"T-to the tr-train! Oh, the L-Lord bl-bless you! The g-good L-Lord bl-bless you all the w-way!" And the last we saw and heard of him, he was still feebly shaking his hands after us and sobbing maudlin benedictions. II. CHESHIRE Drayton the poet once took it upon him to assure Cheshire that what was true of Lancashire was true also of her: "Thy natural sister shee--and linkt unto thee so That Lancashire along with Cheshire still doth goe." From that great backbone of England, the Pennine Range, both these counties fall away to the west, but Cheshire quickly opens into the Shropshire plain. At the northeast it has its share in the treasures of the deep coal-field rent across by the Pennines, and here, too, are valuable beds of copper. In this section of the county cluster the silk towns, among them Macclesfield, the chief seat in England of this manufacture, and Congleton, whose character we will trust has grown more spiritual with time. For in 1617 one of the village wags tugged a bear into the pulpit at the hour of service, and it was a full twelvemonth before the church was reconsecrated and worship resumed. Indeed, the Congleton folk had such a liking for bear-baiting or bear-dancing, or whatever sport it was their town bear afforded them, that when a few years later this poor beast died, it is told that "living far from Godly fear They sold the Church Bible to buy a bear." The old Cheshire, everywhere in evidence with its timber-and-plaster houses, distracts the mind from this new industrial Cheshire. We visited Macclesfield, but I forgot its factories, its ribbons and sarcenets, silks and satins and velvets, because of the valiant Leghs. Two of them sleep in the old Church of St. Michael, under a brass that states in a stanza ending as abruptly as human life itself: "Here lyeth the body of Perkin a Legh That for King Richard the death did die, Betray'd for righteousness; And the bones of Sir Peers his sone, That with King Henrie the fift did wonne In Paris." I have read that Sir Perkin was knighted at Crecy and Sir Peers at Agincourt, and that they were kinsmen of Sir Uryan Legh of Adlington, the Spanish Lady's Love. "Will ye hear a Spanish Lady, How she wooed an Englishman? Garments gay and rich as may be, Decked with jewels, she had on." This Sir Uryan was knighted by Essex at the siege of Calais, and it was then, apparently, that the poor Spanish lady, beautiful and of high degree, lost her heart. The Elizabethan ballad, whose wood-cut shows a voluminously skirted dame entreating an offish personage in a severely starched ruff, tells us that she had fallen, by some chance of war, into his custody. "As his prisoner there he kept her; In his hands her life did lie; Cupid's bands did tie them faster By the liking of an eye. * * * * *