punishment. A ramble over Wimbledon common,
since the volunteer encampment has been
removed, has just shown me that it has been
shorn of its chief beauties, and that its
decadence has been both rapid and disastrous.

The dangers it has escaped and the transitions
it has experienced may be easily classified. Its
condition before we were made aware of its
abuses and defects; the proposals of the lord of
the manor when mooting his scheme for its
regeneration; the same proposal as modified and
altered in deference to the wishes of the
inhabitants of the district and the press; the
nuisances and eyesores being fostered on it now;
are all distinct stages in its history. What has
happened at Wimbledon may happen to every
common near a large town; and as, in spite of
fine promises and high-sounding professions, the
beautiful walks and rides we were so proud of
are being gradually destroyed, and our most
picturesque views rendered hideous, it will be
perhaps useful to trace how these calamities
have been brought about, and the nature of the
warnings by which they were heralded.

After we had rallied from our first burst
of astonishment at learning the horrible state
of things said to be existing at our doors;
after vigorously rubbing our eyes in a futile
endeavour to discern the hordes of tramps
and gipsies described as lawlessly squatting
upon and injuring the space to be enclosed;
after looking in vain for the other nuisances
and annoyances so forcibly dwelt upon, we
proceeded to examine the details of the scheme
which was to preserve us from evils we had
never felt, and to formally confer upon the
public a few of the rights it had exercised
without question from time immemorial. These
details were soon declared to have an ugly
look. The phrase "appropriation" occurred
with unpleasant frequency. The public was
to be "protected," and coddled, and watched,
and guarded. The common which had been
free as the sea-shore was to be enclosed
by such fences as the lord of the manor in
his capacity of "protector" of the proposed
park thought fit. This protector was to be
invested, moreover, with supreme power, and
might create as many rides and drives, entrances
and lodges, and appoint as many gate and park
keepers as he thought proper. He was to put
up seats, level obstructions, fill up hollows,
plant trees and shrubs, and form lakes, ponds,
and other ornamental works, when and where it
pleased him. The park was to be open to the
public at sunrise and closed at sunset on every
day in the year, but admission money might be
exacted whenever the sanction of the Home
Secretary could be obtained. Political meetings,
open-air preaching, and gatherings of
working men's clubs or benefit societies, were
all strictly prohibited; while the dismissal as
well as appointment, together with the duties
and services of park-keepers and servants, rested
solely with the protector. Further, this exalted
personage was to declare which of the rides and
drives through the park were to be used for
cabs and public conveyances, which for exercise
on horseback, where music might be played,
where refreshments might be sold; and when any
or all of the bye-laws and regulations should be
altered or repealed. All persons found in the
park after sunset were to be removed; all
damage inflicted must be accounted for to the
protector, who had the same legal powers given
him as are enjoyed by railway companies under
the Railway Clauses Consolidation act of 1845;
the park-keepers were to be special constables,
and might lawfully take into custody and deal
with any person committing any offence in
breach of any bye-law of the protector of the
park; and the protector might let or sell for his
own benefit all produce of the soil, and take
rent from persons selling refreshments, and
from those to whom he gave permission to erect
buildings for entertainments or amusements.
Some pieces of land within the common, on
which stand a mill and outbuildings, familiar to
every volunteer who has attended the annual
meeting of the National Rifle Association, were
to be augmented by two acres from the
common, and the whole given up for the private
house and gardens of the protector. In the
words of the act—"For the erection at his own
cost of a messuage or dwelling-house, and the
formation of grounds for his own benefit and as
his own absolute property;" and some of the
most picturesque and beautiful portions of the
common were to be sold outright, the sums
paid for them to be invested in the funds in the
name of the protector. The cost of enclosure,
and of converting our common into a smart park,
was to be defrayed out of these at the
protector's discretion, and the common rights of
lord and copyholders were to be paid for out
of the same source. Such were the leading
features of the scheme. The highly coloured
nuisances, and the imaginary tramps and gipsies,
were explained when we had the projected
improvements shadowed forth.

The blacker the condition of the common now,
and the more flagrant its evils, the more vital
the necessity for reform. Picture an unwholesome
swamp, infested by thieves and ruffians,
and what so necessary as alteration and protection?
Prove that the public were unable to
partake of their legitimate enjoyment, and what so
kind and benevolent as providing them with
leading-strings in the shape of gravel-walks and
bye-laws, of park-keepers, gates, and regular
hours? But we at Wimbledon denied the
alleged ills, and indignantly rejected the
proposed remedies. Our daily observation, and our
frequent strolls and rambles, made us eminently
qualified to say whether tramps, gipsies, or
nuisances were numerous or the reverse, and
this part of the question met with a derisive and
universal negative. Superficial observers would
never have given us credit for the public spirit we
displayed. For, however energetic and zealous
the members of our little community may be when
prosecuting their professions and businesses in
town, there is not much to weld them together
and to make them act in concert, in the life here.