A similar short ride from Crewe, now by the line which continues to Chester, conveys us to Beeston, the walk from which station to the castle, occupying less than half an hour, is again by lanes and fields. Lancaster Castle, excepting its incomparable gateway-tower, and a small portion inside, has been so much altered in order to adapt it for modern uses, that the past is lost in the present. Clitheroe Castle is all gone, excepting the keep. Beeston, happily, though itself only a relic, has suffered nothing at the hands of the modern architect. Even time seems to look on it leniently. As a memorial of the feudal ages, it is in our own part of England supreme and uncontested, and in any case one of the most charming resorts within the distance for all in Manchester who care for the majestic, the antique, and the picturesque. This famous and far-seen ruin is seated upon the brow of a mighty rock, which, rising out of the meadows on the eastern side by a regular and at first easy, but afterwards somewhat steep incline, terminates, on the western side, in an abrupt and absolutely vertical precipice, the brink of which is three hundred and sixty-six feet above the level of the base, or of almost precisely the elevation of the High Tor at Matlock, and of the loftier parts of St. Vincent's. Hence, in the distance, viewed sideways, as for example, from Alderley Edge, the outline is exactly that of a cone-shaped mountain toppled over and lying prostrate. The broad green slope, dry and velvety, furnishes an unsurpassed natural lawn for rest and pic-nic. Mounting it to the summit, the ruins, which now consist chiefly of ivied bastions, tower above our heads with an inexpressible and mournful grandeur that recalls the story of Caractacus in the streets of ancient Rome. The mind runs back to the time when the walls were alive with armed men, and shouts rose from the turrets, now discrowned. Not that the castle was ever actually assaulted, for a glance at the entrance is enough to convince any one that as a military post in the feudal times it was impregnable. Of military incidents connected with Beeston, there is indeed no record whatever. All that history has to tell is of one or two changes in the holding, brought about by treachery or want of vigilance. But from the time of the building, in 1220, by Randulph de Blondeville, sixth Earl of Chester, on his return from Palestine, there can be no doubt that for four centuries the old castle was the scene of much that was imposing.