A Mown SANCTUARY.
A considerable controversy, waged even with bitternesF, has arisen over the creation of a "national park" in the Forest of Dean. It is, perhaps, inevitable that the phrase should suggest a parallel with Yellowstone Park or Banff, both of which are adorned, with apologies for the word, by motor parks. Magnificent though they are, the national parks of America give us no parallel. They are immense. A dozen motor parks would hardly slur their wildness. Our biggest national park must be comparatively, small, and if it is to harbour wild animals—from badgers and deer to hawk and woodpecker—it must be free from the noise and bustle and smell of the motor park. It is not a hardship to walk a mile (a golfer walks four in the course of one round) ; and for the nature lover Jefferies' old rule holds good : always get over a stile. Now a motor car cannot yet get over a stile, though a motorist may. You must saunter to enjoy a sanctuary. Incidentally, on this subject, is there any justifica- tion for Thoreau's delightful derivation of the word saunter from saints terre ? There is certainly none for the connexion of " loiter" with la terre or the Holy Land.
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