Historic Sites of Lancashire and Cheshire: A Wayfarer's Notes in the Palatine Counties, Historical, Legendary, Genealogical, and Descriptive.Croston, James
History
Historic Sites of Lancashire and Cheshire: A Wayfarer's Notes in the Palatine Counties, Historical, Legendary, Genealogical, and Descriptive.
Croston, James
Cheshire (England); Lancashire (England)
Tradition's dubious light,
That hovers 'twixt the day and night,
Dazzling, alternately, and dim--
It belongs, we suspect, to that native spirit of romance that gilds to
its own satisfaction, and without which the world with all its natural
delights would be but a dull reality. Certain it is, that there has
not been preserved a single memento of Cheshire's greatest Puritan
soldier--the captor of her Cathedral City, and the despoiler of the
stronghold of Beeston.
Any particular description of these tombs, or of the individuals whose
dust they enshrine, we will defer until after our visit to the ancient
and somewhat dilapidated mansion in which their occupants lived and had
their being.
From Cheadle the old Hall is distant a good three miles, but from the
railway station at Handforth it is only a few minutes' walk. It was
a cold December morning when we started upon our quest; the sunshine
and the warmth of summer had passed away, winter was upon us, and the
year was fast hastening to its close. There was a stillness in the
atmosphere and a dull leaden light in the sky that betokened a fall;
the meadows far and near were covered with a thin coating of crisp
white snow that gathered in heaps about the twisted roots of the trees,
and through the haze we could see the umbraged heights of Alderley Edge
looming spectral-like, while the hills, forming the eastern boundary
of the county, were thickly covered with a fleecy mantle of Nature's
weaving; the little pools and runnels by the wayside were congealed,
the ice-gems decked the branches of the trees, making them look like so
many fairy fountains, and the hoar-frost glittered on every plant and
shrub. There were not many signs of human life about; some sheep were
vainly endeavouring to find pasturage, and a few stirks stood gazing
vacantly in the meadow, their breath visible in the frosty air. As we
strode along the sound of our steps reverberated from the hard and
frost-bound road, the crisp brown autumn leaves crackled beneath our
feet, and the keen air drove the blood from the surface of the skin and
sent it back into the heart like freezing water.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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