further off are charming spots of vital importance to an all-devouring city like London-beautiful commons like Chiselhurst and Hayes, extensive tracts of furze and heather such as Banstead Downs and Walton Heath-lying on the slopes and even on the summit of the Surrey Downs. But we have endeavoured to show how rich a heritage of open land London possesses, even within the narrowest limits. Twenty years ago scarcely a common near London was safe. The builders and the lords of manors had cast their eyes upon them, and a single false step would have resulted in wholesale inclosure. Fortunately the defence of the public inheritance fell into good hands. The unfaltering courage and sound judgment of such men as Mr. Shaw Lefevre, the first chairman of the Commons Preservation Society, the late Mr. Fawcett, whose intrepidity saved Epping Forest, Lord Mount-Temple, and the late Mr. Locke, and the exceptional skill with which they were advised by the first solicitor of the society, Mr. Philip Lawrence, have saved for London-as a fraction of a much larger possession-broad acres of playground and breathing-space within or immediately upon her own bounds.

ROBERT HUNTER.

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"ALCOMBE MANOR, "Saturday, 12th. F course I did not expect that my host would love me to distraction, but old Thorsey proves to be as vicious as a boa-constrictor I use that similitude advisedly, for he is about the biggest specimen of a cold-blooded animal on record. Fancy a rambling tun of flesh --but I know you couldn't fancy anything of the sort, so take the description in plain prose. Thorsey stands about ten feet high, big in proportion; but the mass is crowned by a little fat head, in which two frowning little eyes dart and travel at the rate of electricity;-whatever that may be I'll back them at odds, with no allowance for age. The maddest of all my uncle's freaks was to make this Dutch parody of mankind his chosen friend. He has no accomplish

ments and no charms-that assertion, I take it, is absolutely true, if there is such a thing as absolute truth. If he can be said to talk, it is only by comparison with the less articulate voices of a bull or a boar. Upon the other hand, it would be sad injustice to compare him with an elderly ape for malice-Mrs. Thorsey is a wooden image, unpainted, galvanised into life from time to time by a sudden conviction that she is put upon, and taken advantage of. One who didn't know what a good soul my uncle was might form a very odd opinion of him, observing his associate. But I spoke hastily in declaring that Sir Hugh's regard for these people was the strongest proof of his

queerness to suggest hopefully that I should marry their daughter, is evidence on which a writ of de lunatico might be issued against Solomon.

"By the by, that young lady is not obtruded on my notice. I have been here now a fortnight, and the only creature I have seen, besides the Thorsey pair, is a bad copy from the antique, rather deaf, rather blind, and a martyr to toothache. This is the only servant Thorsey keeps, barring his wife; you know that my uncle pensioned off all his household, and I should fancy that none of them would be tempted to stay by affection for the new master. The dear old place is quite as fine and almost as big as I used to imagine it, and old Betty's broom makes just as much impression on the dust as Mrs. Partington's did on the Atlantic. The house will soon fall into a state which it is almost sinful to think of. Thorsey has it for life, but it belongs to me, and surely I have a right to prevent him letting it fall to pieces? You might give me a hint of the law in such a case. There is no hurry at present, and it is not worth while to raise the question prematurely. I have no means of knowing whether Thorsey has a private income sufficient to keep up the place, but my uncle knew his circumstances, I suppose. If not,

But it

I would allow what is necessary. seems quite possible that he would like the house to fall into decay through spite. Yours, bored to death, "HUGH ALCOMBE."

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"ALCOMBE,

"Saturday, 26th.

".. Things are not quite so dull as you suggest. My excellent forefathers collected

a prodigious library, which is abandoned to me, and you know, if no one else would credit it, that I am something better than a lively fellow. You know, in fact, that I am not fast, really. In a world better organised, I should be accounted a thoughtful young man, blessed with the spirits becoming his age...

"But the situation becomes embarrassing. It is ridiculous to find one's self a guest in one's own house for a stated period of six months, in order to make acquaintance with a young lady, but I find no words to express the absurdity of the combination when the young lady declines to show herself. Miss Thorsey may be at school, of course-I don't know her age or she may be on a visit; but even your well-disciplined mind will admit that some explanation of her absence might naturally be expected under the circumstances. And to tell truth, I am just a very little curious. After studying her parents with my artist-eye-you know well that your friend has more eyes than most people, an advantage which gives him that varied grasp of things which is so generally acknowledged-I say, that after studying the parents, I am not at all satisfied that the daughter must needs be ugly. . .

66

Saturday evening. "I have invited an explanation, and it has come with a vengeance. After supper— which is solemnised at seven o'clock-I said something light and cheerful to the effect that destiny had not proved kind to my uncle s plans, since nearly a month had gone out of the six he allowed me, and I have not yet seen Miss Thorsey. That remark stirred fires which, as I suspected, had been smouldering. Mrs. Thorsey replied, with a warmth like that of crackling sticks, 'I don't understand Pagan allusions! If you are waiting to see my daughter, I can tell you we don't expect her for five months, one week and one day precisely!' And her husband burst out, after the preliminary rumbling: Times and again Sir Hugh declared that this place should be ours! At the last moment he cheated us, and about that I say, I only wish we'd known it! Ah! But when you come to claiming our daughter, then I say, to begin with, that you're a dissipated young jackanapes, and if that isn't enough I tell you that the sooner you take your impudent face out of this the better!'

"I was a little startled, but that mild dignity which you and others have admired in secret, came to my support. I said: 'If Sir Hugh's will disappointed you, I regret it

to the utmost extent which an unselfish regard for my own interest will allow. I have the honour to offer you my hand on that, Mr. Thorsey!' He did not meet it, but quite the reverse, and I continued blandly. You resent the condition imposed under circumstances which are not those you expected. But I, upon the other hand, have every cause to respect it. My uncle requested me to stop six months here, and I gratefully propose to carry out his desire. Allow me to suggest, however, that since Miss Thorsey's absence is explained in this straightforward manner, its prolongation is quite unnecessary, if that causes any inconvenience. I recognise with enthusiasm that an uncle's wish should give way to a parent's will, and though I have evident reason to think that Miss Thorsey is as amiable as charming, I promise to resist her à outrance.

"The reply of my gentle host was checked by old Betty, who brought one of her whispered confidences to Mrs. Thorsey. 'Tell him we'll go down to the cottage,' that lady exclaimed, in tones suggestive of an addition in five words beginning with 'and' and ending with him.' When Betty had withdrawn, the husband growled to me,' And you mean to stop, whether or no?'

"Subject,' said I, 'to the conditions piously and prudently stipulated in legal Articles of Assurance, I do!' And so, after five minutes of frowning silence and smiling expectancy, I went out for a cigar.

"It is needless to say that I had no intention of remaining after this, but odd things have happened. As I returned to the house, I heard a fresh young voice singing merrily, and with no small science, mind you! Imagine my astonishment! It seemed to come from the west wing and thither I hurried; but all was empty! I went down to the Thorsey quarters, and taking advantage of their absence, examined it from top to bottom, excepting the bed-room. Then I looked into the kitchen, where Betty was reading a tract in spectacles. Not a sign anywhere of the owner of that voice! And so came up here again, to consult youthat is, to put my ideas on paper and see what they come to.

"It may seem absurd to fancy that the celebrated Mabel has been hidden somewhere in the house all this time, but I am sure it is not impossible-a troop of girls might be concealed here if no one watched for them specially. We may put aside the feelings of the young lady; whatever they might be, her parents would not take them into account. The question is this, Could the