From among the time-worn fathers of the grove a little rindle winds its way with many a curve and sinuosity until it empties itself in a broad lake, formerly called Radnor Mere, but now more commonly known as Alderley Mere--a relic, so tradition affirms, of the great lake that in pre-historic times is believed to have extended as far as High Legh, a dozen miles or so away, and of which Tatton Mere, Rostherne Mere, and Mere Mere formed a part. But the glory of the park is the beech wood which reaches down almost to the edge of the mere; it was planted, so the local chroniclers tell us, more than a couple of centuries ago by Sir Thomas Stanley, the first baronet, who obtained a supply of beech mast from his father-in-law's grounds at Kyre, in Worcestershire, the tree being then uncommon in Cheshire. Possibly he was influenced by the advice which John Evelyn about that time had been giving in his "Discourse of Forest Trees," and desired to supply his tenantry with stuffing for their beds. The author of "Sylva" says:--"But there is yet another benefit which this tree (the beech) presents us; its very leaves, which make a natural and most agreeable canopy all the summer, being gathered about the fall, and somewhat before they are much frost-bitten, afford the best and easiest mattresses in the world to lay under our quilts instead of straw, because, besides their tenderness and loose lying together, they continue sweet for seven or eight years, long before which time straw becomes musty and hard." It would be interesting to know if the primitive custom to which Evelyn referred continues in any part of rural England at the present day, or if it has been entirely discarded. More stately trees than the Alderley beeches we have seldom seen in any part of the country; they stand thick in the background, giving a forest-like character to the scene, and the pathways that wind beneath them in a wild and wandering sort of way afford as delightful a sylvan walk as the foot of man can tread. The dead leaves lie the whole year round upon the turf, and overhead the branches meet in a verdant canopy, imparting a mysterious gloom that seems like a perpetual twilight. No one who longs for seclusion needs "fly to a lodge in some vast wilderness," for here he may wander for a day without the sound of a fellow mortal to disturb him or hearing any footfall but his own, and can, if so disposed, realise the full meaning of the words-- One impulse from a vernal wood Will teach thee more of man, Of moral evil, and of good Than all the sages can. Well do we remember a summer evening's saunter through the park and the old beech wood in the pleasant companionship of the worthy rector of Alderley, beguiling the time with cheerful chat. 'Twas Summer tide; the eve was sweet As mortal eye has e'er beholden; The grass look'd warm with sunny heat; Perhaps some Fairy's glowing feet Had lightly touch'd and left it golden.