It is fine To stand upon some lofty mountain-thought, And feel the spirit stretch into a view: To joy in what might be if will and power For good would work together but one hour. Yet millions never think a noble thought, But with brute hate of brightness bay a mind Which drives the darkness out of them, like hounds. J. P. BAILEY. Stockport, the uninviting, in whatever direction we look to escape from it, is a point of rare value for departure for scenes of interest--this mainly because of its standing on the threshold of the hills which a little further on become members of the English Apennine,--the grand range stretching from Derbyshire to the Cheviots. Soon after passing Edgley, while the original line pursues its course to Wilmslow and Alderley, great branches strike out upon the left, one primarily for Macclesfield, the other for Disley and Buxton. Each in its turn leads to scenes of delightful beauty, and that before the time of railways were scarcely known. Alighting at Bramhall, we secure the added pleasure of a visit to the very celebrated old hall of that name--the most admirable example in our district of the "magpie" style of architecture, and not more charming in its external features than rich in interest within. The oldest portions date from soon after the middle of the fourteenth century, and are thus as nearly as possible contemporaneous as to period of building with the choir of York Minster. These very aged portions are found chiefly in connection with the entrance to the chapel. Massive beams and supports, hard as iron, refusing the least dint of the knife, and presenting the peculiar surface characteristic of the work of their time, attest very plainly the profound significance of "heart of oak." Everything, moreover, in this grand old place is so solidly laid together, so compactly and impregnably knit, that it seems as if it would serve pretty nearly for the base of another Eddystone or Cleopatra's needle. In the most tempestuous of winter nights, Bramhall has never been known to flinch a hair's breadth--so, at least, the late Colonel Davenport used to assure his friends, the writer of these lines included. No portions of the building appear to be of later date than the time of Elizabeth, the domestic architecture of whose reign is nowhere in England better interpreted. The situation of Bramhall is on a par with its artistic qualities. No dull soul was it who more than five hundred years ago selected for his abode the crest of that gentle declivity, trees far and near, a stream gliding below, and views from the upper windows that reach for many miles across the undulating and sweetly variegated greensward. The romantic bit at present is the ravine hard by, saturated in spring with tender wild-flowers, the wood-sorrel in myriads.