Alderley, or Old Alderley as we prefer to call it in contradistinction to the aggregation of modern Swiss chalets, Italian villas, and imitation castles which Manchester's merchant princes have built for themselves on the wooded hill yclept Alderley Edge, is one of the most charmingly picturesque spots in the county--we had almost said in the kingdom; the sort of place where, if lowered with overwork and worry, you would wish to retire to for perfect peace and quietude--and of a truth the wearied toiler might wander hither and thither for many a day before he could find a retreat more to his liking. The country is rich and varied, and there is an air of wild and untrimmed prodigality in the woods and plantations that is delighting to the eye. It is not a village--it can hardly be called a hamlet, the houses are so few. On a little triangular spot where four roads meet is what is emphatically called "the Cross," and a little way above, standing by the wayside, may be seen an antiquated hostelry that might be called the house of many gables. Time was when the tired wayfarer might find within its cosy parlour a hearty welcome, and be able to refresh himself with nut-brown ale; but good things are oftentimes abused, and so, now-a-days, to enforce sobriety, though the traveller may receive the welcome he must content himself with tea and coffee or such harmless beverages as lemonade and ginger ale. Near the inn is the old corn mill, a building that, with its surroundings, has formed the subject for many a picture, as the walls of our local exhibitions testify; in the rear, half hidden among the trees, is the old-fashioned rectory, standing in the midst of its equally old-fashioned garden, in which the old mulberry trees still flourish. The garden reaches up to the churchyard, reminding us of Wordsworth's exquisite description-- Where holy ground begins, unhallowed ends, Is marked by no distinguishable line. The turf unites, the pathways intertwine, And wheresoe'er the stealing footstep tends, Garden, and that domain where kindred, friends, And neighbours rest together, here confound Their several features, mingled like the sound Of many waters, or as evening blends With shady night.