apartment, some eleven yards by eight--is found heaped with rubbish and fallen beams; the ceiling, once ornamented with pendent points, is all gone, except a small portion in one corner; it seems a wonder that the roof still cares to stay. A slender turret, rising above the rest of the fabric, includes a circular staircase, leading to the gallery of the upper floor. Here the diamonded casements reappear, looking full into the western sky, and over the trees and river winding at the foot of the steep; and here we discover the loveliness of the site. Abundantly wooded, strewn with fertile meads, and opening out in every direction pretty views of distant hills, with yet more distant ones peeping over their shoulders, there is not a more picturesque valley east of Manchester, that is to say, not until we are fairly into Derbyshire, than is spread before the windows of forsaken Arden. There is not a spot upon its slopes where we may not pause and admire, and wish for our friends. As at Beeston, the mind quickly travels back to the lang syne. Out of those windows, through the open casements, how often have the eyes of fair girls gazed, in sweet summer evenings, long and peacefully, upon the woods and winding water, and painted sunset, one generation after another, all gone now, their ancient home crumbling to dust--but the woods and winding water and sunset the same. The poets talk of nature's sympathy with man; there is nothing so marked as her lofty indifference to him. Archæologically, Arden is interesting as a fine specimen of the domestic architecture of the sixteenth century, and is remarkable for its unusually large bay windows. The waterspouts are inscribed 1597. The history of the estate and its proprietors dates, however, as far back as the time of King John, and though no direct evidence is within reach, there is reason to believe that an earlier building once stood near, and that the present ruin is the second hall. John o' Gaunt is said to have been an inmate of the original. The family history may be seen at length in Ormerod's "Cheshire," in the third volume of which work, p. 399, is a drawing of the hall as it appeared before relinquished to decay. Visitors to the Art-Treasures Exhibition of 1857 will recollect Mr. C. H. Mitchell's pretty water-colour view of the same place, and there are few, perhaps, of our local artists who have not sketched it. It would appear from the date of Ormerod's work (1819), where the hall is described as containing furniture and paintings, that it has been deserted only since the death of George III. Until recently one of its curiosities was a stone pulpit, in which it is said Oliver Cromwell once preached. The rustic legend of the place is that, once upon a time, long before powder and shot were invented, there lived hereabouts a doughty baron. On the opposite side of the valley was a similar castle, held by a rival baron, who returned his neighbour's jealousy with interest. These two worthies used to